The Anesthesiologist Tinder

Date Stats

My Outfit: Black tank top, black short skirt, blue and white striped cardigan, neon flats

His Outfit: Jeans and a t-shirt

Day: Sunday

Time: 8-11pm

Overall Rating: 3/10

A couple of days after I matched with Anesthesiologist Tinder, I received my first message from him:

Come have a drink with me?

It was Sunday and I was walking around Central Park with my friend trying to ignore my hangover from the night before. I already had grand plans for the evening involving Netflix and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and so began a tough debate: Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream vs. Tinder Date (we’ve all been there).

My friend and I analyzed his photos and decided that he was undeniably good looking so I decided to go, just in case he turned out to be ‘The One’.

We arranged to meet at The Ginger Man pub in Murray Hill, which he choose as a ‘mid-way point’ between his place in Murray Hill and my place in Chelsea.

I arrived at the bar at 8pm and was happy to note that Anesthesiologist Tinder was even better looking in person, and exceptionally tall at 6’5”. It was sort of like being with an attractive giant.

We sat down a little awkwardly (ah, Tinder). I had decided to order something lavish like champagne to compensate for being in Murray Hill, however The Ginger Man turned out to not be the sort of place that serves revenge-champagne… if you’re not drinking beer, your options are ‘white’ or ‘red’ wine.

We had not conversed beyond planning drinks so we literally knew nothing about each other. It was a little thrilling… murderer or good guy? Who knows! All part of the fun!

When he told me that he was an anesthesiologist I was notably alarmed. Having little understanding of what that actually meant, I imagined the deranged dentist in Little Shop of Horrors… I suppose it could be erotic? However, the more that we talked, the more he turned into the McSteamy of my dreams. He was a tall, funny, gorgeous doctor. This was all too good to be true?

After 3 drinks, we walked outside the bar and he kissed me goodbye and then said, ‘So, what are you up to now?’

The three glasses of wine might perhaps have made me slightly more indignant than I would have been otherwise and I yelled at him for a while about me ‘not being a Tinder hook up’ and if he wanted that he should ‘get right back on Tinder’, then I stormed away huffily. In retrospect this may have been a tiny bit more dramatic than the situation called for.

Luckily, before I had time to entirely regret this melodramatic exit, I received a text from him saying:

I’m sorry for my parting comment. I’d really like to see u again.

If there’s one thing I hate more than a Tinder trying to hook up after the first date, it’s a Tinder not correctly spelling the word ‘you’.

Obviously, most rational beings might let this go in acknowledgement of being let off of a temper tantrum scot-free, but I am not a rational being after three glasses of wine (or, arguably, ever).

I said:

I’ll see *you on Weds eve if you never use an abbreviation in a text again.

He said:

I believe ‘Weds’ and ‘eve’ are both abbreviations

I said:

Die.

Anyway, despite all of this, we made a date for Wednesday evening. I had to cancel it at the last minute and so we rescheduled for that Sunday – and this is where it all went wrong…

We were texting back and forth on Saturday evening and so naturally, at 1am, I thought it would be a good idea to invite him to come join me at my friend’s birthday drinks at Automatic Slims.

Once he arrived the first thing I said was, ‘We still have a date tomorrow, even though I’m seeing you tonight’.

He looked taken aback and said, ‘Um… yeah I hope so’.

As we were drinking a girl came up to Anesthesiologist Tinder and starting hitting on him, until he introduced me. She then came back up to us a few minutes later and started repeatedly saying ‘You two are such a great couple’. As this was only our second meeting ever, this was awkward.

She walked away and was swiftly replaced by my blacked-out friend who came up and started talking gibberish and then kept saying ‘Is this Anesthesiologist Tinder? So nice to finally meet you! You guys are a really great couple. A really great couple.’

I was mortified. It definitely seemed as though I’d been mooning about him all night and told my friends all about our upcoming wedding plans, when all I had said was, ‘A Tinder is coming to meet me’.

We left the bar and he walked me back to my apartment. I invited him upstairs and we had a steamy make-out session, which he kept trying to take further. After about an hour of this I said, ‘Well… it’s pretty late’ and he said, ‘Yup, OK I should probably go home’. I then said again, ‘So we still have a date for tomorrow?’ (CURSE YOU, 2AM TEQUILA SHOTS) and he said, ‘Yeah… sure’.

As I walked him to the door, I heard shouting. I was all excited and we were listening to the argument through the door until I realized with horror that it was my brother. I then gave him the run-down on my brother’s relationship issues which literally nobody needs to hear about at 4am, or ever, especially not a date-that-is-losing-interest-with-each-nightmarish-second.

Needless to say, we did not have a date the next day, or ever again.

Oh, but I did send him a text inviting him over to my apartment and then when he didn’t respond, took the advice of a frat boy (never take advice from frat boys) and sent a follow up text saying:

Just so we’re clear, I’m inviting you to hook up.

I have not heard from him since, so I’m just assuming that he’s dead and this is infinitely more comforting than any other alternative.

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