Swipes, Sniffies, and the Alphabet of Afterlove

A lighter chapter: on apps, anonymous hearts, and the strange joy of starting again.

The first time I opened a dating app post-separation, I just sat there.
Staring at the screen. Not tapping anything.
Not out of sadness. More like reverence.
Because I knew I wasn’t just opening an app. I was opening a portal.

To flirtation. To awkwardness. To bios written in lowercase and selfies taken in bad lighting.
To the terrifying freedom of what now?

I was scared.
Stepping into the unknown again.
And yet... there was something giddy about it.
That stupid kind of excitement you get as a kid when you’re about to do something new and slightly dangerous.
I felt like I wanted to write everything in my profile, and nothing at all.
Should I be poetic? Funny? Self-deprecating?
Should I lead with honesty or mystery?
And the pictures… Oh god. What’s the right mix?
One smile? One mirror pic? One blurry travel photo where I look cooler than I am?

I didn’t have the answers. But I downloaded the apps anyway. All of them.

---

Hinge: the earnest one.
The guy with three pictures and a quote from Bourdain.
This is where they say they want “something real.” Sometimes they mean it.

Grindr: the neon-lit bar at 2AM.
Fast, fun, maybe reckless.
Where men say “Hey” and send their location like it’s Uber Eats.

Scruff: Grindr’s slightly older, more emotionally available cousin.
Still chaotic, but he might ask about your day.

Bumble: surprisingly sweet.
Like being set up by a well-meaning friend who swears he’s not usually like this.

Sniffies…. the one I wasn’t prepared for.
A map, a moment, and a lot of skin.
And yet… one kind message from someone named “SoftDom69” made me laugh.
The bar is low. I’m aware.

Each app was its own little universe.
And each swipe felt like a tiny act of hope. Or not.

But let me be clear: this isn’t a tell-all. It’s a diary.
And for the sake of privacy, everyone I write about will be anonymized by letter.
A, B, C, D…
Some will be forgettable. Those will make you laugh.
Some unforgettable. Those might make you ache.
Some might feel a little too familiar. Uncomfortably familiar.

This chapter of The Afterlove Chronicles is lighter.
Because starting over is weird and funny and awkward and, honestly, kind of beautiful. A chance for a rebirth.

If you’ve ever tapped “Download” and wondered who you’d find, or who you’d become; I think you’ll feel at home here.

Cheers!

x