In an Uber Pool

The Lyft I called at the same time got there first.

On Tinder

I accidentally swiped left on him, and $9.99 per month to backswipe seemed too steep a price even for true love.

At a Bar

I went to the wrong bar.

At a Bar

I went to the right bar, but I got there five minutes too late.

At a Bar

Right bar, right time, but the friend I came with started flirting with a guy and I felt awkward on my own so I waited in line for the bathroom even though I didn’t really have to go because at least it was something to do, then I hid in the stall for a bit and read a pretty cool article about a whale that saved a guy’s life after he was attacked by a shark, and then went home.

Jogging in Central Park

This sounds like a nice way to meet. I have never actually done this (“this” being “jogging”) but like to think that if I had our paths would have crossed.

At a Former Co-worker’s Party

The friend I was supposed to go with bailed at the last minute, and I felt weird going on my own, even though I had already fully dressed up, so I met some friends at a bar.

The Entire Seven-Month Period I Got Back Together with My Ex, Nathan

I admit that this one was a mistake on numerous levels, and, yes, his favorite author is David Foster Wallace, and, no, he has not read “Infinite Jest,” but he really means to one day.

Playing Intramural Sports

Joined a dodgeball league when I obviously should have known that my soul mate is kickball guy. Also, I hate dodgeball.

At a Bar

I wasn’t in the mood to go out, and, besides, it’s not like I ever meet anyone at bars, so I stayed in and watched “The Princess Diaries 2” and ate a whole pizza, which in some ways is even better than meeting your soul mate.

In a Subway Car

I missed getting on the same subway car as my soul mate by mere seconds because I had held the elevator in my building for an adorable elderly woman, who would have been a little faster if she hadn’t recently broken her hip, which probably wouldn’t have happened if she had moved into an assisted-living community like her son has been asking her to do for years, but those places are “full of old people” and she is a lifelong New Yorker who refuses to have an orderly feed her cold pea soup, hell, she marched on Washington and raised three children and briefly lived in Argentina, and she’ll be damned if she spends her final days locked up like a prisoner, to which her son said, “O.K., Mom, if that’s how you really feel. I’m just worried about you,” and then of course she went and broke her hip and over the past few weeks they’d revisited the idea of assisted living and come to the conclusion that it may not be a bad choice—they’d actually gone to look at a few places that seemed rather nice—but of course none of that happened in time for me to meet my soul mate.

At the movies

I was at a bar.