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  I’ll admit, when your profile popped up on my screen, I hesitated for a second. The age filter on my app was set to a pretty standard range for a forty-two-year-old guy, but I’d occasionally widen it out of pure curiosity, not really expecting much. Then there you were.

Twenty-two. Exactly two decades younger than me.

But as I scrolled through your photos, I couldn't bring myself to swipe left. You were stunning—slim and toned, with this gorgeous cascade of long, wavy blonde and caramel hair framing your face. Half your pictures were at the gym, glowing in matching workout sets that left no doubt about how dedicated you are to fitness and health. Then the next few slides showed a completely different, vibrant side of your life: hands in the air at packed concerts, neon lights blurring behind you at clubs, just living up your youth. On your left arm, a few tattoos peeked out, adding a perfect touch of edge to an otherwise bright smile.

You looked like a breath of fresh air, but you also looked like someone who knew exactly what she wanted. Under your bio, it simply said you were looking for an older, more mature man.

I took a chance and swiped right. The screen instantly lit up, flashing that bold, satisfying word: MATCH.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth as I stared at the chat window. I’m not usually one to play games, and looking at a girl as captivating as you, I wasn't about to waste any time or let the match go cold. I tapped out a message, leaning back against my couch as I hit send.

"Well, hey there. I have to admit, I didn't think a gorgeous girl like you would be looking for a guy with a little gray in his beard, but I'm definitely glad you swiped right. I'm Jensen. How's your night going?"*