My latest Tinder meet-up could have been something out of a Netflix rom-com based on a solo traveler hooking up with a local online, all set in dreamy Hawaii.
Instead, I was blindsided by a brutal dumping in paradise.
I’d only been on Hawaii’s Big Island for 48 hours when I matched with Jerry*, a handsome, edgy 30-something American with floppy short brown hair. A tatt-free surfer Tommy Lee-type of guy, I thought.
We met in downtown Kailua-Kona, and I was instantly charmed by his drawl and friendly manner. The conversation flowed, and we quickly discerned that we had similar tastes in music, ways of travel, and a shared love for working the glutes.
Wanting to continue our date, we decided to grab lunch. I told him I was having a Miley Cyrus moment and had hired a hot red Mustang convertible to have my own ‘Party in the USA’, and he laughed. Secretly I hoped he transferred that elation onto me.
For the first time in my life, I had street cred and was excited to show off my flashy set of wheels to a guy.
I drove us to the unassuming local institution Da Poke Shack on his recommendation. It was my first introduction to the Hawaiian staple. Nice – a man who knows the way to my stomach and has a damn good food suggestion.
While feasting on poké, I told Jerry my hit list of what I wanted to do and see. There was much to discover on Hawaii’s largest island, bountiful with dramatic scenery. There’s hiking along its trails and clambering to the rare green sand beach, Papakōlea. Night swimming with manta rays. Slowly strolling down (and up) the country’s steepest and gnarliest street, Waipo Valley Road. Stepping foot into a crater at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park…
“Hold on,” Jerry said. “Let’s start with the easiest and closest activity on the list and take it from there.”
For our first adventure, we opted to hike the Makāula’ O’oma trail near my home base in Kailua Kona. Like many of Hawaii’s trails, it was naturally shaded by lush jungle, yet that didn’t do much to cool us down. After pumping the leg muscles, the beach called, and we soon headed to La’Aloa Bay Beach – known locally as Magic Sands for its shifting seashore – to wash off the sweat.
It certainly lived up to its moniker. Sunset flirts in magic dirt; the date couldn’t get any better. We watched the sky morph into swirls of cotton candy pinks and purple, with soaring palm trees slowly turning into silhouettes. We both admitted we had a great time and agreed to catch up again to cross off another adventure on the list. Perhaps one far-flung?
Two days later, we met at my accommodation, but I could already tell something was off. Chirpy Jerry – where was he? Clearly, something was on his mind as he seemed standoffish and short. Not present.
I tried to decipher what was up and hoped to turn that frown upside down. After all, we were about to go on an almost three-hour road trip to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, a park with two of the world’s most active volcanoes.
“Are you sure you want to come?” I asked.
If he wasn’t feeling it, I wouldn’t force it.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll snap out of it,” he said.
Ah, famous last words.
I didn’t expect his demeanor to return to friendly, talkative Jerry immediately. I tried to lighten the mood and engage in conversation but barely got a whimper. What have I got myself into?
He opened his mouth after what felt like a millennium. He asked to make a coffee stop, and I eagerly said yes. I hoped caffeine would perk him up two-fold.
We were more than halfway to the volcanoes but unfortunately, Jerry did not bounce back to his previously perceived eager self.
After another millennium of killjoys, we finally arrived at our fiery destination. I was pumped; I was ready to hike. I was …
“I’m going to work out my own way back,” Jerry said suddenly.
I was floored.
“What? We just arrived!” I said, confused. “We drove three hours to get here.”
“Yeah, I’m going to hitchhike my way back into town.”
He grabbed his rucksack, and off he went, walking out of the car park, walking out of my life. My mouth became as big as a volcanic crater watching him go off into the distance. I was stunned. I eventually spewed out the words, “What just happened?” to myself.
Emotions started pouring out. Did I just get ditched at a volcano?
I was hitting depression in Earth’s depression. Was being in my company that insufferable? I was shocked. Never has a guy walked out on me – let alone at a volcano! Now that’s a first.
It took a few moments to gather my thoughts. Talk about brutal dumping. Sure, I felt sh–ty for a bit, but I soon realized it was for the best. It wasn’t about me; it was on him. I was glad that he discharged himself. Good riddance.
My afternoon was proof that solitude is bliss. I spent the rest of the day exploring the park, pumping up my stereo, and reclaiming my feel-good mood. Ain’t nobody going to ruin my ‘Party in the USA’.
*Name has been changed.