His name is Jared. he’s 19, his cheeks are sunburned in one picture and he’s holding a guitar in another. Of course, I swiped right.
He texted first. “I have way too much free time currently,” he said, a few weeks before the quarantine. Oh, how wrong he was.
After about two days of exchanging texts with zero red flags, we met up.
Date 1
It was a library date at West. Wholesome, I know.
When I first saw him, I immediately recognized him, which was a sigh of relief.
He didn’t catfish me; one point for Jared.
He was taller than I expected, and he was dressed like he knew how to dress but wasn’t obvious about it.
We picked a corner of the library where we wouldn’t be met with too many curious eyes. Then we talked.
We talked for two hours, but if you asked me right then, I would’ve said it was 15 minutes.
I think we talked about religion, then parents, then writing.
He brought me a few books to read because apparently Lib West is mostly a “research library.” Ridiculous.
I picked The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, although the others looked interesting too. I didn’t want him to think I was greedy, so I only took one.
I felt oddly comfortable with him, not like you’d usually feel with a stranger.
I was able to tell him stories that I forgot existed and memories I thought I lost in my maze of a brain.
I learned he was a freshman, which was surprising because I’ve met 30-year-olds with less maturity than him.
He told me about his family and his past life in Missouri. Eventually, we had to part ways, but I think we both knew we’d see each other again.
Two days passed.
Date 2
For this date, he came over.
I had predetermined he couldn’t be a serial killer (his smile was too pure).
He drove over, parked and got out of his car.
He knocked on my door.
I don’t remember the last time a boy knocked on my door instead of texting “here”; two points for Jared.
He looked cuter than the last date, too; I think it was his shirt.
With the shaggy ear-length hair and olive-tanned skin, he looked like a friendly part-time surfer, but I quickly found out he knew more than how to find the perfect wave.
Jared was smart. He’s majoring in computer science, but he also writes and does photography. Maybe too perfect to NOT be a serial killer.
We chatted on the couch for a bit, talking about the places we’ve been and the places we want to go.
He met my roommates. He introduced himself with a handshake and a smile. He made an effort to be liked.
My roommate’s girlfriend was throwing a birthday party at the house. We joined in and stole some pasta and some cake.
He helped load the dishwasher before leaving the kitchen; three points for Jared.
I live with my sister, so we all watched the Netflix show I Am So Not Okay With This. I was okay with it — badum tss.
It was funny and Jared was good viewing company (an important attribute in a potential mate).
He didn’t talk over the actors but added in commentary where it was needed.
He left a little bit after midnight, but his pleasant cologne happily stayed with me as I fell asleep.
Date 3
After finding out he’s into photography (and stalking his ridiculously aesthetic VSCO), I decided it was time to put this beautiful boy’s skills into action.
That Friday, he picked me up, got lunch at Publix (he got a chicken tender sub; four points for Jared) and then we headed to a forest trail.
At this point, I was 99% sure he wasn’t a serial killer, but I still shared my location with my sister, just in case.
Jared brought a 1970s film camera, so I knew these pictures were going to be good.
He did the super cute taking-pictures-of-you-when-you’re-not-looking thing, but he was also a really good director.
When I pose for pictures with my friends, NO ONE tells me my double chin is looking extra “thicc” and that you can clearly see my armpit sweat.
Jared didn’t call me out like that, don’t worry, but he gave the perfect amount of “just a little to the left, chin down, eyes up” direction that I desperately needed.
I also took some pictures of him laying on a picnic blanket and eating watermelon.
Waiting two weeks for these pictures to develop is worse than waiting for Amazon packages.
After we had enough of Florida’s March heat, we headed over to his place so he could serenade me with his guitar.
I thought this was code for hook-up, but it wasn’t — he actually played me acoustic guitar.
I put in a few requests and then secretly took a TikTok that I really thought would go viral (it didn’t).
I had to meet my roommates for dinner, so he dropped me off about an hour later.
Our goodbye was bittersweet.
I had met this great guy — through Tinder, no less — and yet I knew I probably wouldn’t see him again until the fall semester.
Maybe our timing was off, or maybe we were meant to have three perfect dates and nothing more.
It’s probably not the last chapter of our storybook romance because, well, I still have to give him his book back.
Jared, thanks for being my perfect (Tinder) match.
Your final score: Priceless.
P.S. If you, too, are curious about how the pictures came out, I’ll be posting them on my Instagram @viktoria_potter :)