Swiper Alley by Adam Kluger

Magoolie had rules about who to swipe left on.

Cat lovers [swipe left] (allergic).Any woman looking for “generosity”(aka a sugar daddy) [swipe left] …any swipers demanding men of a certain height (at least 5’ 10”!) [swipe left].

Swipers that included photos of themselves with their past lovers —but with the face of the other person in the photo blacked out – turning them into a non-entity. I loved you once. Now I am cancelling you out with a circle on your face. [swipe left]
Magoolie swiped left on anyone outside of NYC or still living in Thailand or still looking to get married.[swipe left] Been there. Done that.

He also passed on any woman with an angry face or crazy eyes resembling a dinosaur or pit-bull,  or whose profile started off with a negative attitude toward the male of the species— (“not into immature man-babies, men who are scammers,  no ONS (One night stands) or FWB (friends with benefits) or ENM (ethically non-monogamous) only LTR (long-term relationships) and NO MAGA!!! [swipe left]

Most of the swipers wrote that they were looking for their “last first date” and they all seemed to be into yoga or pilates (whatever the heck that was),

“How do you like my jogging outfit?”

“It’s cool … looks like you are a cast-member from Lost in Space—that 60’s TV show.”

“Don’t remember that one”Two small iced coffees and a gingerbread snowman later.

“You’re not emotionally over your ex. I need someone who is more emotionally available and by the way here’s some advice, none of these dates you are going on want to hear about your exes.”

They agreed to get coffee as “friends” in the future.“Maybe we could introduce each other to other people”

Magoolie agreed but after saying goodbye he figured that would be the last time he ever saw her again. She had really cool hair. Like a bouffant.

Magoolie was still thinking about HER.

The one who had been his girl for a number of good years until she wasn’t anymore.

It happened suddenly.

He had embarrassed HER somehow in front of her girlfriends at a work event. The subject of Halloween came up and he asked the assembled women, “why was the witch late for the party? Because she was too busy riding her broom.” Stunned silence at the women’s empowerment event.

She let him have it good on the street after and then the next morning she called from her well appointed apartment and said, “that’s it. It’s over… Ripping the band-aid.”

And she told Magoolie not to text her funny gifs or memes.

Flowers didn’t work.

Long apology texts didn’t work.

She had already moved on mentally and had made that decision months earlier and there was nothing Magoolie could do. He had been on double-secret probation without knowing it.

He kept flashing back to the way he loved to touch and kiss her and hold her at night and make her moan and relax and laugh and he could not believe it was all over.

Really over.

He had bought tickets to see DEVO and the B-52s at Jones Beach for them some months prior, and so, after their silly fight, he texted HER to ask if she still wanted to go to the concert w him…hoping she would say yes.

Crickets.

She wanted a clean break.

Her friends had probably encouraged her to find someone more suitable, more liquid, with wanderlust to travel the world instead of the messy, needy, immature, hard-working, paycheck to paycheck schlub that Magoolie always was and always would be.

He would try to hold her hands in the beginning of their courtship and it was never a perfect fit.

She had the hands of a fighter. A heroic mom. And his hands were not as calloused.

She was way tougher than Magoolie despite her beauty.

She was a doer.

A problem solver and Magoolie was just another problem. But he felt that they could heal each other and he still believed it even as he scoured the bumblebee dating app for a possible last minute date to take to the concert instead of HER.

Finally, he found someone he had texted with from 5 years prior who somehow miraculously expressed interest in going to the concert w Magoolie on short notice, after all of his guy friends were busy or uninterested.

To make it all work Magoolie had called his cynical artist pal Manfred Gogol to beg a ride to Jones Beach. Gogol who spent most of his life driving various gorgeous women wherever they wanted to go, whenever, reluctantly agreed.

But when the night of the concert arrived Gogol came up with a super-lame last minute excuse and Magoolie and his old/new swiper friend, who was really only interested in going to see the B-52s and DEVO —were completely fucked… one hour before the opening act (Lene Lovich of “My Lucky Number’s One” fame) was set to hit the stage.

Rather than call the night off – the swiper insisted they try to get to the venue. That was a bad decision.

They took a subway to Grand Central and then made their way to the LIRR tracks that were completely redone with enormous escalators that took 10 minutes to ascend and go down

—they were lost and they missed their train and then another train and the information booth person was unhelpful and by the time they made it to the Jones Beach train station a couple of hours later the buses to the Jones Beach Amphitheater were no longer in operation.

Magoolie and his extremely pissed off swiper flagged a gypsy cab driver who spoke no english and had another passenger. They drove around all parts of the area at night—lost for the most part despite GOS. Using Google translate to ask the driver questions in Spanish. “Dude! Where the fuck are we?? …No bueno!”

The swiper now truly hated Magoolie and when they finally got to the venue – the security guard was incredulous,” hey folks where are you going?”

“We just got here from New York City”

“You gotta be kidding me— this is the last song… feel bad for you… let me see your tickets.”

Magoolie showed his phone and the security guard let them in to watch DEVO perform “Freedom of Choice” while encouraging the remaining few fans, sprinkled through the Jones Beach Amphitheater to “remember to vote!”

The anger suddenly enveloped Magoolie.

He now understood very clearly how OJ Simpson could go from being a beloved celebrity to viciously murdering his ex-wife, allegedly.

Magoolie started punching and stabbing Gogol in the face over and over. He could hear Gogol screaming and see the blood spurting all over.

“You fucking selfish asshole mother-fcker. I hate you so much I’m going to stab you in the face —you asshole!!!”

This is the phrase and vision that kept rolling around his head over and over.

The combination of frustration, heartbreak, humiliation and murderous rage washed over Magoolie in waves as he gritted his teeth imagining he was stabbing and killing his old friend.

The missed concert and the entire misadventure was a new low point in Magoolie’s life full of many other failures and disappointments. He now realized that he was neither noble nor a good person, really. He was a murderer. Or at least he had that violent killer nature inside him. Buried deep. But it was there.

And after he cooled down and finally made it back to NYC—$500 lighter in his depleted bank account because there were no buses still running, only very expensive taxis, he felt defeated and ashamed. A complete and total loser.

The Swiper was not happy either. She was pissed off— is what she was. She hated this loser named Magoolie but at least she didn’t seem to want to murder him. She just wanted to forget the night and Magoolie —forever.

It was now a month since the break-up maybe more and Magoolie still felt broken.

As he cleaned his crowded studio apartment he saw the white plastic orb with LED lights. He had purchased it on whim at a convenience store near HER apartment. To surprise and please HER. That’s all Magoolie ever wanted to do. He was given back the orb with HER thanks— but no thanks.

When he brought it back to his apartment, it was a throbbing white sphere of red, blue and green lights.

It added something. somehow.
It had been unplugged for a while and Magoolie wondered if the now plugged-in and pulsating sphere the size of a grapefruit would send out vibes in the chilly NYC air that would now cross the city to HER place and alert HER somehow to his desperate need to hold her again very close and kiss her and make her laugh before he would invite HER to partake in some friskiness.
They had had something very special. He could not believe it was all suddenly and abruptly and unexpectedly and perhaps irrevocably over and finished.

What seemed so easy and comfortable was no more.

Of course he was to blame.

Of course it was him.

Of course she had every right to right the ship and throw him overboard.

And that’s exactly what she did.

He was left with a raft made of refuse and a bag of his old clothes on an angry ocean to navigate to some safe harbor or get swallowed up into oblivion.

That’s when he re-activated his long dormant dating apps like tinderhooks and bumblebee- and got back into swiper-alley.

Then he also looked back at the notes section of his iphone where he wrote down in a drunken rage what he really wanted to tell Gogol that night:

notes:
Dont call me ever again
You puece of dcking shit i want ti tak wknife and stab in face yoyr fackinf piece of shit assholw swlfish fuck facw asshile fuck you
.Duxk you you fuxjing puex eod shit  …

Uncle Ernie was a mongoloid and it determined what he could see.

i wwnt a double gimz and tonic no wait i ll get whatever this os called— a hollow mule —that’s what this night has been— a fucking hollow mule —stuck in the lirr railroad bar to get a train to a bus to see devo and the b52s

Exposed completely as a person unable to drive a car, own a car or get to a concert on Long Island on his own— using public transportation. A real loser.

“So wait a minute —how ling ago dis you buy yhtse tkts —-and how long have you been broken up “

“Give me back my man i’ll give you fish I’ll give you candy …

Magoolie looked at his jumbled notes from one of the worst nights of his life and sighed. He had lost his shit completely but at least Gogol had apologized and they were still friends. Gogol even dipped into his trust fund to reimburse Magoolie the 500 clams he lost on his Rock Lobster debacle.

So, Magoolie had missed out on seeing the B-52s and DEVO on a one-time only double bill but he was missing much more than just seeing two of his favorite bands.

He missed HER.

Some asshole was blasting his car horn outside the window now because he was undoubtedly blocked into a parking space nearby —

“Ok asshole,” someone yelled.

The horn noise stopped.

The anger. It was always there under the surface.

Magoolie shook his head and prepared to meet a stranger later that night for dinner.

Adam Kluger

Image by Felix Mittermeier from Pixabay – Black mobile phone laying on its back with a blank screen. Other images* – long escalator, ornament made of coloured lights forming flowers in red blue and gree and a band of two men one playing guitar and one singing into a mike with the heads of an audience in the foreground. Other Images* are from the author.