√ ̅Tinder

Text by Carina Calin
image by Theo Gosselin

 

Couple of nights ago I was sitting in a bar, talking to a fellow programmer I had just met couple of beers ago. The idea of remembering is amazing to me up to this very moment also. “Who would have thought?, I always ask myself when I have nothing else left to ask myself. But wait.

Christian was telling me about how had been on a date with two random the girls in the same night – all must praise now the wonders of inserting l’amour in technology – both of them having their names added up would have resulted in the complete name of the love of his life. I thought at that very moment and sparked at the remember of these little coincidences that somehow “settle” in the Universe. It happened to me before. And it was now happening again while I was being on a Tinder date – researching my next paper, something that didn’t really turn as I expected it to.

The chances of going out randomly on a Tinder date and having a good time are equally the same of having an orgasm on a first date, bumping into the Gods, You don’t really expect it. Yawn, yawn, yawn. But it can happen.

To my surprise, the night I had been talking to Christian about the probability and the numbers, damn those fucking numbers, meant to calculate the slight chance of good time, in a world where you swipe through men like you swipe through a food menu, I was literally out on a date with what I had thought to be my “research material” for the past two weeks.

The chances of going out, not so randomly, but after two weeks of non-stop chatting, and giggling, and bahahahahaha floods confirming that significant virtual other has a good sense of humor, on a Tinder date and having a good time were nearly ticked after five hours of beers. So I wasn’t yawning, but I was intensely thinking about the orgasm. “Who would have thought?”, I positively tell myself, trying hardly to think of all the wrong things that can start bashing me off reality just like I bashed with my curious little hands through literally hours of men that I hoped won’t be the Birth of Litter.

The chances of going out randomly on a Tinder date and having a good time, and good chemistry, and eventually unreal good sex –  yes, with more than just an orgasm –, are out there running and I can’t believe I am writing to the whole world about it. Chances also are that you could actually end up on a real proper date, on a proper night out getting smashed together, on a really proper hangover the next day, with a proper glow on your face. You would most likely expect not being called ever again, judging by the Tinder terms & conditions, but chances are you might. The next day, and the second, and the third, and the forth, and making it to a movie night on your couch wondering “ who would have thought?”.

And then who would have thought leaves space for less rational answers, but for more real heartbeats per minute in the background of Le Temps de l’Amour.

With or without a hashtag for our generation.

 

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