Between The Matches

After things ended with Will, I didn’t immediately go back on Hinge.

And by that, I mean I waited about four days.

I tried distracting myself with other things. I started making birthday plans despite my birthday being three months away, spent time with family, and did my best to stay busy.

But Saturday night, I found myself sitting home alone with nothing to do.

And I was bored.

So I reactivated my Hinge account and started swiping.

The first person I matched with was a guy we’ll call Ivan.

His first message was simple.

Ivan: Hey, how’s your night going?

There was something about his energy that immediately stood out to me. He was cheerful, enthusiastic, and genuinely seemed excited to talk. I found myself matching that energy.

Me: Great! Just hanging out with some friends. What are you up to?

Ivan: Just spending the night at home.

It sounds silly, but I loved that answer.

So many people on dating apps try to present themselves as constantly busy, always out with friends, always doing something exciting. The reality is that most of us spend plenty of nights sitting at home. Including me.

Ivan’s honesty was refreshing.

That night we talked until almost 1 AM.

Anyone who knows me knows that I never stay up that late. But I didn’t want to end the conversation.

The same thing happened throughout the week. We’d stay up talking far later than either of us should have. I was waking up at 5 AM for work, and when I found out he was waking up at 3 AM, I actually felt guilty for keeping him awake.

Our conversations were easy. The kind where hours disappear without you realizing it.

I was down the shore for a few days, but I was coming home the Saturday before Easter. Ivan already had plans to go to the Yankee game that night, so we weren’t sure when we’d squeeze in our first date.

Then Friday morning, he texted me.

His cousin could no longer make the game and he suddenly had an extra ticket.

Ivan: No pressure at all, especially if you won’t be back in time. But if you want to come, the ticket is yours. You’re who I want to go with.

My heart fluttered.

It wasn’t the invitation itself.

It was the way he said it.

You’re who I want to go with.

Against my usual better judgment, I said yes immediately. The new me was taking a chance on things and saying “yes” more.

The next morning, I rushed home and spent entirely too much time deciding what to wear. April weather in New York is unpredictable enough without adding first-date nerves into the equation.

When Ivan pulled up, he got out of the car to greet me with a hug and opened the passenger door for me before I got in.

So far, so good.

Then he climbed into the driver’s seat and opened his phone to pull up directions.

Unfortunately, Hinge was already open.

And not to our conversation.

To another woman’s profile.

Now before you start yelling at me through the page, let me explain.

Online dating is chaos. You can have incredible conversations with someone and still never meet them. You can go on three dates and never hear from them again. You can think something is going somewhere and be completely wrong.

At that point, Ivan and I had never even met. So while I definitely noticed it, I tucked it away in the back of my mind and decided not to let it ruin what was shaping up to be a great night.

And it was.

On the train ride into the city, we talked the entire way. About our families, our jobs, our friends, our lives.

We kissed before we even got off the train.

By then, I was already having a fantastic time.

At one point, Ivan mentioned that his cousins (including the one who bailed on him) would also be at the game.

“Would it bother you if we met up with them for a little while?” he asked.

“Not at all,” I said honestly. “I’d love to meet them.”

And I really meant it.

To me, it felt like a good sign. Not because I was planning our future together after one week of talking, but because he seemed genuinely excited to have me there.

Once we got to the stadium, we found our seats and settled in.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that Ivan was exactly the kind of person you’d want to go to a Yankee game with.

He somehow became friends with everyone around us.

He was funny, outgoing, and just the right amount of crazy. The fun kind of crazy.

Eventually we met up with his cousins.

His cousin Casey and his girlfriend, Gabby, immediately welcomed me into the group. His other cousin, Amy, was just as friendly.

The night quickly became less about the game and more about spending time together.

We wandered around the stadium, helped Casey find a sweatshirt because he hadn’t dressed for the chilly April evening weather, and spent hours talking and laughing.

At one point, Ivan disappeared to the bathroom.

When he came back, he looked at me and laughed.

“What did you do to Amy?”

My eyes widened. “What do you mean? Nothing! We were just talking.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s a good thing. She never likes the girls I bring around.”

“It’s true,” Amy called from behind us.

I won’t lie. I was pretty proud of that.

The rest of the night felt easy.

Ivan would wrap his arms around me from behind while we talked or pull me in for a quick kiss.

It felt natural. Comfortable.

And strangely familiar.

Like the kind of connection I had almost forgotten existed.

After the Yankees won, we headed over to Stan’s for one last drink before catching the train home.

By that point, I’d had enough liquid courage to bring up something that had been sitting in the back of my mind all night.

“I saw your phone when you picked me up.”

Ivan immediately grimaced.

“Sorry. I accidentally clicked on it.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” I said. “It’s okay that you’re still looking. You’re not my boyfriend.”

And I genuinely meant that.

He looked at me for a moment.

Then wrapped his arms around my waist.

“I’m deleting it.”

“No, don’t do that because I said something,” I said. I wasn’t going to be that girl.

“I’m not deleting it because you said something,” he replied. “I’m deleting it because I want to.”

We said goodbye to Casey, Amy, and Gabby, caught the train home, and eventually made it back to my apartment.

Earlier that morning, Ivan had packed a small overnight bag.

He had jokingly told me that I could either ask him to stay or send him home.

When we got back, I asked him to stay. And I was glad I did.