The moment I realized I had fallen in love happened in a way that many modern love stories nowadays do.
It happened on Tinder.
Tinder, for those of you that have lives and don't spend an inordinate amount of time swiping left or right as photos of your preferred sexual preference pop up, is a dating app where you do exactly that. A photo, usually already put through some sort of Instagram filter by the user, will come up and, if you think the person is attractive, you swipe to the right. If you think the person looks like they may kill you in your sleep, you swipe left and banish them from your phone forever. If both people swiped right, you get matched up and are granted access to send the other individual messages, my personal favorite/most confusing I've received being "You should make an app that teaches other girls how to smile... how tall r u?"
When I downloaded Tinder in Muncie, I did it as a joke and, honestly, in a fairly small college town, it was a joke. The people I was getting matched with were usually friends or boys I'd seen at parties for the last four years. In Muncie, it wasn't a dating app -- it was a subtle recognition of attractiveness between people I saw on an every day basis. Save for getting one guy's phone number that I'd had an embarrassingly large crush on for four years based solely on the fact that he looked uncannily like my hot high school History teacher, I never bothered using Tinder as an actual dating device.
As a general rule, I don't tell anyone on Tinder where I work, mostly because I was taught not to divulge personal information to strangers on the Internet after I became obsessed and, in some very lame, very pre-teen circles, slightly Internet famous in the 7th grade by starting a Xanga based solely on Matthew Underwood from Zoey 101.
The fact that I had a Xanga based solely on someone who cutoff the sleeves on all their shirts is maybe the most embarrassing thing about me.
Because of this, instead of telling people that I work at The Globe, when asked, I simply say that I am a newspaper designer, working at my job until December.
Considering the fact that my Tinder profile picture is me looking straight grizzly in the full- bear suit from Workaholics, it's amazing to me that people swipe right instead of putting me in the "Looks Like They Could Kill Me In My Sleep" category. While I have received more than a few "I fur sure want to meet you" messages, it's even more impressive to me that, in the specific instance where I fell in love, a MIT doctoral student from Amsterdam decided to strike up a conversation with me, a girl in a bear suit who's profile vaguely states "Avid fan of ampersands and using Kanye West lyrics as photo captions."
Literally, the straightest grizzly on Tinder.
Likely because most people want to make sure they're Tindering with a functional member of society before they meet up in RL, the conversation that I had with the Amsterdam Doctorate Human eventually drifted toward our jobs. I gave him my generic, one-line spiel and, as we continued to chat about our dream jobs, I revealed that I'd be leaving my position in December and searching for a new opportunity.
"Well," he said unknowingly. "Next step, Boston Globe?"
And, that is the moment, everyone, that I fell in love -- not with Amsterdam Doctorate Human, but with my life. Because, really, how lucky am I? I just graduated in May and have been given this wonderful opportunity for the next six months to not just work at a newspaper, but to work at a newspaper as well-known as The Boston Globe. Every day, I get to go work at a place that, in a conversation about dream jobs, was the first choice pick. I love my job. I miss my friends and Muncie and being in college, but really, I don't miss it as much as I thought I would. I love being a (semi) adult. I love having a routine and commuting and grabbing coffee with co-workers and going into my office every day genuinely excited to be there and work on whatever design challenges the day throws at me. And, truly, I am absolutely in love with Boston.
Over three years ago, we moved here from the most beautiful place that could possibly exist and, while Sandpoint will always be my hometown, there's no place in my life I'd rather be right now than in Boston. As I write this, I just came from work. I spent the day designing sports graphics and now, I'm sitting under a tree at Boston Common, the sun is out, a man in front of me is strumming on his guitar and behind me, there's the faint smell of marijuana smoke picked up by the breeze from a group of high school boys trying not to look nervous as they boldly pass their joint from person to person with shaking hands. Being here makes me smile and despite the drastically different circumstances, the atmosphere and happiness I'm feeling reminds me of last Tuesday night.
Last Tuesday, my brother Jonny and I went to see Arcade Fire with our friends Sarah and Mackenzie. Like my current experience at Boston Common, I'd spent the day designing graphics for The Globe, the sun was shining down on us at the outdoor arena and, like most concerts, there was a faint trace of smoke coming from somewhere behind us. Unlike my current experience at Boston Common, the most beautiful human being to ever exist sat directly in front of us.
This man was literally the most gorgeous man I'd ever laid eyes on and I've laid eyes on Zayn Malik, although it should be noted that he looked strikingly similar to Zayn (so much so to the point that I did the most uncool thing ever and pulled up a Google image search of Zayn to hold up next to this poor man's head while he was unknowingly just watching Dan Deacon perform). It's a good thing that I already saw Arcade Fire perform this tour in March because I spent an embarrassingly long portion of the concert staring at this man's profile and debating his relationship status between him and the girl accompanying him to the concert. At one point, I broke off my eye-admiring and looked up, only to catch Jonny's eye from three seats down. He held my eye contact, then grinned and nodded, the two of us sharing a sibling moment and reveling in this man's painful attractiveness, which I appreciated, but did think was a little odd that even my brother was overwhelmed by this stranger's face.
As it would turn out, upon later discussion, while Jonny and I had both thought that we'd shared a sibling moment, we really did not succeed. I thought he was also admiring the most astounding face in the universe.
He was actually admiring the chicken wing that the most astounding face in the universe was consuming.
The Arcade Fire/chicken wing moment may not have been our strongest sibling moment, but Jonny, Dana and I have definitely had our shared moments, especially when it comes to falling in love with Boston and our lives here now. Three years ago, the thought of leaving our safe hometown, the only place we'd ever grown up, was absolutely horrifying. Through the past few years, we've learned to adjust and change and love the opportunities that have been thrown at us.
Now, we know we can live anywhere. And, we know we can love it.
But, for now, we're in love with Boston. While I find it ironically depressing that I realized I was in love with my life whilst using Tinder, I do think that realization is the most beautiful thing that could ever happen to a person -- even more beautiful than the face of a stranger sitting in front of me at the Arcade Fire concert.