I Stalked My Tinder Match On Instagram And Found His Wife
After taking almost a decade off from internet dating and curating an Instagram feed full of thirst traps, I thought it was time to finally make my big return to romance. I wasn’t getting any younger and decided to make an effort to finally meet someone — even if it meant meeting them online (ugh, gross).
You see the same kinds of people on these apps. Losers, bros, losers, musicians, bros, but there was one guy whose picture caught my eye through the sea of men making their best man speeches. (Note: almost every guy has a best man speech photo. Like we get it, you have friends.)
I swiped right, and we quickly matched. From his brief profile I could tell he was funny, and so lanky he probably weighed less than me. But most importantly, he was tall. (Some women get a bad rap for being a height snob, but as a 6’ woman, I feel like I have the right to be. I once hooked up with a guy who was 5’5. We were cuddling. He was a big spoon. His arm couldn’t reach all the way around me. It felt like I had a leprechaun on my back. So yes, for me, height matters.)
Within minutes of us matching, he messaged me. Then a rare thing happened. Only once in a blue moon does this occur with dating apps, but yes — there was banter! We were having an actual conversation that wasn’t awkward. My match seemed to be going well. So I did what anyone in my situation would do: I stalked him.
Instagram — the only happy place that’s left on social media. It’s hard to tell what someone's life is really like on this platform. Everything is just an image of how people want to present themselves. It's full of success, weird pictures of food, and people doing yoga poses on mountains. You never see anyone’s breakdown. But the one thing you can see... is someone’s wife.
It wasn’t hard to find her. They share a hashtag for their dogs. (Another trend I think people need to relax with, but we can get into this at another time.) The hashtag revealed a girl that looked strangely like me — this guy definitely has a type. With tall, long reddish blonde hair, we could have been sisters, except she was a dancer. I know, what a nightmare. She seemed fun and carefree like she wasn’t afraid to sing karaoke. She was the version of me I wish I were.
This one hashtag sent me down a spiral. I found their wedding photos. It was a small ceremony, and occurred last June in her family’s yard upstate. They lived on the Upper East Side with their two dogs, Casper and Jasper. They spent last Halloween at a house party dressed as '50s mobbers. Two months ago, they vacationed in the UK together. I became less interested in this man and more interested in this couple. I needed to know more about them. Were they still married? If not, why did their marriage fall apart after a year? And if they were still married, why would he cheat on his wife with the non-dancer version of her?
“Good morning beautiful,” he sent me the next day. I wanted to ghost, but I was in too deep. Not for him, but for their story. I needed answers. That's when a stalking breakthrough happened. The beautiful dancer was tagged in a photo, which prompted even more questions in my head.
The photo revealed two stunning women with their arms wrapped around each other, the sunset peaking though the cracks of their embrace. The caption read, “So I met someone.” Boom. She left him for a woman. I’m ready to solve murder cases. Through my investigation I discovered he wasn’t a cheater at all. (Well, I also found this out by just asking him. He was honest. “I got separated a few months ago,” he said, leaving out all the juicy stuff.)
Feeling relieved, I scheduled a date for that night. And when I finally got to meet him, he was... well, fine. It’s always the ones you are excited to meet who let you down. He was cute, but in a nerdy way, and his thin hair was more prominent in person. Despite being misled by his pictures, I thought he was nice, easy to talk to and still very tall. I decided to give him a chance since I was new to the game — but my motives were different now. I no longer cared about meeting a potential soulmate. I needed to become best friends with this cool hip lesbian couple he was associated with. Okay, maybe not best friends. I just wanted to know the whole story, and maybe one day meet them in passing when we pick up the dogs from them.
I found myself watching their instagram stories everyday. They were celebrities to me, and for some strange reason I became obsessed with them. They were just so in love. I had never seen two people that in love before.
Our next date was an early one. You can tell how much you like a person by how early you wake up for them; what I learned from this encounter is that I did not like this guy enough to have woken up that early. We had a picnic in a park by his house. He brought his two dogs, their dogs. The ones whose hashtag got me into this mess. It started to rain, and he suggested we go back to his place to finish the picnic indoors, which was conveniently close by.
There I was, in the house that he once shared with her. The dancer's house where there were still photos of her on the wall. The dogs cuddled up with me on the couch, and we began to kiss. That is when the very tall and recently divorced man who did not look like his photos pulled out his pecker.
Yes, pecker. That is what I’m going to call it because it was not worthy enough to be called a penis. I decided then and there that this was not worth the opportunity to meet my future friends. I still didn’t even know if I liked the guy, and here he was ready to “do it.” I pretended I had to go, he walked me to the train, and I felt this was the last we’d ever see each other.
I was bummed I didn’t find out more to their story. I am not bummed that I will never have to see that man's pecker again. I was just so intrigued by it all. Those two girls. They were so in love. I was genuinely jealous of what they had. I can only hope to one day experience the connection that this random Tinder guy's ex wife and her new girlfriend have.