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Looking back on my Hinge adventures, there’s one name that still makes me chuckle:
Jonny.
If nothing else, he taught me how close I came to settling for something that wasn’t right for me.
When I first met Jonny, I knew immediately that the sparks weren’t there.
It wasn’t just his appearance; it was a lack of connection, the kind you can’t fake.
During our first date, as we sipped coffee and he blabbered on about his job, I remember thinking, I’m never going to see this guy again.
But then I called my mum afterwards, and like any good mum, she said, “Give him a chance. Sometimes attraction grows.”
Against my better judgment, I agreed.
We went on five dates, and although I warmed up to him slightly over time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.
I didn’t get the butterflies or the giddy anticipation I craved.
On our fourth date, he reached for my hand, and I reluctantly let him hold it. It felt more like an obligation than a romantic gesture.
Jonny wasn’t a bad guy, but he had quirks that grated on me.
For one, he was extremely stingy.
