“Leave his texts on read, leave his balls on blue…put it on airplane mode so none of those calls come through….” – Cardi B ♥
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to playing the villain in a few boys lives. I ghost them all.
K- Are you in the mood for something sweet?
M- Wanna Netflix and chill?
C- I’d love to fuck you until sunrise.
J- Damn it, Chad… you make a girl wanna say yes… . … but I have to be up at dawn for work and I quit eating arrogant frat boys years ago.
Sidenote: if your name is Chad and you like to golf, we are not a match. This is the guy who has to repeatedly tell you everything he owns. <eyeroll> I bet you a million dollars he has a micropenis and can’t golf, either. Sorry Chad- but really… we both know who’d be changing the tire if you got a flat while we were on a date and as patient as I am- I can’t blow a man who’d let me do that.
I deleted my Tinder and put my headlamp on with a few coats of mosquito repellant. It’s in the high 40’s at night this week so I have a snowsuit on as well. The Tinder notification popped up letting me know I was paid until the 22nd and they were going to continue letting me know every three seconds that someone new liked me. I was exasperated and logged in…
I was a little shocked when I realized that I’d collected three Jason’s. They’re all a lovely shade of stunt double and I’d subconsciously combined them into one Jason. I had messages stacked up from all of them, and went through to see who was more interesting, because a couple of them had to go.
Jason #1 is funny and works hard.
Jason #2 goes to the gym and relaxes a lot.
Jason #3 looks exactly like the man I’m trying to replace.
I unmatched #2 & #3 and messaged back #1… a week and a half later to apologize for vanishing. I can’t wait until this Tinder headache is over.
Which is when Frank showed up.
I don’t want to train an old dog new tricks. Not if we’re talking about man skills. If they don’t have the basics by 30, they never will. For some women, that doesn’t matter but for me it’s everything. I need him to be able to chop wood, change his oil, carry my heavy stuff and kill all the intruders. I’d rather have a dirty skilled one than a rich pretty one, any day.
If you see red flags before you see his face, save yourself the trouble and run like hell. It’s the silver lining of internet dating. You can spare yourself a lot of really bad dates with depressingly bizarre people. If he’s crazy and off-putting before I’ve eaten stale bread with him over boring small talk? I’m going to spare myself the wasted carbs.
I’m not at all interested but I’m making an effort and that counts for something, right? I’m wading through the frightful messages and breathing through my frustration.
and canning myself a rainbow of healthy distractions for good measure.