As quickly as I finish them, I am posting chapters of my new novel When Ivy Met Adam: A second chance, forced proximity, sexy, queer love-triangle romance. Your feedback is everything. Please post comments here or email me. I’ll be so excited to hear what you think.

Read earlier chapters here:
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

Chapter 4 - Ivy 

present day

“I think it’s time for you to try Bumble again,” my sister says to me on FaceTime. We try to speak weekly. The thousand (literal) miles between us don’t feel as vast when I can see her smiling face.

“Oh, yeah, right. Because it’s worked so well for you?” I snark.

“Hey, I meet quality men on Bumble,” she retorts. Quality men she dates for a month or two then moves on to the next quality men… 

“It just seems like now that your career is settled, you love your job, it’s time for you to meet someone.”

“You sound like Mom.”

“If I sounded like Mom, I’d say it’s time for you to meet a nice young man.” My sister tells the truth, as always. After a pause, she says, “Too harsh?”

“No. Too true.” I sigh. There isn’t much either of us can say about that. Our mother is, in many ways, very loving and sometimes even fun to be around. But her bones-deep homophobia is hurtful. 

“Anyway,” she draws out the syllables—in her honey sweet expression and her unspoken way, I know it’s her way of apologizing for picking at an old wound while not giving up on her original point—I think you should give the apps another chance. The algorithms are just itching to find you a quality date. I can feel it.”

*

I’ve installed and removed this particular app countless times. My friend Nico met his wife on Bumble—he was so good at using it to navigate the single women of Boulder that my sister and I had him teach us a class. We all hopped on Zoom one night—my sister and Nico from their respective homes in the town we all grew up in, me from my downtown LA apartment. Iris and I have since adopted his three-question system.

As Nico explained it, you might never need to resort to the three questions—maybe you and your potential date have enough interesting things to say to each other that you don’t need these. Or maybe your texting needs a bit of a boost—keep these in your back pocket for such an occasion. 

If your dating app conversation is stifled, try these three questions. You can give your prospect a heads-up, “I have three questions for you…” or you can sneak them into conversation. 

Coffee or tea? This will tell you many things about your potential date. Coffee and tea are things most adults have strong feelings about.

Maybe, like me, my Bumble date obsesses over coffee but also has great self-loathing because of it. Too neurotic, move on.

Maybe, like my sister, my Bumble date is passionate about tea —can wax poetic for hours, knows the precise brewing times and temps for each kind of tea in her “tea library”, corrects you if you call oolong black tea—and is proud of it. Too precious, move on.

Maybe, like a sane person with great taste, my Bumble date loves coffee for both the caffeine and the ritual, loves the daily interaction with their barista, savors the feel of the warm mug, the heat of the steam, the rush of the first sip. Perfect, schedule a date immediately. 

What’s your favorite constellation? This is a trick question, according to Nico. It’s a test of how intellectually curious your dating prospect is. In my on-again-off-again online dating experience, I’ve gotten reactions as varied as, “I’m not sure I have a favorite constellation, but Jupiter’s moons should be visible with the naked eye this weekend. Want to go stargazing?” and “I guess I never look at the stars. I don’t know any constellations.” The first is a near-perfect answer if it comes with sincerity and not with creepiness. (Sadly, when I got that particular answer, it came with a strong vibe of “let’s drive off somewhere dark so I can molest and-slash-or murder you,” so I blocked him.) The second is a near-perfect answer for eliminating this Bumble prospect. You will have absolutely nothing in common with this person. Move on. 

Who’s your favorite Beatle? Iris and I balked at this question when Nico taught it to us. 

“Nico, I don’t know if I have a favorite Beatle,” my sister argued. 

“It’s not a question about the Beatles, girls. It’s a question about music and passion.” 

Nico’s argument was that this question will help you determine if you and your potential date have any musical compatibility (and therefore, any compatibility) at all. 

What’s most fascinating to me about Nico’s three question system is how seldom Bumble matches ask questions (these, or really any!) back to me. I’ve used the three questions more than a dozen times and only a handful of people have asked me these questions back. To be honest, if they don’t ask back, I usually take it as a sign that they’re just not that into me and so I move on. If they do ask them back, I have to moderate my Beatles answer.

Because I used to hate The Beatles. I know, that’s probably sacrilege. 

Hear me out. I adore George Harrison—his Ravi Shankar collaborations made me feel like I’d been born in the wrong era and on the wrong continent when I was in high school. 

Ringo Starr as the Conductor on Shining Time Station delighted me as a child. 

“Imagine” is, to this day, the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. 

However, I never understood the appeal of the band. Despite (or perhaps because of) my parents undying devotion to The Beatles, the Mop Tops did nothing for me. At least, they did nothing for me until Ali made me a mixtape. Beatles For Girls Who Hate Beatles. Songs like “Blackbird”, “Rocky Racoon”, “Dear Prudence” taught me to love the Fab Four—and my college girlfriend—just a little bit more. 

That, of course, is basically the worst answer you can give to this question in any get-to-know-you situation. And an answer far too complicated to say to a Bumble match in particular. So I usually just say George is my favorite. It’s a good indicator that I’m a fan of the underdog. Which is true. 

*

Armed with my conversation starters, I start swiping this fine morning. On my third or fourth swipe, I get a match! 

Oh, Bumble app designers, thank you for the match. How lovely is the interrupting animation. How bouncy and full of hope. It’s a match! 

Adam is hot. I read his profile before I swipe—yes, people, we actually read what you write on dating apps!—and it mentions he is pansexual. I don’t swipe right because he is pan. But I don’t swipe left because he is, either. (It also mentions he’s a physician and, I mean, I didn’t swipe for that reason either, right?) Besides, my bisexuality is a huge part of my identity. Who am I to judge?  

On Bumble, girls go first. After a match is made, it’s up to the female to initiate conversation. (This is true when girls seek girls as well. Girls still go first. Not confusing at all.) So I type, “Great smile! Good morning.” Positive, upbeat. Noncommittal. True.

There’s more to it than his great smile, though. His photos are steamy—he’s built like a swimmer, all abs peaking out from under a t-shirt with broad shoulders and defined arms. That hint of a deep V of muscle pointing down into his shorts. Very hot. Well, hi there, Adam.