The Not So Divine and Barely Hilarious Comedy That’s My Social Life

I’d come to terms with being single at thirty. It wasn’t the shame it used to be. I had a job and a home, which is good in this economy. I could have a boyfriend if I wanted. Every day was a chance to go out and meet someone. It’s the part about leaving the house that’s the problem. Why would I ever want to?

Yes, I worked from home. The nearest thing to a date I’d had in months was the Zoom meeting where my coworker, Samir, looked like he was winking at me, but it was just some grit in his eye. His blushing apology was sweet. He keeps his camera off now.

It’s in this de facto state of blessed solitude that I met Dante.

<Bongiorno, Nisha. I, Dante, will lead you to relationship paradise.>

My sister registered me for the dating app Inferno. Dante would help me navigate modern dating, a Doug-eat-Doug hellscape designed to test my sanity.

<You are midway along the road of your life…>

“Ouch.” This Dante guy’s got some nerve.

<Let’s find a soul to match yours… for eternity.>

“I’ve got my Squishmallows and my… snacks.” I regretted saying it as soon as it came out of my mouth. I felt Dante’s search engines smirking. Had I lived so long in relationship limbo that I preferred seclusion to everything else?

“Fine, I’ll put on a bra.”

I followed the coordinates Dante provided. At the end of this journey, I’d either find love or get my money back.

Our first stop was “Hellion Club.”

<Abandon all hope…>

“Of finding the man of my dreams,” I said, entering through its ornate gates.

Dante, or my sister, must have thought I was into strange kinks. The outer circle had men glued to their cellphones while their dates tried to catch their attention with conversation and cleavage. As I passed, a woman was dragged away only to be replaced by someone new.

“Dante, am I the only one finding this problematic?”

<Look for someone who finds you more enchanting than their devices.>

“That really should be a given on a first date.”

The next circle that Dante led me through featured men and women sitting behind large video screens. The video images were stock footage of smiling, attractive people, and those trapped behind were writhing in agony as the meal progressed.

“What is this, Dante?”

<Catfishes. Their image takes their own life to feed it.>

I shuddered in my tracksuit and moved on.

The next circle was a carnival. Music blared from overhead speakers. There were rows of midway games festooned with oversized novelty stuffed animals. The scent of cotton candy surrounded me. I crushed popcorn and peanut shells underfoot hoping I could get a bag myself.

Open circular tents beckoned couples to enter.

“Now, this looks fun,” I said.

“Who were you speaking to?” asked an attractive man near me.

“Dante, my app,” I answered. I tried to move, but he grabbed my arm.

“Is this what you’re wearing? I laid out a perfect outfit.” The man steered me toward an open tent. “I ordered both of us lobster ravioli. Now try not to get drunk this time.”

“Dante, what’s happening?” I asked as I wrenched myself away from the monster.

<Be mindful of your surroundings.>

How had I missed the red flags circling each tent? I ran towards the exit, blind to the other horrors within each circle I passed. My heart did not stop racing until I reached the comfort of my bedroom.

<Why did you leave? There is more to learn!>

Sorry, Dante, but I preferred the purgatory of solitude to whatever dating hell awaited me out there. I erased Inferno from my phone.

At the next work meeting, Samir’s camera was on. Before we started, I nodded to him, and he nodded back. Perhaps next week, I’d try smiling.