Too match is an ode to heartbreak in the form of a book. A diary of failed dates. A First dates that always ends badly. A series of stories for love grinches. A Madrid version of Sex and the City, but with less glamour (and less sex).
Too match is also a generational portrait, a story of love and mourning in the age of Tinder, and maybe (just maybe) it’s an excuse to keep using the app.
My ex-girlfriend chose the morning of January 6th, Three Kings Day, to break up with me. The day after, I was left without a roommate, Filomena arrived, and I joined Tinder (because if you’re going to hit rock bottom, you might as well do it right).
With or without roscón, a breakup is never a pleasant dish. Just ask Tamara Falcó, who ended up going back because she couldn’t get over it (friend, who hasn’t been Tamara at some point?).
In my case, I have to admit it was a particularly hard pill to swallow, but I also realized that, in a way, it had its charm (in a way, everything has its charm). That, and that only by hitting rock bottom do you manage to decipher that Rajoy maxim (the worse, the better for everyone). I feel you, Mariano.
Too Match is the result of that January morning and everything that came after. I can’t say it was better (nor worse) but it’s the best way I’ve found to survive countless love failures and become, if not the heroine of this story, as Nora Ephron said, at least the protagonist of my novel, as Romeo Santos would say.
