Goodbye Tinder, welcome ComeHome

I wake up with my head on the pillow of a sofa. My hair is full of salt, I try to understand what happened: oh yes… last night was tequila boom night, the night that helped me drown my heartache with A: the guy I liked a lot and who disappeared without explanation and I spent the night with my friend Trucione drinking tequila.

I get up, staggering, he sleeps on a chair- he still looks awesome. I pick up my mobile sticky with alcohol: it’s 7 o’clock in the morning, I call a taxi and I go home. Jisè, my cat, welcomes me the best way she knows, with all my socks on the floor. I feed her trying to avoid her attacking my ankles, I shower and I try to look human: at 9 I have a working breakfast, I need to look at my best. “You look like a scrambled egg” J. greets me at the reception. Failed mission. Luckily at lunch time I can relax: I’ll go for a mindfulness class with my friend from Milan CI.

I tell her about Trucione and A. but she has a solution for all my troubles: “you should sign up with ComeHome, it’s in Rome too”. “is it a dating app?” I ask her, my hand on my diaphragm. She looks at me vaguely annoyed: “it is more than that, it’s the new dating frontier, it’s a cross between Tinder and the Fork for first dates” I stop my breathing exercise and I download the app.

It works like that: you register and a you’ll see a lot of events, all organized by other users in their own homes. The events look cool too: from #FuckingParty to Casino, or Blind Dates to #PiovonoPolpette. “The number of men and women is almost equal, in order to avoid an overwhelming female presence” CI remarks, who knows all too well about all girls nights. We decide to attend a TOGA PARTY: “TOGA, TOGA, TOGA! All you need is a white sheet, some sandals and a laurel crown where you can leave conventions, duties and social constrictions behind and enter a world of sensuality, creativity and pleasure”. The party takes place in the Pisana area, a little bit far from home (you receive the address only after completing registration) and the attendees look cute; there are only 7 places left. We sign up for it. My following days are all focused on my dress code, between an Instagram story and an article to write, I order laurel crowns from Amazon; I have a pair of sandals I bought in Mykonos, all I need is a white sheet but CI will take care of that.

The host, Tarquinio (naturally) welcomes us wrapped in a sort of bathrobe he probably stole at some Spa. He is fat and short and he has a hairy hooked nose. Not a great start. We step into the room, the atmosphere is very relaxed: there are candles, a lot of grapes and bad quality wine. Luckily there are two nice dudes who look fun. I start chatting them up: “Do you often attend these parties?” I ask, pretending to be cheerful. “yes, it’s the best way to make acquaintances” says the cutest one of the two. He is quick, an interesting kind of kid but I’m also trying to involve his chum, an ugly boy full of freckles. CI reaches us with her mini sheet, I go and fetch some drinks and the ugly boy follows me. In the time it took to eat a single grape, I turn and I see CI wrapped around the good looking guy.

(to be continued)