Did that cute guy from the gym suddenly stop responding to your texts? Your latest Tinder match never showed up to your first date? The clearest explanation for the sudden, inexplicable disappearance of our crushes is that they died. No — they didn't really die, but for your purposes, they are no longer living with us on this earth. Here, some obituaries to honor those with whom I exchanged brief, sometimes perfunctory flirtations.
Ben, guy from Tinder, approx. 1985–Jan. 9, 2014. He looked tall in pictures and had an affinity for posing with small animals. He claimed to have some kind of job with organic farmers in Brooklyn and preferred his old Bed-Stuy neighborhood to his new place in Greenpoint. He had roommates. He loved French existential plays and youth theatre. He is survived by a sister and brother-in-law, and possibly parents.
Sam, guy from work, 1986–August 2013. He loved his piano and stacking pretentious books on top it, with the exception of a few Kant books he left on his coffee table so they could not be missed. He never quite perfected the art of the booty-call text, but gave it his best effort on a bimonthly basis. He is survived by a sister and parents in Texas and some friends who were assumed to like him.
Mike, guy from kickball, 1984–December 2013. He wore inappropriate shoes once to kickball. He loved to play flip cup after every game and was OK at it while mostly sober. Based on his frequent use of the N train, he lived in either downtown Manhattan or Astoria. He most likely worked in finance. He is survived by one or two siblings and parents somewhere in Virginia and a championship-winning kickball team.
Tom (or Tim?), UWS Trader Joe's cashier, circa 1981–2014. He was average height and always wore a TJ's employee shirt over another shirt. He was constantly working on improving his skills, whether by attending many acting auditions, or gathering cooking tips by asking what certain customers planned to make with the pizza dough and tomato sauce in their basket. He loved Lincoln Center's production of War Horse. He is survived by a produce manager with whom he once checked the price of sweet potatoes.
John Doe, 1 train rider, years lived also unknown. He enjoyed wearing seasonably appropriate professional attire to wait for the downtown 1 train every morning around 9 a.m. He frequently carried and glanced at the New York Times business section. When the platform was crowded, he let women enter the subway car first, made firm eye contact, and smiled. It is believed he had an occupation tied to the incessant use of a BlackBerry. He is survived by his fellow 1 train passengers, his NYT delivery man, and BlackBerry email recipients.
Jonah, 95% match on OkC, 1987–March 2014. He wore a beard and climbed rocks in pictures. He made time to watch True Detective in between the increasing demands of his postgraduate work in history at Columbia University. He wasn't surprised by Matthew McConaughey's recent career resurgence, as he believed in the quality of all of McConaughey's filmography, even The Wedding Planner. He kept physically fit by practicing yoga in the winter and running in Central Park in the summer. He once mentioned that he liked bagels. He is survived by his two roommates and their shared cat.
Eric, former co-intern, 1985–June 2012. He wore slightly faded, striped Gap button-downs, jeans, and boat shoes. He was known among the interns for his quick, witty comments in email chains, lamenting the office kitchen clean-up assignments and Duane Reade errand runs. He was highly skilled at finding funny dog GIFs. His time in the office was cut dramatically short when it was revealed he had intentions of attending graduate school. Investigation of his social media accounts indicate he is survived by a long-term girlfriend with whom he shared an apartment on the Upper East Side.
Drew, CEO, 1982–April 2013. Known for perfecting the male model, Brooklyn hipster, bicycle rider, small-business owner look. He was often seen wearing a watch made by his hip wristwear company when he passed tenants in the shared office hallway. His office furniture reflected his clean, modern lifestyle. An unverified source speculated that he enjoyed walks in Central Park with women. He is survived by his male friends only, as his female friends found no reason to continue living without his beautiful face.
Alex, friend of a friend, 1988–February 2014. He vaguely resembled Evan Peters from American Horror Story. He employed one strategy for hitting on women, the neg, and liked pointing out women's excessive heights or shrill voices in bars on the Lower East Side. The unexplained absence of his cell phone never deterred him from asking for a woman's phone number, instead only making him work harder to find a pen and napkin on which she could write. No friends or family have claimed him.
Scott, Hinge match, 1985–January 2014. He listed his height as 6'4" and photographed himself eating foods that required chopsticks. After graduating from Yale, he began a career in television production. He sometimes attended Broadway shows and was able to catch The Book of Mormon the week after it won the Tony. He also enjoyed taking SoulCycle classes and going to baseball games at Yankee Stadium. His busy work schedule often made it impossible for him to follow through with social obligations. He is survived by his French bulldog, who is named Tom Selleck.