When she walked into SoHo's newest lounge, Max was taken aback by her cargo pants and dark brunette locks. She had lighter hair on her Hinge profile, and he’d envisioned more of a girl who summers in Martha’s Vineyard. (He didn't expect such a Kim Possible vibe.) “Heather?” he asks, extending his arm for a side hug. She leans in awkwardly and says, “I can’t believe you got a reservation here—I’ve been on the waiting list for months.” She seems jittery. Nervous. He smirks and debates whether he should reply, “I waited longer for your Hinge match than I did this reservation.” He misses his chance when the maître d' interrupts, “Follow me right this way.”
Max follows both women up a mirrored, Studio 54 staircase feeling confident. He knows Heather approves of his taste, and she’s ostensibly more invested in the date than he is. If he’s being honest, his biggest concern is that this very cool, very Old Hollywood jazz lounge might be wasted on a fling. When they settle into two overstuffed leather armchairs, he gets a good look at her. Yeah, he thinks, she’s definitely attractive. Her big blue eyes make her a “solid eight,” which he tells his friends at dinner the next night. Two drinks and two hours go by, and he’s now sure of one thing: She’s fun. He likes being in her company, likes that she’s amused by his jokes, and likes that she can carry a conversation.
But then Heather says she recently quit her consulting job to pursue a career in the arts. “I’m not sure yet, either grad school or acting…” she trails off. Max wonders if she’s going through a quarter-life crisis or if she’s always this indecisive. It brings him to the same nagging thought: I don’t know if I see myself with her long-term. Yes, he knows, she’s cool, funny, smart—all the things. But for some reason, he can’t decide whether all of that's enough. Whether he can envision himself with her long-term. So he takes a hefty sip of his Old Fashioned before asking the make-or-break question: “So, why’d you match with me?” Anxiously, she replies, “I don’t know. You checked a lot of boxes.” And when he presses, she admits, “I want a stable finance guy, but honestly, most of you are unbearably boring. You seemed different.” Now Max understood: He was the type of guy *she* saw herself with.
When Heather inevitably asked the question back, Max stalled: “Well, for one, you’re beautiful.” It was the truth. But it was also true that he had matched with a different girl in mind. Despite following this date up with another (and many late-night hookups after that), Max could never quite see Heather as the ‘girlfriend’ he’d imagined. Meanwhile, Heather could never understand what was missing. His reluctance to move things forward was baffling to her—their connection felt more real than anything. Yet, as hard-to-get reservations devolved into 2 a.m. dive bars, she realized—this was all he’d ever offer her.