This week, a type A woman is distracted by great sex with a relaxed woman from the apps: 30, single, New York
DAY ONE
7:12 a.m. Wake to a TikTok from my brother, a text from my co-worker, and a Bible verse from my aunt. The message I open first is from Izzy, the woman I’ve been seeing for two months: “I had a dream about you. You weren’t wearing much.” Cosmo, my cat and the only man permitted to judge me, sits on my chest and looks at me disapprovingly. I tell him to mind his business.
8:20 a.m. On the train, I delete three responses before sending, “Maybe your dreams are trying to tell you something.” Flirting, but with plausible deniability. Izzy replies with a smirking emoji. “Trust me, I got the message.”
10:35 a.m. I lead a meeting and try to sound focused while my phone lights up. My nonprofit marketing job requires a nearly spiritual devotion to spreadsheets and follow-up emails. Izzy, meanwhile, treats plans like polite suggestions. I should find this more irritating.
12:46 p.m. Eat a salmon-avocado rice bowl while my co-worker tells me about a boat trip with her husband and five children. Texting while someone is speaking is rude, and I swear I’m not rude. But Izzy and I have traded increasingly flirtatious messages all morning. My co-worker notices my smile and assumes it’s because of her story.
6:18 p.m. Warm up sweet potatoes and ground beef and start The Princess Diaries 2. Several weeks ago, this couch held me through four movies, two bowls of ice cream, and the end of my miserable eight-month relationship with Monica. My anxiety was at an all-time high, and I was exhausted from begging for an ounce of care. Ending things saved my mental health. That same night, fresh from an hour-long shower, I made a Hinge profile: two close-ups, one full-body photo, and one with Cosmo. I kept everything simple and serious until my final prompt: “Do you know the Muffin Man?” An hour later, a response from a wild-haired, deep-dimpled woman named Izzy: “Who lives on Drury Lane?”
11:41 p.m. FaceTime Izzy. Her dimples appear whenever she says something that makes me blush. “Come over tomorrow,” she says. I tell her I need more notice. She laughs.
