It’s been just about a year that I’ve been on a dating app. Like so many others who’s gone through this route to find a connection, or just a couple of steady dates, it’s been pretty disappointing. And I’m sure I’m not the only one.

Take, for instance, the other day. A man liked me. I read his profile. Hmm, I thought as I scanned through the pictures. He’s not bad looking. His self-description led me to believe he was funny and intelligent. We seemed to have a fair amount in common to hold an intelligent conversation. All a good indication of a match, or a hope of one.

So I texted him through the app, giving him my name and telling him a bit more about myself. We had all sorts of things to talk about. It made me smile. Him too. Said he’d like to meet me. Take me out to brunch. Sure, I answered, I’d like that. We selected a place that was the center point between our respective homes and made an actual date.

Now, I know better than to get my hopes up. I’ve been through all of this a whole bunch of times. Never adds up to anything. Still, I haven’t gone out on a date since before Thanksgiving, so it gave me something nice to look forward to.

A few days before I went, I hung out with friends. Told them about this guy and our virtual interaction. “Wait a minute,” my friend Sam said. “Let me check him out first.”

“I don’t think he’s an axe murderer,” I said, handing over my phone, the app open to reveal my date and his profile.

“Not saying he is,” Sam said. “Just let me check this out.” He slides his index finger over the profile, silently assessing it. Reads through our texts and jumps to the ones I had with Date Man on my cell.

“What do you think?” I ask, leaning over to glimpse at the cell’s screen.

“I think he’s smooth, that’s what I think.” After a last gaze, Sam hands the cell back to me. “Just keep your conversation light. No heavy stuff. Talk about yourself, but don’t go deep. Headlines, if that. Maybe steer it to things you both like – he’s a foodie like you – perfect! And you both have kids. They’re always a safe topic for discussion.”

“I suppose you’re right.” After a brief pause, taking in this important information, I meet Sam’s gaze. “Are you telling me this because you’re a man, or because you’re my friend?”

Sam wraps his arm around my shoulder. “I want you to have a second date. Maybe even three.”

Good advice. I take it into serious consideration.

Date day occurs over a weekend, at a popular homey food joint loved by the locals. I meet Date Man there, who’s already sitting at a table, looking straight ahead. I breathe an inner side of relief; he looks just like his profile photos. As I come near, he turns and smiles. Perhaps he saw me walking toward the entrance? He rises and we give each other a hug, and after a few moments, our orders are taken.

Date Man is very friendly and easy to chat with. Immediately I’m comfortable. Taking Sam’s advice, I stick to light topics, and so does he. We talk about our kids (we’re both immensely proud of them!), the incoming administration (a topic that horrifies both of us), our houses and all the work we needed to put into them (an awful lot), the towns that we live in and a few things each of us like to do in our spare time. The conversation comes easy. We both smile a lot. Before you know it, we’ve been there almost three hours. The time vanished with the wind.

“I have to go,” he said, checking his watch.

“Yes,” I said, “but thank you for a lovely brunch! I really appreciate it.” And I meant it. It was a lovely time.

We reach for our coats and continue whatever it was we were discussing. His car is parked near the entrance. He stops, turning to face me as he points to his SUV. “Here’s my car. Where’s yours?”

Mine is a short distance away and I point to it. “So, are we going to continue the conversation?” I say, perhaps a bit hopefully.

“Yes – and perhaps we can try that place in the town we both like,” he says, referring to a restaurant we wanted to go to but wasn’t open for lunch.

“Or I can come closer to you. I don’t mind. I have a car – it’s not like I have to walk!” I say, trying to make it sound like a joke.

“Yeah, why not?” Date Man says, “But we’ll figure something out.”

As soon as I get home, I send him a text, once again thanking him for the good meal and conversation, and I look forward to continuing it. He replies that he hoped I was glad I thought he looked like his photos. I said I hoped he was glad that I looked like mine, and he agreed that I did.

It seemed like all went well. Took Sam’s advice to the letter. Never brought up any baggage, or ill feelings I might still be harboring about my ex-husband, or the pain and sorrow he put me through. None of it. Kept it all light, topical, fresh. For the first time in a while, I felt happy. Smiled my way through the afternoon and beginning of the next day.

That was nearly a week ago. I’ve heard nothing since.

What is it with people? What are they looking for? What’s up with the ghosting? At least the last date I had from that app had the decency to tell me he wasn’t interested. But he was an outlier, as no one else ever has. Are we all that disposable? What ever happened to manners? I can take it if someone thinks I’m not for them. Be nice about it. Say so. And if you met someone else, that’s okay too. Just do the right thing and don’t leave someone (me) hanging, especially if you said (that’s you, Date Man et. al.) you want to meet up again. It’s fine if you change your mind.

Honestly, just man up about it. Don’t be a gutless wonder.