37 minutes: A Satire on Online Dating

Although my MFA is in creative non-fiction, I enjoy writing short stories in my spare time. Please enjoy this fictional tale.

37 minutes. That’s how long they spoke face-to-face. Less time than it took them to take the pilates class side-by-side, which he attended because she advertised she liked working out on her profile.

Online dating is a numbers game. For probabilities sake, let’s say she was given 50 roses. Of the 50 roses, she ‘accepted’ 15, or 30%. Of those 15 people she accepted, she chose to correspond with one — that’s 2% of her total bouquet offering. The girl was Jessica. The guy was Frank.

Frank booked the reformer next to Jessica for the following Sunday. He messaged her each day leading up to the class, "Good morning," and "How's your day?" She found it endearing to hear from someone throughout the day, making her time at the office go faster. She smiled at her desk when the little red notification lit up her phone with another message from Frank. She wondered what his voice would sound like or what he smelled like. Would she still like his real-life persona as much as his online presence?

He asked for her number, but she insisted they meet in person first. After all, he could be a catfish. So, Frank continued to message Jessica. He told her about his weekend adventures and took an interest in her plans. “I can’t wait to meet you in person!” he wrote. She hearted the message.

On Sunday morning, she was pleasantly surprised to see his name on the iPad's roster when she checked in at the studio. Finally, a guy who followed through, she thought. Although they still hadn't spoken, Jessica felt she could trust Frank based on their frequent online exchanges. She decided he was a man of his word.

10:57 am — Jessica noticed his familiar smile as he walked through the studio doors, roller blades in hand. He looked just like his four carefully selected pictures. She was happy he was who he said he was. His muscle tank revealed an intricate oak tree tattooed expertly on his ribcage — not pictured online. Jessica liked tattoos. “Nice to meet you, Jess,” he said with a toothy grin. She liked the way he called her by her nickname. They made small talk as they waited for the instructor to start class. (2 minutes).

11:11 am — Frank whispered to Jessica that she was really flexible and good at this. (10 seconds).  Her heart fluttered because 11:11 was a lucky time. She believed in things like astrological signs, and seeing the angel number 1111 signaled she was on the right path. She closed her eyes and wished that he was her person. Maybe she could finally stop swiping, she supposed.

11:46 am — Frank approached Jessica after the class ended and the room cleared, asking her to grab a coffee, as she predicted. She told him she needed to shower for a BBQ in Connecticut. He told her he was in no rush and would be happy to wait for her outside in the sweltering NYC heat. (50 seconds)

12:07 pm — Jessica quickly rinsed off and doused her hair in dry shampoo before meeting Frank outside the gym. Her train was at 12:42 pm, so she told him their time was limited. He said no problem and offered to grab a coffee and walk her to Grand Central Station. Frank walked Jessica to the train terminal and asked for her number, which she gave him. Jessica made the train with a minute to spare. (34 minutes)

Total: 37 minutes.

Although Jessica spent more time sweating silently next to Frank than speaking to him directly, their time together was fun. Their 2 minutes + 10 seconds + 50 seconds + 34 minutes = 37 minutes conversation flowed. They laughed. They had things in common, like having a sister and living in New York City. She was confident she would see him again. Soon. She was confident because he lingered around to get her digits until her train left the station. Although she had showered, she even let him give her a sweaty hug. He even waited for her to find a seat on the train, waving as her car left the station. How chivalrous, Jessica thought.

She smiled as she sank into her seat on the train, thinking to herself how gentlemanly he was. Hours went by, and she didn’t hear from Frank. He’s playing it cool, she decided. Monday passed, and still no word from Frank. She had gotten used to his daily messages and didn’t understand why he stopped. She wondered if he was sick.

Tuesday rolled around. Then Wednesday. But Frank remained MIA. Was he hurt? Jessica decided that was the only logical explanation. She began to worry and wondered if she should show the police one of his app shots at the precinct…Then, on Thursday, she checked her matches to find him. Frank was gone — along with his digital rose.

Finally, it was Friday. She would have checked the obituaries online but had not learned his last name.

R.I.P, Frank. Even if he wasn’t confirmed dead, she was confirmed ghosted.