…then buy yourself a couple ‘o kittens, name them Thelma and Louise and line up that cable television, child, ’cause you ain’t going no place.
So I’ve written my wedding vows. I don’t have a wedding or anyone to vow to but I figure, may as well get a head start. The wedding month will be so jam-packed, I don’t want to feel rushed.
The serious truth is, and call me crazy, but I have this weird feeling that I will meet Him here in NYC. Not Godot, no. Him, I mean. My guy. And it’s not just me that feels it – my psychic reader feels it, my palmist feels it, my friends feel it, and I’m sure wherever He is, He feels it too (please God let Him feel it!).
To let the Universe know that I’m open and willing to accept a fruitful and loving relationship, I’ve not only got my vibrations in tact, but I’ve also enlisted the help of a mobile dating application called ‘Bumble’. Yes, as in ‘bee’. Their slogan goes something along the lines of ‘Are you ready to start pollinating?’ Bringing it back to nature. I like that.
Bumble is not unlike old mate Tinder and works as so:
Step 1: Woman is presented with profile of Man.
Step 2: Woman scrolls through profile of Man, focussing heavily on photos of Man as, let’s be honest, that’s where she will make her decision.
Step 3: If Woman does not find said photos of Man appealing, then Woman swipes profile to the left, forever banishing him into the dating-ether.
Step 3a: If Woman does find said profile of Man appealing, then Woman swipes profile to the right.
Step 4: If Man, on other end of the cyber-exchange, has in fact also found profile of Woman appealing and swiped her to the right, then Woman is notified and the two are ‘bumped’/matched.
Step 5: (And here’s the selling point of this app and the notable difference with T) Woman has 24 hours to make contact with Man. And by contact, I don’t mean physical contact because that would be archaic. God forbid. No, she has 24 hours to initiate a conversation. But wait, Nisrine, how much time does Man have to initiate conversation with Woman? / Well, friend, Man does NOT have the privilege of initiating conversation – this is entirely the privilege of Woman. / So are you saying that I won’t have creepy guys messaging me randomly anymore? I’ll be free from the misogynistic grips of Man? / Yep! / Oh Bumble, thanks for looking out for us Women who apparently can’t look after ourselves and for continuing to perpetuate the gender stereotypes of the brute Man and fragile Woman….
So anyway, that’s the story so far. It’s been three days. I was meant to go out on a date with a Sephardic Jew but he’s yet to ask me out on one. I’ve bumped quite a bit with other men (who, might I add, are all fancy businessmen and industry folk – oooooo) but they don’t seem to reply. Are New York men busy? Do they have cabs to catch and hot dogs to eat? What’s the deal, dudes?
Note: Leah Michelle is also a Sephardic Jew.
In the meantime, I will continue to live my life and visit Barnes & Nobles where I reckon I’ll really meet Him. I’ll be looking at the shelf of plays, he’ll be looking at it too but from the other side. Our eyes will meet. Desiree will start singing. Then our families will hate each other and then Mercuti-