Our conversation is effortless and flirty, and we don't realize we're the last ones in the restaurant until the waiter politely tells us they're trying to close.
When I confess to Meg that the bike isn't mine and that the photo was taken during the first and only time I'd ridden one, she doesn't seem to hear me.
I give her my number, and soon enough-stranger are an entertaining diversion.
As it gets later, however, Lori's messages take a blunt turn.
"), before realizing she had a system rigged to let her friend know if she needed rescuing from the "Tinder dude." I spend two weeks in New York, hoping it will prove to be an especially fertile ground to get my Tinder on. Within two days, I've been matched with more than 60 women.
One night I meet up with Nicole, a 34-year-old designer of throw pillows, and when it's clear that neither of us is really feeling it, I log on to Tinder and set up a date with Casey, a 28-year-old who works at Google, whom I meet at a bar up the block an hour later for... Two days later, things take a promising turn when I find myself at a Brooklyn taco joint with Meg, a 29-year-old fashion exec I'd exchanged a flurry of messages with.