I pretend not to see him when he arrives, (late, of course) and immerse myself in conversation about the travails of first-class domestic air travel. A cackling man gapes, pumping his fists and jumps up and down like he’s never seen a woman’s body. Some guy in short-shorts comes up to us and asks if we have coke.
I had a hunch I would run into him at our mutual friend’s dinner at Kappo Masa. We end up outside his loft on Reade Street and he pushes me up against his car.
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I want to see Jerry and it would be fun to see John Legend perform his love song “All of Me” but I politely decline.
I thank him for thinking of me, but tell him I don’t want to be intimate without a relationship.
There’s so much I can’t outright control, but I was lucky enough to have a choice.
Both choices made me sad, but the thought of standing by Jerry’s side as his Sometime Girl made me sadder.
In response, he started talking, but somehow didn’t really say anything, and I got the feeling he was probably seeing someone else. Everything was still so new between us, so I let the subject drop. I’m afraid to bring this up with him because the conversation didn’t go well the last time; he’s obviously not ready to be exclusive with me. My friend, you are an unwitting victim of the new culture that I call “the Tinder Revolution.” Although it’s always been possible to see more than one person at a time, technology – and Tinder, where one swipes right or left to meet or reject another – is just one app of many that has made it much easier for us to encounter, get-to-know, and “communicate” with multiple people simultaneously.