The Man from Minnesota
This was the battle that played out in my head as I swiped through the photographs and analyzed the quote beneath. Three weeks later, I was on a Tinder date connecting all the Midwestern dots.
I met him on a blustery Friday for happy hour. Unlike my previous Tinder dates, I met him as well as his group of friends. For some, that could be an overwhelming situation. Talk about an unfair advantage. But in that moment, it turned out to be perfect. Sitting around the table were even more Nebraska connections, and for the first time - in a long time - I actually missed Omaha. I felt comfortable.
A few too many pineapple vodkas later (and by that I mean two...I am a cheap date) I found myself having some serious girl talk about horoscopes with my date's friends. Being the class acts these ladies are, they humored my explanation for evaluating a man's dating potential based on his astrological sign. I should have known that conversation was too juicy to stay between us girls.
He was in town for just shy of a week, but we managed to see each other three times. During one of which, he had one too many glasses of bourbon and divulged a secret. A major secret. The best kind of secret, the kind every girl dies to know. Her nickname among his group of friends.
I immediately loved it. It was the first - and only nickname - I have ever truly loved. I'll be honest, Christina doesn't give you much material to work with. Teens. Easy Blue Rhino. Little X. While I adore the people who have given me these various monikers over the years, I have never adored the names. That is, until Scopes. She changed everything.
I was the silly girl who believed in astrology, and that would be the trademark used to differentiate me from all the others. As much as I would love to say there is more to this story, there isn't. He left town, and the "ten day fade away" held true. Spring bloomed into Summer. Summer melted into Fall. Fall cooled into Winter. Winter thawed into Spring.
Here we are, one year later. I have held onto Scopes thinking she would never be anything more than just a great story. Ironically, Scopes was meant to be more than a story, she was meant to be the vehicle to tell stories. That swipe right was meant to be. Without it, SCOPES would not exist. I may never see that Tinder date again, but that is perfectly okay. We do not meet people by accident. The reason I met a Man from Minnesota is written across these pages. And, her name is SCOPES.