I Matched With My A/C Repairman on Tinder

Of course we had sex.

A few weeks ago, I was about to give up on Tinder. The ratio of “hmm, maybe” to “omg gross” is much lower on Tinder than FEELD, and whenever I do match with someone promising, they tend to disappear. (I’m looking at you, Scotsman who ghosted me after I’d booked us a hotel. YES I AM STILL VERY MAD.)

Then I got a new “like” that piqued my interest. He was cute, yeah, but what I couldn’t get over was that he looked eerily familiar. I sent his photo to a couple of local friends asking if they recognized him. “That guy DOES look familiar!” one said, but she couldn’t place him, either.

Fuck it. I “liked” him back so that I could send him a message.

“For some reason you look SO familiar to me. And no that’s not a line, I promise,” I wrote.

Within minutes, he replied. “You too but then I remembered. I’ve fixed your A/C. Keith Simpson.¹ How are you?”

OMG, I died. We — my husband and I — had a series of A/C issues over the summer and he’d been in my house multiple times. He’d been in my bedroom multiple times. He was probably wondering what the fuck I was doing on Tinder.

I replied: “Omg hahahahaha, yes you did! Well, I’m getting a divorce.”

Everything about my past encounters with this guy came flooding back. When he came to repair my A/C, I most definitely thought he was hot. I think I even texted some friends that he was hot. (And probably did this the entire time.) I have a clear memory of him showing up once while I was in workout gear and fretting over the fact that I was unkempt.

As it turns out, he also thought I was cute. He’s since told me that he went out for a drink with a friend after working at my house and told the friend about that “the homeowner was hot.” (Also, yes, the reason my friend recognized him is because he’d done work at her house, too.)

How would I feel about sleeping with my HVAC guy? Was this a very good idea, or a very bad idea? I settled on good idea, because I’d already met him in person and knew there was chemistry. Plus, if things went south, I could always find another A/C repairman, right? Also — not that I’m a big fan of porn, but how could I give up the opportunity to act one out in real life?! As a friend wrote:

So, okay. We decided to meet up. I was traveling when we first started chatting, so our date was ten days into the future, which is a long-ass time to text before a first date. (My divorced friends and I have recently decided that the ideal pre-meet-up text/sext duration is less than a week, for all sorts of reasons.)

We texted, and sexted, and texted some more, and then ….. ten days later, as scheduled, he rang my doorbell. Yes, he was actually picking me up for our date, which I found charming but also made me wonder if I was back in 10th grade. Hilariously, he showed up at the exact same time as my Amazon delivery person, who was delivering the bra I had been hoping to wear that night (oh well!), so when I answered the door, I was greeted by my hot A/C repairman carrying four packages. There are worse things.

Thank you, generative A.I.

I took the packages. He gave me a hug. It was weird. I’d warned him in advance that I wanted to be the one to make the first move, and that I wanted to have dinner before anything happened. Which, honestly, was hard because after all that sexting, I kind of just wanted to lead him straight to my bedroom. But he obliged and took me out to dinner at one of his favorite restaurants. I can’t say we had a ton to talk about, but every so often he’d look at me nervously and giggle and his sexy grey eyes would crinkle at the corners, and I’d be like Oh yes I want this man.

After dinner, he drove us back to my house. I remember that he was driving so slowly and I was losing my mind, but it was also adorable. He seemed rather comfortable in his masculinity for an HVAC guy (I know, I know; I’m stereotyping).

Back at my house, we came in and he started looking at my cookbooks. Yes, my cookbooks. Wtf, but also, swoon.

“May I kiss you?” I interrupted. Fuck Ottolenghi! I wanted sex.

“No,” he said, and then he smiled, leaned over and kissed me, hard.

Then, yes, I took him To the Bed.

Damn, he was a good kisser. He had a really sexy tattoo on his left arm. He smelled divine — a subtle musk, maybe an aftershave but it wasn’t too much. He was just the right balance of tender and rough, confident and humble. (I’d told him about my body and what I like via text, and that always seems to pay off. Highly recommend!) He slept over, and we had great morning sex, too.

That was a few weeks ago, but the meet-ups are ongoing. Sometimes he pops by for “coffee” at 8am. Sometimes it’s an evening thing. I’m still working on getting him to show up in his toolbelt, and I have a whole fantasy involving the basement hot water heater that we haven’t yet had time for, but we’ll get there, I’m sure. Then it’ll really feel like porn. And maybe I won’t mind.

1. Names will always be changed!