It’s Going Down, I’m Yelling Tinder. Part 1

cheating, tinder, dating, honesty, relationship, threesome, integrity, communication, swiping, travel, international, single

Tinder makes the world smaller.  And sexier.  I’m a huge fan of online dating as a connection tool and way to create reasons to cross paths with people from all backgrounds.

But, sometimes things don’t go accordingly to plan.

My story starts with a solo trip to Mexico.  A kind of ‘eat, pray, love’ journey that turned more into ‘drink, sex, laugh.’  But, I guess that’s more my flow these days anyway.

The first day I landed, I was fortunate enough to meet a fantastic gay man -James – who invited me to his beach house for a pool party.  There, I met his fabulous friends, including a straight woman named Ann.  Ann was a gorgeous Canadian woman who had married a Mexican man she met on, wait for it. . . . TINDER!   He couldn’t make it to the party, but she told me a bit about their relationship and I immediately knew I wanted to be her friend.

James and I continued to hang out during my trip and we laughed at each other’s Tinder schenanigans.  Ann and I started following each other on Instagram and I invited her and her husband to a party the following night to celebrate my final night in Mexico.

That morning, happily swiping away, I matched with a few sexy men.  One in particular was attractive enough that I violated my only online dating rule: swipe left if there’s nothing in the bio.

We matched and were texting immediately.  A few minutes into our communication, my female intuition kicked in.  The story of his back injury, his history as an athlete. . . ‘holy shit,’ I thought to myself.  This is Ann’s husband.  I raced as fast as my little fingers would take me to her instagram and started scrolling.  The pictures matched.  The tattoos matched.  Fuck.

She’d never alluded to an open relationship.  His profile had no photos or mention of a wife.  Now what?  I could delete him and pretend nothing happened, except that he may be showing up to the party that night.  I could call him out and tell him to tell her or I would.  I could tell James and leave it on his shoulders.  I did what I always do when I’m not sure what to do:  nothing.  I sat.  I meditated.  I ran on the treadmill and then I texted him.

And, then I texted her:

And, then I texted James and asked him to be on standby in case I’d just exploded her world and she needed friend support.

And, then I waited.  . .

To be continued.



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