I joined JSwipe, the Jewish dating app, in July 2014 after spending a year living in my parents’ house and being frustrated with my inability to meet single Jewish men in the west San Fernando Valley. I spent the next year swiping left and right, learning the ins and outs of online dating.
I quickly learned that looking for dates through an app is a numbers game — and so, in order to succeed, I started going on three to four dates a week. I also found I appreciated guys who showed initiative and hated being “pen pals.”
In September 2015, during the peak of my JSwipe dating career, I matched with Jeff, a 25-year-old Arizona State alum from the Valley. After exchanging a few messages, Jeff asked me out for a drink one evening. I missed his message because I didn’t check JSwipe that day, but I was excited to see his initiative and requested a raincheck.
Thus began our texting conversation, which was as far as his initiative took him. I expected him to move forward with our drink plans, but instead we fell into a “pen-pal” relationship with our text messages. He would text me almost every day, asking about my day but never trying to make plans to meet in person.
One day, after almost a month of nonsensical texting, I had a new response to Jeff’s daily text. I insisted that we meet in person instead of continuing to just text, so we made plans to meet at a Starbucks in the Valley. But when the day of that meeting came around, my phone died. As an iPhone-dependent millennial, I panicked at the thought of not having a functioning phone and made the first available appointment at an Apple store that evening. I canceled my plans with Jeff through a Facebook message and offered yet another raincheck.
While I continued my texting “relationship” with Jeff, I kept searching JSwipe for an assertive guy who would cut to the chase (unlike Jeff). I finally matched with Adam, a 26-year-old from the Valley with whom I had a dozen mutual friends. We exchanged a couple of messages on JSwipe and he promptly asked me out for dinner on the upcoming weekend. Pleasantly surprised by his confidence, I accepted his invitation.
I met Adam at my favorite pizza place, 800 Degrees. He was tall and funny. Our conversation flowed in between bites of veggie pizza. After dinner, Adam invited me back to his new apartment to watch the second half of the Lakers game. I hesitated, but he assured me his roommates would also be there watching the game and he would keep everything PG.
While walking up to his apartment, Adam excitedly explained that he had just moved in with two of his best friends from college. I was their first guest. Adam called out to his roommate as we walked in, “J, I’m home! There’s someone I want you to meet.”
I heard J’s footsteps approaching and was then met by a familiar face. My stomach dropped as I realized “J” stood for Jeff — the same Jeff I bailed on a few days earlier — and there I was standing in his apartment doorway.
Visibly taken aback, Jeff slowly extended his hand and said, “Hi, Sivan.” I was mortified and felt my skin crawl. I had never felt so uncomfortable. My hand shook as I extended it to meet his. “Hi, Jeff. Nice to meet you in person.”
“Oh, you guys know each other?” Adam said, surprised at our familiarity.
“From JSwipe …” I slowly responded. “It really is a small Jewish world.”
Adam awkwardly giggled and tried to make small talk. As the pieces came together in my mind, I realized I was standing in the same “new” apartment Jeff told me about a month earlier. Both Jeff and Adam were Arizona State alumni from the Valley, who recently made the move to West L.A. They’re the same age. I should have made the connection.
Adam broke the ice and offered to take me on a tour of the apartment. The pit in my stomach became almost unbearable while walking into his room.
“I am so sorry about that, Adam,” I said. “Jeff and I only texted one another. We never actually met in person. I had no idea you guys were roommates, and I feel so uncomfortable about this.”
Adam assured me that he wouldn’t lose any sleep over the coincidental encounter, noting that he just as easily could have been on the other side of the situation.
I decided to leave instead of watching the game. It would be too awkward for me to stay.
Adam insisted on walking me to my car, and I repeatedly apologized for the awkward meeting. Without missing a beat, Adam smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it, we’re all swiping.” He kissed me goodnight and I left, knowing I would not see Adam or Jeff again.
Sivan Salem is an Israeli-American UCLA alumna from Los Angeles, where she works as a wine publicist.
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