Stranger Danger

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I went back on Hinge for a week, and it didn’t take long to realise that it was probably the last time I’d ever download the app—at least, I hope so. I know I’m way too young to feel too old for dating apps, but somehow, I do. And honestly, the idea that if I miraculously found “the one” on there, I’d have to tell people it was because of a prompt he copied from TikTok? Not exactly the meet-cute I envisioned. Maybe that’s a silly reason to write off an entire way of meeting people, but oh well.

I actually met up with a guy this time around, he told me to meet him at the club after my Valentine’s dinner with my girls and he spent the night making jokes about my Javanese background, hitting on girls with his friend and turning his back to me. When I got home, he expressed how sorry he was for not being present and how he’d like to take me out to the dinner properly. I did not take up the offer. Dating apps are my personal hell. 

Thinking back on my time on the apps (starting at 16 or 17), I reflected on the different people I’ve talked to and the very few I’ve actually met in real life, four, to be exact. One of them was from Finland, and though we never met, we kept in touch for years. They were all short stories in my life, reminders that not everyone is meant to stay, but they can still leave an impact. Interestingly, most of them were English and white. Maybe that says something about my type. Or maybe Englishmen are just more likely to take things off the app and meet in real life?

Then there was Eaton, English, my age, olive skin, green eyes, soft brown curls, and a bright smile. We matched on Hinge not long after I became single. Lou and I were rotting in bed, smoking watermelon-flavored vapes in her apartment in Angel, London, when I decided to message him. Instead of something normal, I sent a voice note screaming, “HI EATON!” at the top of my lungs. No idea why, but I figured if that was too weird for him, he wasn’t worth my time. One thing about me? I like a very silly man.  

He texted back, “HI VIVI!” and said he’d scream too, but he was currently at the office. Solid response. He asked me to meet him at a pub, I wish I remembered where because I’d love to go back. All I know is that it was somewhere in Hackney. Lou and I walked the entire way there, which felt like hours. But we love our long walks, that’s all we do when I visit her in London. When we finally arrived, we spotted Eaton from afar. Lou let me greet him alone, kissed me goodbye, and left. As I walked toward him, he quickly looked down at his phone, pretending not to see me, which I found oddly sweet.  

We sat outside under a tree in the pub’s garden, the sun still out. He was a consultant, his girlfriend had recently cheated on him, and he was throwing a party that weekend, one I should “definitely” come to. He also lived in a super charming flat with roommates. When it started to rain, we moved inside. The pub’s interior had the vibe of an old hunting lodge, dark wood, a fireplace, football playing on the TV while old English men watched intently. We drank more wine, a beer. The conversation was easy, we laughed a lot. By the time he asked if I wanted to have dinner at his place, we were already tipsy. He claimed to make a *really good* aglio olio pasta. I, of course, agreed.  

We stopped at the shop for ingredients, then headed to his flat. Well-decorated, Scandinavian-style furniture, a record player. Boys with taste. He started cooking while I leaned against the counter, watching him. He looked incredibly handsome doing it. One of his roommates came home, an equally lovely guy who knew how to keep a conversation. Eaton wasn’t lying—the pasta was *really* good.  

Then it hit me. Aglio olio is basically just garlic. *A lot* of garlic. And I planned to kiss this gorgeous man. Were we about to have the stinkiest first kiss ever? Absolutely. And it didn’t matter, he had garlic breath too.  

He was holding my hand, looking at my rings when he gave me *the look*. You know the one—slight squint, parted lips, like they’re either trying to hold in a fart or are extremely hungry and horny. He kissed me, and next thing I knew, clothes were off. At some point, he made me stand in front of a mirror, which I didn’t love. I know a lot of women enjoy it, but I’m too self-conscious. I’ve noticed men seem to enjoy it more, almost like they’re admiring themselves. A power thing, maybe?  

Anyway, I went home after. He made some comment about having work early—classic. But I wanted to leave anyway. I wanted to see Lou. I hate when they assume we always want to stay.  

I saw him a couple more times, including at his party, the one I bought tickets for. In hindsight, I think he didn’t really care if I came, he just needed to sell more tickets. But it was a fun night, house music, Lou and I danced until morning. Eaton and I didn’t spend much time together, but at one point, I sat down on a couch, and he appeared beside me. The room was dark and humid, music blaring. We didn’t say much. He asked if I was having a good time, I said yes. Then I told him, “I could fuck you right now.” His eyes widened. I didn’t go home with him.  

I liked Eaton. If I lived in London, I probably would’ve developed a massive crush on him. The crazy in me already did. But it would’ve been a disaster, he clearly wasn’t over his ex, and I would’ve suffered for it. Instead, I went home, yapped about him to my girls for a bit, and moved on. We have mutual friends, but I doubt I’ll ever see him again. He was a breath of fresh air after ending a complicated relationship and reminded me that there are hot, English guys out there who can also take you out on cute dates. 

Then there was Gregory. 

We met on Raya in 2024. He was a decade older than me and an actor turned director. Of course, English but with a middle eastern background this time. I think the only person I liked on the app apart for the super famous people on there that I liked just cause it would be super cool if they liked me back. We started texting right away and hands down probably one of the funniest man I have ever spoken to. I was literally laughing my head off. He started aggressively sexting me right away which I didn’t really care for but I just went with it. 

Me being me, I did a super deep dive on the internet to see what he was about. Creepy, I know but I am so good at it, I should be hired by the secret services. Nothing alarming but it was interesting to see him act different roles. We texted a lot about cinema and I learned a lot about it through him. Matter of fact, he had just released a short film that he wrote, directed and played in and still to this day is one of my most favourite films. He shared the one he was working on at that moment and even asked for my opinion on music and edits like I would have any idea of what I was talking about. He made me read screenplays and ask me to promise to not share it with anyone and that I was the only one with an extra copy. Which not gonna lie, made me feel special.

We finally got to meet when I went to London to meet Lou again. I asked him if he wanted to come to the museum with me but he said that he had just watched Perfect Days so he was dedicating his day to deep clean his whole apartment. But, he proposed that I should come over for tea after my visit. He had told me prior that he had sworn celibacy for 4 months as he believes sperm retention is optimal for concentration and for manifestation. Award season was coming up and he had to release this new movie so he had to keep his juices until then. “No naughty time”, he said. I could do without the baby talk, but okay I guess. Men in their 30’s are so cooky, (refer to the “Men in their 30’s” tale). 

I rung his doorbell. “I feel like a teenager,” I said as he opened the door, “showing up to random man’s house I met on the internet”. He laughed and let me in. His flat was gorgeously decorated, classic and pristine, Perfect Days clean. He did in fact make me tea and we sat on his couch, to talk about the same things we had already talked about. He saw the Murakami book I was reading peaking out of my handbag and he said “you’re reading Murakami too? I am too right now, I love his work!” Of course, I knew this. He had expressed that on a podcast I listened to while doing my investigative work. But I’m not that crazy guys, I too am a big fan of Murakami, I was genuinely reading the book, I promise. I may have stalking tendencies but I am not a dick sucker, don’t get it twisted. 

He showed me the short film he was working on again and asked me for my opinion again, maybe he got off from the praise he got from me so he had to hear it again. He rested his hand on my thigh as we were watching it. This made me feel things. When we were done, he asked me if I’d like to lie down, I nodded and he gently guided me to his bedroom. We lied there for a bit before he kissed me. “I thought we weren’t being naughty?” I asked, “As long as I keep it in”. I enjoyed looking out his window, he had a garden, I liked how I felt the sun on my skin as he wrapped himself around me. 

He’d stop in between thrusts and start doing breathing exercises which made me want to laugh real hard, he’d shut his eyes real tight and really concentrate. “Sorry darling, it’s not easy”, he said out of breath. I couldn’t believe this was real life. This man was taking his no-nut challenge to the next level. But I liked him enough as a person to put up with his weirdness. I didn’t stay the night, Lou picked me up from his house and we walked to a Thai restaurant where I told her all about it. 

I saw him a second time before I left back to Paris and we continued to keep contact but I got bored from the incessant sexting where I asked him if he would talk to me the same if I were his age. He didn’t quite like that so he blocked me and we never spoke ever again. 

One person stood out, Here is that story. 

Jamie

I was nineteen and just starting my second year in university. It had been six years since I was last in Whistler. Back then, I was visiting a private boarding school I had earned a scholarship for—an opportunity that was taken away by my stepfather, who couldn’t stand the idea of losing control over me. But life has its own way of unfolding, and so I finished high school in Bali and then chose to live and study in Paris. This time, I was visiting my best friend Callais and her family for Christmas, who have embraced me as one of their own. To me, they are my real parents, and I respect them just as I would my biological ones. As Canadians, they take Christmas seriously and I have enjoyed being apart of their traditions all these years. We were staying in their cabin in the midst of the pine trees, the whole place covered in thick snow. We spent our days in front of the fire place looking out the window, there was something incredibly comforting about being wrapped in velvety warmth while looking at the never ending horizon sometimes covered in ominous fog. 

We’d also go down to the Village located at the base of Whistler and Blackcomb mountains, an incredibly cute place covered in Christmas lights and Hallmark-y shops that sell candied apples, hot chocolate and Christmas sweaters. We’d have lunch at Fairmont Chateau Hotel where families would sit around and have après-ski lunch and enjoy comfort food and good wine as children ran around and played in the big space. I didn’t know how to ski so I spent some mornings by myself in the cabin, trying to do my school work.

One night, while Callais and I were cozied up in our room when we somehow decided that we should make me a tinder profile. I do not recall how the conversation even started but before I knew it we were picking what photos I should use and then swiping through profiles. After a couple of minutes, we were presented with Jamies’ one, yes Jamie but plural. A white boy with boyish charm, big bright blue eyes and dark hair. He looked like those boys on Wattpad book covers. I was delighted to see that he too swiped right on me. We began our conversation, I found out that he was my age, an American from Washington State who drove to Whistler for a few days to ski with his friends. He was funny, witty and seemed intelligent. I didn’t think I was going to meet up with anybody but I wanted to meet him. Callais thought that I should too, however we had an issue. Her dad being overprotective would have never let me. We had to come up with a plan. We decided that he would be my friend Charlotte’s cousin and that I met him when he visited her in Paris in the spring. He happened to be in town as well and we wanted to hang out. I told Jamie about his new identity which he gladly accepted and said that he could finally use his years as a theater kid to use. I contacted Charlotte to make sure she knew, so that if we ever had to call her up to prove this, she would know what to say. We were at the Fairmont Hotel when I asked the parents if I could go meet this guy who I totally knew. Callais’s dad looked at me dead straight in the eyes and said: “he better not be some boy you met on tinder or something”. My heart dropped but I kept my cool and reassured him that I would never go on Tinder in the first place. I could go under one condition: he would drop me off and would have to meet him first. I had to agree. 

We planned to meet at a coffee shop in the village, dad drove me in his truck, I was so nervous the whole drive but also bubbling with excitement. We arrived a little earlier, Jamie walked in 5 minutes later and we greeted each other with a hug and acted like this wasn’t our first encounter. I asked him how he was doing and how it was nice to see him again. Surprisingly, Cal’s dad didn’t ask to many questions and told us to have a good night. We walked out of the coffee shop and walked a little until he couldn’t see us anymore. We looked at each other and bursted out laughing. We couldn’t believe how good we were at acting like we had already already met. We were both a little shy and he admitted that he was nervous but was glad we found the time to see each other. 

It was snowing a lot and the Village truly looked like a movie scene. We walked around and asked the normal questions when first meeting somebody. I felt comfortable right away. He was very funny and knew right off the bat how to make me laugh. We decided to go and have drinks and dessert at a nice cozy restaurant. He told me about his parents and his sister and funny little anecdotes about them. I suggest we get a cocktail and he expressed that he has never ordered a proper drink at the bar before because of the age limit in the U.S. So naturally, I said that we should get sloshed. I do not recall how many drinks we ended up ordering but we did in fact get drunk. I’m pretty sure we ordered the lava cake but whatever it was, it was delicious. He got the bill while he left to the bathroom, which in hindsight was a really gentleman-like thing to do for a 19 year old. We left the bar giggling away, running around the village like two little kids. It must have been freezing cold but I do not remember ever being cold, I felt warm. It is not a good look to smoke cigarettes in North America, so I was reluctant when I expressed I would have loved to have a smoke right now, what if he’d be turned off by my nasty habit and judge me for it like many Americans would. He turned to me and said “same” and in that moment I felt seen. We kind of looked at each other and knew that we had to make it our mission to get cigarettes. “I know a trick that always works,” he said “you offer someone a dollar in exchange for a cig and they always give it to you. Watch.” At that moment a group of Australians was stumbling towards us, loud and intoxicated. Jamie walked with confidence towards them and like planned offered them a dollar for a cigarette. “Ah no, that’s fine keep your money” “Are you sure?” “Yeah of course, here you go!” “Thanks man, appreciate it!”. He turned to me and gave me a cheeky smile, I do not recall if he got us two cigs or we just shared one. But it hit the spot and we were even tipsier than we already were. One is obviously never enough, so we looked for smoke shop and were lucky enough to find one. He bought us a pack with a little house on it, that I later found out he kept with him for years. We sat on a bench outside and kept conversing, I know this is a common thing to feel but I felt like I knew him already.

It felt like we would be best friends in school, that if I grew up in America he’d be in the basketball team and I would have so super American extracurricular activity as well and we’d meet after practice and sit on the bleachers right in front of the huge field everyday, just him and I eating gummies and smoking JULS before he’d drive me home in a beat up car right in time for dinner. My mum would know him well already and would ask him if he’d like to join, sometimes he says yes. We’d hang out some more in my room, pretending to do homework but we’d just talk about anything and everything. I sit on the bed and him on the floor, resting his back against the leg of my desk or my bed. We’d secretly have a crush on each other but we both end up dating different people instead of giving us a chance out of fear that it’d ruin our relationship if we took it there. Then somehow on grad night he’d drive to my house on an impulse and scream my name on my front yard and it’s raining, and I’d open the windows of my bedroom and ask him what the hell he was doing as he confesses his love for me and beg me to give it a chance, I’d come down and kiss him under the rain.

I wish I could remember everything we said to each other, and even though I have amazing memory, I really cannot remember much, all I could remember is all the different feelings that I felt that night. So much excitement, happiness and comfort. Or snippets of his rosy face and the condensation that comes out of his pink lips when he spoke about something he was passionate about. 

We knew that we had to leave each other soon, I had a 10 pm curfew and he had to drive back home early in the morning. “I have to go I said, I don’t want to get in trouble.” So he walked me to the taxi spot, “Well, it was really nice getting to know you.” “Yeah, it was.” He opened the door for me and we both stood there again and hesitated. But, I just smiled and got in the cab as I watched him watch me drive away. 

We exchanged numbers, texted and called a few times, fantasising about seeing each other again, where I’d show him Paris and he would drive me around his city. But obviously the conversation started to die out. I never got to see him again, we were both too broke to see each other and eventually started new relationships of our own. But I thought about him a lot over the years and wondered what he was doing or what could’ve been. 

This was a story I wouldn’t have mind sharing with others if we ever got together even though it all started on Tinder. 

Sometimes, the song that played at the bar we stopped by at comes up and I smile to myself at the sweet thought of that night. 

Bali, February 2025