> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.hielasarchive.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Unmatched Matcha - URL: https://www.hielasarchive.com/unmatched-matcha/ - Published: 2026-07-21T16:04:22.000Z - Updated: 2026-07-21T16:22:06.000Z - Author: Hiela Haider **The Swipe.** In today’s world swiping has become a common daily activity. There are two dimensions to swiping: we have the vertical and the horizontal one. We engage in vertical swiping activities as we scroll through our camera rolls just to find that one specific memory or maybe as we *lowkey* stalk someone’s instagram profile. Horizontal swiping, however, is the easier of the two—we are naturally inclined to go for an intensive swipe-to-the-left-session. **The Like.** What drives a swipe to turn into a *like*? Funny that it is the same movement, but its start and end differ. Whereas the swipe to the left is a short-lived story, the swipe to the right can become anything. In its premature state, the *like* is a fragile thing. Naturally, fragile things are treated with care. **One Matcha Latte (for Two?).** Esperanza thought about how her singular existence was something she deeply adored, however, the concept of plurality did seem to make its way into her thoughts every now and then. So, in an unhinged moment, Esperanza opened the app store on her smart phone and downloaded a dating app. Just like that, more vertical and horizontal swiping activities were added to her daily routine. Her swiping activities on this dating app are carefully thought through. She even plays devil’s advocate with herself as to why she should swipe to the left or to the right. In a particular instance, in which the case of giving someone the benefit of the doubt had won, Esperanza decided to distribute a *like* to someone whom she normally wouldn’t go for. The arguments were strong on both sides. This is the very reason that has led Esperanza to this overcrowded coffee chain in the middle of the city on a Sunday afternoon. She approaches the counter to place her order. —Hi, what would you like to order?, asks the barista. —A warm matcha latte with regular milk, please, she replies. —Small or regular size?, continues the barista. (*Small or regular? I guess, I grab a regular size since I am on time and my date announced that he’d be running late*.) —A regular size, please, Esperanza confirms. Esperanza grabs her humongous cup of matcha and skims the place for a spot that seats two. She approaches the long window table and sits next to a group of university students. —Hi, sorry, can I borrow this extra chair? —No, sorry, actually are expecting someone else, replies the boy. *I do too*, Esperanza thinks to herself. Esperanza sits down and starts sipping her matcha. She looks out of the window in an attempt to spot her date. Time passes and she tries to accelerate this process by some more vertical scrolling—first on instagram, then her WhatsApp chats. It’s 5.30 pm and her date is officially 30 minutes late. Initially, Esperanza is unbothered and understanding, but by 5.45 pm and one ‘sorry, I’m looking for a parking spot’ message from her date, she is already *getting weird vibes*. Finally, her date arrives. Her first thought is *oh, he kinda looks different than on the pictures. Do I too?* Just as they are about to sit down at the window table, Esperanza spots an empty table for two. She suggests to switch to the nicer table. There are many reasons why, one of them being the fact that she feels uncomfortable that the students would eavesdrop into their conversations and figure out the nature of this date. They sit down and engage in a short round of small talk about the weekend. Esperanza notices that her date, Manuël, is uneasy so she says: —Hey, why don’t also grab something to drink? —I actually need to park my car, he says. —Have you not parked it somewhere?, Esperanza asks perplexed. —No, my car is just parked somewhere, Manuël replies. —What do you mean with somewhere?, Esperanza follows up. She is confused about her date’s irritating responses. Frankly, they seem stupid to her. *How did he just park somewhere? What does that even mean? Like in the middle of the street?*, she asks herself. So she suggests: —Maybe you should go and park your car at the next train station and we just meet again once your car is parked, how does that sound? I will just ask to grab my matcha to go. —Ok, maybe I’ll take a coffee-to-go then, Manuël suggests. —Perhaps not, since it will be cold by the time you have parked your car. **The Escape.** At this point, Esperanza is brainstorming her escape plan. She is getting weird vibes, he made her wait 45 minutes and frankly, he’s kinda dull. So he leaves to fetch his car and once again she finds herself alone at a table for two with her matcha. Worried about how the karmic love cycle might come back to bite her in the future, she consults two friends and her siblings. Her siblings suggest to wait and give this guy a shot. Esperanza agrees because she feels bad about him driving there and being all stressed about parking, but this argument is not strong enough. So, she waits for her two friends to reply. They make a strong case for an escape. Esperanza checks her phone—60 minutes wasted and a humongous cup of matcha drowned. A quick bathroom run before the escape; she does not check her messages because she has already decided the fate of this match. As she hastes out of the bathroom with great determination, she glances over to the table, where she had matcha for two, and panics as she finds her date sitting there. In a split second, she decides that the *only* way forward is the way out. So, she heads straight for the door, pretentiously keeping busy on her phone. She makes her way down the street, hoping that he wouldn’t follow her. She’s micro-sprinting in her gigantic plateau boots—odd shin soreness incoming. And her down jacket, another one in a series of wrong choices. Apologetic, but confident about her decision, Esperanza opens the dating app for some damage control. *Apologizing and letting him know that I left would be a decent thing to do*, she thinks. Just as she clicks on the chat, she finds herself unmatched. An unmatched matcha.