"Nightbird95, Courvoisierlover is checking you out right now!"
Blaine sighed as he perused the lasted automated alert from the dating app that Sam had cajoled him into joining three months ago. At the time, Sam had insisted there was a study out that proved if you don't use "it", you lose it, and Sam was just concerned about his best friend. Blaine decided he would probably be ok, but, tired of being alone, he downloaded the app anyway.
By now, he had gone on several unsuccessful dates, and was getting more and more discouraged with each passing attempted connection. These included such luminaries as the guy who brought his mother to join them at the mini-golf course, or the gentleman who announced shortly after meeting Blaine that he had an "Asian fetish," looked at Blaine critically, and pronounced, "I suppose you'll do."
In desperation, Blaine even asked Santana to review his profile, hoping for some constructive criticism. Her feedback pretty much boiled down to: "You wrote way too much about your schmaltzy interests and crap. No one cares about what goes on inside a pretty head. Entice the boys with some nice ass photos. I'm sure Tina would be happy to take them for you." Blaine mentally noted never to ask Santana for dating tips again.
Blaine doubted that "Courvoisierlover" would be the one to restore his faith in online dating, but as he appraised his suitor's profile photo, Blaine couldn't pretend that his body, at least, was really hopeful that this man just might be.
"Hey Killer," the message read. "U look like a heartbreaker. Up 4 a good time tonight ;) ?"
Blaine groaned. A hookup. Signing off from the dating app, he resolved not to look at the app again for a little while. Maybe this online thing wasn't for him after all.
He expected that to be the end of it, and was surprised to find a message waiting in his app inbox a week later.
"I'm sorry. I realize my last message came off too strong. I'm really bad at this. My name is Sebastian. I've been reading your profile and I'm really impressed by your passion and thoughtfulness. I'm looking for something long term, and I guess I'm just really hoping that you are too."
Blaine sat back and stared at his phone screen, impressed. He always did have a soft spot for people who tried to atone for their missteps.
"Hi Sebastian. I'm Blaine," he began typing. "I really appreciate your candor..."
It wasn't long before they moved from messaging through the app to regular texts, and soon from long back-and-forth texts to talking on the phone for hours. They discussed everything, from music and entertainment to politics and current events, to food, travel and family. They often disagreed. But Blaine found that their differences only invigorated their conversations. In so many ways that mattered, he felt that Sebastian understood him, that Sebastian understood what it's like to hide behind a mask; what it's like to feel like love must be earned and can be withdrawn; what it's like to self-destruct and leave a trail of devastation in your wake; what it's like to look in a mirror and see only your imperfections staring back at you; what it's like to want to push yourself to be better, to be more; what it's like to want to do anything and everything for the ones you love.
That Sebastian could also make him laugh and blush and inspire him to do things he never thought he'd do, well, that was even better.
After a few weeks, Blaine finally gathered the courage to ask the other man out.
"I thought you'd never ask." Came the reply. "Literally."
They decided to officially meet for the first time at Blaine's favorite French restaurant Friday night, the one Sebastian had been meaning to try but hadn't gotten around to. Blaine employed every trick imaginable to persuade the maƮtre d' to book them at a secluded table the corner, and if things went well, Blaine had tickets to a screening of an old French thriller.
When Friday finally arrived, Blaine was antsy with anticipation. He arrived early, as he was his tendency, so he tried to distract himself by looking at photos of cute puppies on his cell phone. This worked a little too well, and Blaine failed to hear the footsteps of expensive, Italian-made shoes approaching from behind him. A warm hand on his shoulder pulled him back to reality.
"Hey, Killer."
Blaine turned around, and before he could even register the several beats that his heart skipped when hazel eyes finally met green, Sebastian suddenly blurted out,
"Well fuck me. You really are this gorgeous."
To Blaine's surprise, Sebastian flushed, ever so slightly, because his evident attempt at a suave and cool first impression was so thoroughly undone. Blaine couldn't help but bark out a laugh. Relief coursed through him, that the man he had built up in his head for so long bore more than a passing resemblance to the real-life person now standing before him.
Blaine threw his arms around Sebastian in a tight hug. "It's so nice to finally meet you," he murmured, breathing in the deep woodsy scent of Sebastian's cologne.
The squeeze he felt from Sebastian assured him that the other man felt likewise.
In future retellings of this story, particularly to their kids, Blaine and Sebastian tended to omit the juicier details of the evening that followed. Like the fact that they never did make it to the post-dinner screening, because the two men completely lost track of time after spending their night playing footsie under their small table, of going from sidesplitting laughter to intimate whispers and back again, and of just generally being nauseating. That they ended their night pressed up against a tree in the town park, making out beneath the light of a full moon. That they were woken by a police officer at dawn the next morning, tangled together and disheveled but still (mostly) clothed.
But Blaine and Sebastian do proudly describe what happened the very next day, on what was technically their second date. Because it was then that Blaine and Sebastian pulled out their phones, and together, deleted their dating app accounts. They never needed them again.
