There I was, curled on the couch, laptop glowing, phone in hand. It was a Tuesday evening, a prime time for aimless swiping. My recent breakup with Dave was still fresh enough to make dipping my toes back into the dating pool feel less like a joyful splash and more like a cautious dip into icy water. I wasn't looking for fireworks, just a quiet flicker of connection, which is often what draws me to a place like feelflame.com. I appreciated the focus on real profiles and genuine conversation, a nice break from the usual digital noise.
The Slip of the Thumb
I was in that zone where you're half-watching a reality TV show and half-scanning profiles. You know the one: where your thumb develops a mind of its own, flicking left and right with practiced ease. Then it happened. A face popped up, vaguely familiar, handsome in a rugged sort of way. My thumb, in its relentless pursuit of progress, executed a flawless swipe right.
My eyes, however, caught the name a split second too late: "Mark."
My heart did a little lurch. Mark. Not just a Mark, but the Mark. Dave's best friend. The guy who'd been at every single one of Dave's birthday parties, the one who always beat me at Pictionary during game nights, the one who probably knew every embarrassing detail of my past relationship. My stomach dropped faster than a lead balloon.
Panic Mode Engaged
My entire body went rigid. "No, no, no," I whispered to my phone, as if it could hear me. The screen glowed back, mocking my blunder. Did he see it? Did he swipe right on me too? The thought of Mark finding my profile, seeing my photo, and knowing I’d essentially said, "Hey, interested!" sent a hot flush up my neck. The casual, relaxed evening instantly transformed into a high-stakes espionage mission. My immediate instinct was to unmatch, to pretend it never happened, to vanish into the digital ether. But then the insidious thought crept in: what if he hadn't seen it yet, and my unmatch would be the very thing to draw his attention? The irony was brutal.
The Aftermath (or Lack Thereof)
I stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only twenty seconds. My thumb hovered, twitching. Eventually, I made the executive decision to unmatch. Swiftly. Painlessly. Hopefully, before any notifications could even register on his end. I closed Feelflame for the night and probably didn't open it again for a good 24 hours, just in case. I spent the next few days in a low-level state of paranoia, half-expecting a text from Dave saying, "So, you and Mark, huh?" or an awkward run-in at the grocery store.
Thankfully, nothing came of it. No awkward messages, no knowing glances. Just the lingering, slightly cringeworthy memory of that one accidental swipe. It was a stark reminder that even when you're just casually browsing, the internet always finds a way to keep things interesting. And sometimes, a little too close to home.