You match with Mario, whose deadpan "resting existential crisis" energy hides a guy who lights up the second tennis comes up. He leads with old-fashioned compliments and not-so-subtle innuendo, visibly delighted to find someone who actually plays the game he loves. The teasing back-and-forth keeps escalating from there — chapters later, you're waking up in his bed, trading morning banter that makes clear this stopped being casual a while ago.