Since downloading the apps in my early twenties, I’ve been fascinated by the perils of online dating. As a savvy swiper myself, there is always the risk of meeting someone who, at best, looks nothing like their profile pictures, and at worst, is a murderer intent on making me his next victim. With my sophomore novel, A Small Affair, a story that begins with the line ‘We met on an app,’ I wanted to delve into my deepest fears around dating.
My protagonist, Vera, swipes right on Tom, an older, richer divorcé. He’s hot, liberal, and a fan of Nicole Kidman, all green flags in Vera’s book. They go on a few dates, she loses interest in him, and they go their separate ways. Until Tom commits an unspeakable act.
Shortly before writing A Small Affair, I watched the documentary An American Murder: The Family Next Door, which details how husband Chris Watts ruthlessly killed his wife and children in part to be with his (oblivious) mistress. After the film finished, I turned to my friend and exclaimed: ‘I have to write a book from the mistress’s point of view!’ I couldn’t help but wonder how agonizing it would feel to start seeing someone, only to suddenly become embroiled in their filicidal transgressions. How would you cope? Would there be survivor’s guilt? Would you ever be able to trust your instinct well enough to date again?
I’ve become somewhat of a seasoned dater. As a twenty-nine-year-old living in New York City, I genuinely enjoy being single and meeting new people. Even though four out of five times there is no connection, I always have fun. I relish in the performance of dating; there’s something so intoxicating about showing the most ideal, sparkliest version of yourself to a stranger. You’ll never get that chance again with the same person. Not to mention that, as a psychological suspense writer, continually asking people for their life stories is a good muscle to exercise!
Most important, I am incredibly discerning about whom I go out with. Almost all of my dates are through the apps, but I like to say that I have a ‘sixth sense’ for sniffing out creeps, and for the most part, that’s true. I’ve dated more than most people I know, but I’ve never really gone on a bad date. Boring? For sure. No chemistry? Definitely. But as of writing this, I’ve been very lucky. No one I’ve gone out with has been overtly creepy toward me and when I’ve had to reject people, they are always respectful. And most of the guys I’ve dated for longer periods of time are fundamentally decent human beings, even if the relationships didn’t pan out. I realize that this is not the norm for the majority of heterosexual women.
All of this is to say that I wanted to flip my positive experience on its head, while also exploring the conventions of forming romantic relationships. What obstacles do couples go through before they meet? What secrets could your partner be keeping from you about their past? What is the ultimate dealbreaker? And why are some personality quirks red flags for one individual, but green flags for another? Vera initially likes Tom because he is successful and attractive while also possessing an air of reticence. But, as Vera and readers learn, that diffidence is actually a carefully constructed mask. Tom’s wife also uncovers this façade, but only after years of marriage to him.
Which raises the question: can you ever really know the person ordering a second drink, whom you’re sitting across from in a dimly lit bar? The optimist in me, the one who wants to believe in my sixth sense says, yes! But the thriller writer in me has other ideas.
Flora Collins was born and raised in New York City and has never left, except for a four-year stint at Vassar College. When she’s not writing, she can be found watching reality shows that were canceled after one season or attempting to eat soft-serve ice cream in bed (sometimes simultaneously). Nanny Dearest was her first novel.
