I’m walking down the street, and I do a double-take at a woman. Who is she? Do I know her? She’s not striking, not gorgeous. She’s attractive, though. I scratch my head. She doesn’t seem to know me. In fact, she doesn’t seem to notice that I exist.
I take a few more steps, and it dawns on me. I’ve seen her face on Tinder. And on Happ’n. And on Hinge. And on OK Cupid. I don’t use any of those sites all that much – Tinder is the one I use the most, but every so often, someone appears who has the same profile picture on each app. I think I do. (Actually, I know I don’t: I did, but one or another of those apps didn’t like my wolf – they wanted a picture of me. And insisted. So I gave them a picture of the back of a bald head. Not mine, actually, but what do they know.)
Anyway, it’s funny – this woman I saw, I felt almost like I knew her, just because I’d seen her picture, what, four times?
It’s a small dating world.