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This summer, just two days after my divorce, I left for a 10-week solo trip through Europe, visiting 11 countries and dating in most of them. But shortly after we started arguing more, and with more intensity.
Despite counseling, neither of us was happy, so I moved back in with my family. By summer, I was feeling like myself again, but I was falling for a guy I met on Tinder.
There wasn’t much activity on Bumble, but on Tinder I met Pablo*, a biologist from northern Spain with a beard and ponytail and sexy accent.
He took me to a hidden “secret bar” for tinto verano (chilled red wine with lemon-lime soda) and vino de pasas (raisin wine) — both were surprisingly good.
I couldn’t get enough of him, and it seemed like he felt the same way.
But when he left for the summer, I asked if he’d want to keep seeing each other in the fall.
So at 26, single for the first time in my adult life, I decided to spend the summer traveling. In mid-June, I landed in Edinburgh and started swiping.
He said his internship was busy but good, and that he was enjoying Seattle.
No sign that he was thinking about me as much as I was about him.
But on Tinder, a guy named João invited me for a motorcycle ride and coffee by the beach; we had a lot in common, and being with him felt easy.
After sunset, we went back to the city and hung out on the roof of my Airbnb apartment — until we got chased off by my host, who was furious I’d brought a strange man there (oops).
We’d been texting every week or so, but this was an exciting development. In Munich, I met Maddin* (from Bumble) near the Isar River. He said he had to leave for a wedding in his hometown that evening, but that he had a few hours, and asked if I wanted to go home with him.