Before I moved to Italy, my dad gave me his smartphone as a parting gift. Now, before that, I was using a late 90’s phone, which only allowed me to *69 and non-t9 texts. No one realizes my struggle.
My dad downloaded two apps for me: the emergency numbers for Italy and a map. Very practical. Too practical. So, I joined Tinder. I also joined Badoo, but then learned of its fuck-n-chuck social stance, so I swayed away and stuck to the app with a more solid reputation.
So, I started swiping. I was swiping left, swiping right, and sometimes, I would even throw in an accidental super like, which would give me sudden anxiety as I knew they would start a conversation with me. I spent my nights laying in bed, with my face brighten by Tinder, glaring at me, making me decide, making me swipe, contemplating super likes, contemplating which Tinder match would make a better life partner.
Then I arrived in Italy. I was ready. Did I have a place to live? Nope. I had Tinder, I didn’t need shelter.
On the first day in Italy, I was chatting to this guy named Peppe, or some shit. The conversation was dull as you would assume from someone named Peppe. But, we exchanged our facebooks, I knew it wasn’t going anywhere, but I wanted to creep.
Now, skip forward two months. I receive a facebook message from this girl, Giulia.
Giulia is a girl who gets straight to the point.
”Hello, I wanted to ask you how do you know Peppe”
”I kinda know him. I actually haven’t met him before.”
”How do you know him?”
”Tinder”
” I don’t understand what mean tinder”
Oh, poor girl. This is where I knew, hearts were going to be broken, but as a fellow sister, I had to tell her.
”Ah, it’s an app/online dating app”
”Why?”
Now, I am usually very good at answering questions, but I didn’t know how to answer this. To be honest, when I read this, I got a little pissed. Why. BECAUSE I’M LONELY AND ADDICTED TO SWIPING, YOU BITCH.
” What do you mean why?”
”For what reason did you meet? I’m a friend.”
Okay, I have a very short temper, I realize that. And the only thing that can truly make me burst is when people think I’m beyond stupid. I mean, I usually give people the benefit of the doubt that they think I’m an idiot, which is fair, but pulling the friend card is useless at this point.
”I never met him”
”But what do you say?”
”Are you his girlfriend?”
This would have been a good time to confess and be open but Giulia is a sneaky one. For the simple fact that Peppe, who names their child that anyways, is insignificant to me.
”I am a normal person”
Clearly.
”That’s cool, I have no problem telling you but you’re not being honest with me.”
”You talk about many things?”
It’s time to get to the point.
”If he is your boyfriend, he is on a dating website, talking to girls. To meet them and see them”
”What are you asking?”
I slam my phone down on the table. I pick it up to check for scratches and over emotionally type back with a heavy breath.
”I just told you, what do you want from me. Are you his girlfriend or not?”
No reply. I then decide to message Peppe, lovely Peppe and inform him that some friend of his is messaging me. Read. No reply. While waiting, I crept his facebook and realized that they are both in the same band.
Gasp. Band breakup?
I continue to wait as I eat a bag of salted peanuts mixed with anxiety. Minutes pass while I contemplate if breaking up the band was a good idea.
”I am his girlfriend. I am not crazy”
The latter was an interesting point to make.
”No, you are not crazy”
There was a pause. She then asks me what she should do. For the rest of the night, me and Giulia contemplate about Peppe. Should she trust him? What about the band? What did he really do? Only Peppe knows. We finish our conversation with the realization that we’re both crazy.
For a moment, I thought I made a friend.
thelonelyserb 