Michael, who was soon referred to as “Tinder bae,” became so much more than that the first few weeks of the school year.
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I realized that my nerves and self-doubt had convinced me that there was no spark, even though there was.
I was so set on the fact that this year I had been determined to be “man-free” that I was sabotaging this relationship before I could see if it would go anywhere.
We had open and honest conversations, the type you have with people you have known your entire life, not someone you just matched with on Tinder.
When we did finally meet in person in Prague the middle of September, my nerves overwhelmed me.
After a few exchanges, in which he immediately admitted he hated messaging and would rather get together in person to grab a coffee, disappointment set in that I was no longer in his vicinity.
Yet we decided to add each other on Facebook and hoped our schedules would align one weekend.
When we parted ways that weekend, I believed we would remain good friends and a support to each other, but perhaps nothing more.
Yet something inside me urged me to go out with him again—living in a small town, there is ample time to reflect.
Although I kept telling myself I was on these dating apps for a few laughs, deep down I was hoping that maybe I would have a connection with someone.