When scrolling through Tinder, have you ever spotted an account with two names instead of one? If you're judgemental like me, your immediate reaction might've been, "Wow, look at these swingers trying to get down on a Saturday night."
But what if you explored it further? This time, I did.
The year was 2019, and boy, was I ever lonesome. I was lying on my bed, scrolling through my Tinder app, desperately trying to score a last-minute date, when I spotted them — a stylish-looking man and woman whose bio read, "Come dance with us, but don't be weird."
I knew I couldn't promise the latter, but I took the bait anyway and messaged them. I can't remember exactly what I said, but it was normal enough to score me an invite to the Lula Lounge, a salsa bar in Toronto's west end.
Fear overtook me for a second as I imagined all the disastrous outcomes doing something so impulsive might bring me, but it didn't last, and soon I was out the door, psyching myself up to dance with strangers.
The meetup
As my Uber pulled up to the neon signs that light up the Lula Lounge, I felt a weird calm wash over me — though I was still 60 percent sure I was about to be caught up in a pyramid scheme.
I stepped out of the vehicle and, by some luck of the cosmic draw, immediately bumped into my Tinder dates. They had stepped outside to smoke, and as I approached them, I could tell they had no idea who I was. Finally, after a few seconds of awkwardness, it clicked, and they embraced me, shocked that I'd actually shown up.
From there, they escorted me inside to their table, where we talked and laughed like old friends meeting up after years apart. I learned they were both visiting from L.A. and had joined Tinder in hopes of finding fun people to hang out with.
Apparently, I was the only one who responded to their profile in a way that suggested that I didn't plan to sleep with them both — a revelation that immediately lifted the feeling of anxiety in the air.
The dance floor
I don't know how to salsa, which is intimidating on the floor of a lounge, where actual dancers go to groove to the rhythm of a bombastic live band.
However, I was already so invested in the experience at this point that I figured I might as well cut up a rug. So, I ventured into the sultry crowd with my new friends and did my best to copy what everybody else was doing with minimal flailing.
The movement and energy of the room quickly split apart our little trio, leaving the Tinder woman and I, alone dancing with each other. Neither of us knew how to dance salsa, and we both seemed hesitant to try with someone we'd only met an hour ago, but try we did.
We locked eyes, and for a moment, I felt like I'd slipped into a past life. There I was, dancing with a beautiful woman who suddenly appeared familiar to me, to music that would've been the mainstay 50 years ago. It was surreal.
The departure
I don't know how long the three of us hung out. It could have been two hours. It could've been five. All I know is that my heart broke a little when I had to say goodbye to my new friends.
They were heading back to L.A. the next day, and I knew that despite our casual assurances to keep in touch — we'd never see each other again.
We embraced outside the Lula Lounge and started walking our separate ways, I looked back at one point to see if they were still visible, but they were gone.
I couldn't even tell you what they looked like anymore.
But, if, by some odd chance, they are both reading this article, I'd just like to thank them for treating me to a night out during a time when I really needed it.
I hope this piece encourages you to utilize Tinder as more than just a portal for casual sex. But, hey, to each their own. I'm just thankful to have had such an unforgettable, unexpected experience with the app.
