Bachelorhood is a pretty good thing. Especially when you’re your own master. You can pour your own drink, cook your own meal, switch yourself on when you need to, or simply turn out the lights before bed. But at some point, all that freedom stops feeling like freedom and turns into loneliness. A solitude with elements of everyday theatre. And you’re no longer just looking for someone to talk to, but dreaming of someone you can be silent with. Someone to touch.
In moments like these, some people go to a bar, others to the gym, and I, like many, turned to a dating app. I’ve always considered myself a sociable person, and I was good at meeting people in real life: on the subway, in line for coffee, in an elevator, at the office, even at a clinic. But progress has thrown a new method at us: swipe, and there it is, love. Or its clever illusion.
At first, it’s exhilarating. You think you’re the ultimate catch, that there’ll be a line of people waiting for you. A photo, a profile, a couple of jokes—and suddenly you have ten chats, twenty likes, thirty matches. But then you realize: you’re not the only one. Everyone’s like this here. Everyone’s a diamond, everyone’s a star. And everyone is only looking for the perfect. They’re looking for something that might exist in a commercial, but certainly not in your own hallway.
And you sit there, swiping, reading, replying. Then you catch yourself thinking: maybe it’s better to just go outside? To a place where people don’t filter themselves by interests. Where you can simply say, “Hello,” and it will be the start of something real.
Still, I keep using the app. Sooner or later, a first date is arranged. It was almost in the very center of Moscow, at a wonderful cafe called “Shcherbet.” It’s located right next to a stunning teahouse. If you’re ever in Moscow, you must go. This isn’t an ad. The guys there have their own delicious pastries and a great selection of tea. A pot of good tea with pastries for two will cost about $10. And it’s worth every penny.
I’m sitting in the cafe, waiting. She was about ten minutes late. And I didn’t recognize her. In her photo, she was probably ten years younger. I was shocked, and that’s an understatement.
In our chats, she talked about theatre, exhibitions, and painting. But I, as if on purpose, pay close attention to details. After just fifteen minutes of conversation, I understood that for her, theatre was most likely a box to check on the second or third date. The same went for exhibitions and painting. Nothing of that intellectual lady from the chats was left at our meeting. I had the feeling I was talking to a completely different person.
Relationships that start with a soft, but still a lie, are doomed
At the end of the evening, after we had thanked each other for our time, she asked directly: “I guess we’ll never see each other again?” I answered simply: “Life is a difficult thing. A great relationship starts with a spark, and we didn’t have one.”