After seven years, I felt it was time to step away from dating apps.
Well, not completely—who was I kidding? As an introvert who writes about dating and sex for my profession, I wasn’t about to erase my accounts or completely ditch the apps. But I was finished depending on them as my sole means of meeting new people.
At that moment, I had no clue just how significant that choice would prove to be—or that another social media platform was about to transform everything.
### Discovering Love Online—Without Dating Apps
It was 2021, COVID restrictions were being lifted, and I was eager for a serious relationship. At 27, I had been utilizing dating apps since my semester abroad in London in 2014 when I hardly knew anyone in my program. But now, living in New York City with a solid support system, I had no reason not to be proactive. It was time to think outside the box.
During the early pandemic days, I spent a lot of time on YouTube and came across comedian Kurtis Conner, who was set to go on tour that October. Aware of how active he was on social media, I saw a chance to find a date beyond the usual platforms—Tinder, Hinge, and Bumble. So, I purchased two tickets to one of his shows in Manhattan.
At that time, Conner often interacted with fans on Twitter (back when it still went by Twitter). If I couldn’t find a date in real life, I intended to tweet at him for assistance.
As anticipated from my introverted nature, I didn’t secure a date in person. So, I moved on to the next phase: tweeting.
“Is this even a smart move?” I queried my friends. It felt exposing to publicly declare I was seeking a date—especially considering the chance of my tweet reaching millions. However, my friends motivated me. With risk comes reward.
A week before the event, I tweeted out my request.
Minutes later, a message appeared in my inbox:
*”Omg I’m so invested in this now (also I am free but I assume u have 7,000 applicants at this point).”*
The message was from Kat Tenbarge, a fellow journalist and Twitter mutual. I didn’t know her personally, but I admired her work—and she was attractive. I was shocked that she had reached out.
*”Haha well you are the first person to DM and I’d love to go with you!”* I responded almost instantly. It was indeed true—others reached out afterward, but Kat was the first.
We exchanged numbers and arranged to meet at City Winery, the venue for the show, which specialized in wine and cheese.
### My First Twitter Date
As someone who typically arrives early, I showed up first and queued outside the venue. I had never met Kat before, and the typical first-date nerves kicked in. Additionally, I faced the classic sapphic question: *Was this even a date?*
Kat had shared photos for Lesbian Visibility Day, so I knew she was interested in women. I had also been open about my bisexuality—including writing about it for Mashable. But we hadn’t explicitly labeled it a date. While I hoped it was, I also considered the chance that she was simply looking for a new friend.
Kat, who I would later find out was perpetually late, arrived after me. I had already scouted out seats near the stage and ordered a cocktail to calm my nerves, alongside a charcuterie board for us to share.
We conversed effortlessly before the show began, and afterward, we opted to extend the night at a bar close to our Brooklyn neighborhood—only four subway stops away.
Before the night wrapped up, fueled by both alcohol and excitement, I finally inquired: *”So… was this a date?”*
With a radiant smile I’ve since come to cherish, Kat affirmed that yes, it was. Feeling even more encouraged, I asked if I could kiss her. Once more, she said yes(!).
I departed from the night feeling tipsy—not just from the cocktails, but from sheer elation. Not only had it been a wonderful date, but I had orchestrated it through creativity (and, alright, a little Twitter help).
A few months later, I asked Kat to be my girlfriend. This time, I was genuinely finished with dating apps. I deleted my accounts, removed the apps from my phone, and never looked back.