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And he called it the “T-Wash” because his name was Trevor. When T-Wash, as he has now become known, got up to go to the bathroom, I texted my friends to tell them the date was a dud. For some reason, even though we were basically the only ones in the bar, the server took her sweet time coming over to us and as a result, I had to sit there and, at T’s request, explain why I wasn’t down for date numero dos.They agreed to meet me at the subway station and when T came back, I informed him that I had to get going. (Fun fact: It turns out that he changed from his work clothes into sweatpants because I “seemed like an easy-going chick.”)As soon as my debit payment went through, I waved goodbye and booked it out of the bar.

I agreed, and started talking about my love of travel—at which point, he interrupted me to say I probably “still owned Uggs though”…

After hearing a few success stories, I decided to give it a shot again.

I was 24 and living with my parents and figured new year, new me, right? My Tinder date, first of all, showed up to our date spot—a Timothy’s Cafe—unfashionably 30 minutes late.

And then he did—wearing grey sweatpants and a Bob Marley t-shirt.

We sat down in a booth and he immediately starting talking about everything from his childhood to his job. Clear that this wasn’t going to be a two-way conversation, I went into interview mode.

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