I had such a nice time with you last night. That Vietnamese place hit the spot, and I loved how we had so much to talk about. It’s hard to meet good people these days and make a genuine connection, you know? And I feel like we really had something, what with your experience studying abroad in Paris and me having a French great-uncle. What a coincidence!
So things are moving in a great direction. We laugh at the same jokes, you care about progressive causes, and we both think that the dancing-hot-dog Snapchat meme is a riot. You like to travel; I like to take walks. Finding common ground is very important to me. And, sitting there with you in the Vietnamese restaurant, joking about that roommate who doesn’t even Venmo, I felt like we were learning a lot about who we are.
This may be a bit forward, and I do want to take things slow—we don’t want to spoil a good thing—but do you want to come over to my place? We can cook or we can just do Seamless, whatever you prefer. I just want to get to know you better. We can listen to records in my room. I have some great old jazz LPs my dad gave me for occasions like these. We can dim the lights, sit back, and get comfortable.
What I’m really trying to ask is: Would you like to sit on my bed with me and check Twitter?
I know, I know, it’s one thing to listen to Coltrane while checking Twitter on your own bed, alone, and it’s another to do it together, on the same bed. You’ll have so many notifications to get to, as will I, and you’ll be laughing faintly at a tweet you just read, while I’ll peer over your shoulder to see what I’m missing. You’ll say, “Nothing much,” and I’ll tell you about the awesome “Simpsons”-quotes accounts I follow. All of them are great.
We can stare into each other’s screens, or just our own. We can receive the same alerts about Donald Trump’s latest horrible tweet—together. Maybe our knees will graze (accidentally!). The light from your phone will bring out the color in your eyes.
Do you have any D.M.s? Is that too personal a question? I won’t even ask. Maybe we can think up tweets together or, like, subtweet each other. I got almost thirty retweets a month ago, for my Sergey Kislyak joke. I’ll pull it up for you. You’ll love it.
Maybe later, you can ask me to take a Snapchat for your story—just of you since we’re not at that level. Unless you think we are there. If you think so, we can totally be in the same picture, but that’s a big step. I don’t know if we’re ready.
Are you still checking Twitter? That’s O.K. I’m going to keep checking mine for a minute, too. This is so nice, just spending time with you. You have some great tweets. And I—hey, on your screen there, it looks like you have a new message.
Wait. You haven’t deleted your Tinder yet?