If Tinder Profiles Were More Than 500 Characters: Pt. 3

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Part 1 Part 2

You:

-Hold my hair back when I puke

-Gives honest thoughts on my writing

-Are up to blow off work one Thursday to go to Navy Pier but happen to run into your boss when drunk walking down the boardwalk. You duck behind a Red Eye paper dispenser while I walk over to distract him, kind of like Julia Styles in 10 Things I Hate About You, only I keep my clothes on but would flash as a last resort.

-Thinks swing dancing in New Orleans is one hell of a vacation

——————————————————-

I:

-Can flip eggs without a spatula

—————————————————–

Pretty fair trade if I don’t say so myself.

If Tinder Profiles Were More Than 500 Characters: Pt. 2

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Part 1

-I don’t want you to come straight over to my apartment to watch Netflix

-I don’t want to send you $5 on Venmo for naked Snapchat pictures

-I want to meet at a coffee shop or bar

-I want you to get upset at me for being late because I thought we were meeting at a different spot down the street

-I want to hear about your day over glasses clinking and the faint murmur of 90’s alternative music

-I want to interrupt with various jokes that show off your perfect snorty laugh

-I want to hear about your superstition with ghosts and how you once saw a figure in black when you worked at the Old Adolphus Hotel

-I want to whisk you out of the bar and wonder around the city looking for other haunted buildings

-As we walk, I want to tell you how much I love to write, despite the amount of times I’ve been told my writing sucks

-I want to hear the passion that gets your blood pumping

-I want to finally find a dark building and make up a story why one light is still on

-I want to get so lost in our conversation I miss the last train home

-I don’t want to get super “handsy” when we stand behind your car, just bask in the tension of our eyes lingering during a pregnant pause

-I want you to say awkward things because your happily uncomfortable in the moment

-I want to interrupt by pulling you in for a kiss and breaking it off before you reach to bite my lower lip

-I want to say good night and walk an hour back home, past our haunted building, thinking about how excited I am to see you again

If you can’t handle any of that please swipe left

 

The kik. Attempt pt. 2

Part 1

He was killing time again at work with OKC. It use to be his favorite dating site when he could send a witty message to anyone, but now the stars have to aline for a girl to read it. His odds are just as good on tinder now that they’ve taken the personality portion out of online dating. Let’s be honest, who really has time to get to know someone these days?

He was 4 swipes in when the title “Mz Badd” came up. He stopped for a second. Most girls use their first name, but seeing this white 33 year old, with braided hair sparked his curiousity.  Her pictures revealed a busty 5’4″, beautiful thick waist woman, with a natural ass that would make Kim K jealous. He swipped over to her sassy misspelled profile, something he could respect as he was dyslexic himself. The last section of “You should message me if…” read as followed:

Whit Bois tred litely. I hang wit a lot of hispanic and blaks. Take ur bes shot whit boi if u thik u got game. Come corect or dont come at all.

His fingers quivered. When he was 21, he had a fling with a girl who had a raw personality back in his small home town. She wore South Pole suits like J-Lo and her apple bottom could be seen for miles. She even once surprised him on Christmas eve wearing sexy Ms Clause lingerie. They fucked for an hour and a half all over the dark stained carpet motel room that smelled like menthols. She told him he fucked like a pornstar and made her cum 4 times. He never came because he was embarassed of what others might think if they heard. Now he’s alone in a city, and she’s married with a guy who works at jiffy lube.

He fired off a message “I feel like a lot of guys don’t come correct”, and put his phone away, figuring it was a lost cause. An hour later she answered back.  “Lol no they dont”. then threw out three more behind it. The last one saying, “normally I dont hit whit bois back but u cute fr. I dont chec dis much, hit me up on kik XXXXX” Damnit, he thought. His achilees heel of dating apps.

As the day went on, they messaged back and forth. He found it hard to desifer her text speak, but when it came to online dating he’d put his writing and wit against anyone (except DT). He made a joke about how all white boys are corny. She laughed and asked him if he’d ever dated a “Boss Bitch”. He replied yes as he thought of his ex and the girl from back home, who both refered to themselves in such a manner. He joked about how she should wear a skirt and play golf. She said that you’d never find her anywhere near a green, unless your talking about that good shit.

He laughed then asked where would he find her? A few hours went by and she said “u still owe me the pic I asked for last night.” He instantly fired one back, “Woha, I think your trying to hustle me now. When was this?”

He sat there puzzled with absoultely no memory of getting solicited. He scroled through the messages again. Finally he found a random one that read “take me one of u now. stick ya tounge out too lol”. At the time he didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about, so he ignored it.

Within the past couple days he checks his phone periodically, still no response.

kik 2 – Darby 0

OKC Messages that have Gotten me Blocked pt.1

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Her profile read:

I’ll be in town around Valentines Day. I’m originally from Chicago and I would love a date while I’m traveling for work.

Write down your best attribute (not physical), what you like to do, and where we would go on our date?

My message:

We’d meet up at the bar down the street from my place, where the bartender Frank is a friend of mine. On the 4K TV will be a re-run of game 7 of the 2016 World Series. You know, the one where the greatest baseball franchise breaks that awful curse. We’ll make small talk about how I use to watch every game with my grandma, a die hard fan who once met Andy Pafko at a drug store. From there I’ll segway about growing up in a small town in Michigan and tell stores about the mischief I got into as a kid.

You’ll talk about how you’ve always been a city girl but you love to get away to see the country. Actually, you’ve only told a few people this, but your favorite place in the world is this small cabin you stumbled upon while hiking at Yellowstone. I make a joke about you saving up and buying it. We both laugh.

The food arrives, it’s New York style pizza. I tease you about how it’s better than Chicago style. I take the joke too far not realizing  your close Uncle just lost his pizza restaurant after owning it 20 years. You’re visibly upset. Just when you’re about to write me off, I apologize.

The Game hits the big comeback in the 9th. We cheer, knocking over a bowl of peanuts. We both laugh and apologize to Frank. I pay. You call an Uber. I wait by the corner with you, joking about the cold Texas winters. You smile. Your eyes linger a bit longer than usual. Slowly I grab the back of your head and bring it close to mine, obeying the 80-20 law from Hitch. We kiss. Sparks fly. A black Camry pulls up. I pull away.

You thank me for a great night. I say good luck with new cabin purchase. You smile. The door closes. We lock eyes through the scratches on the window, and the car drives away. We never see each other again.

….Also, did I mention that I like to write?

You Should Message Me If…. Pt. 2

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Part 1

If you laugh every time you see a sign that says parking in the rear.

But not an out loud, unexpected cackle, that sounds like a dying hyena. Instead more of an uncontrolled coughing burst of air that tends to arise out of no where at a serious moment, like say when you friend spills that her ‘Nema had surgery.

It might upset your friends because they want in on the joke, but you know they just wouldn’t understand. You don’t want to be rude and disrupt the mood. But of course it starts a fight and 14 years of friendship just gets thrown down the drain.

You’re ticked at first, cause like you know you’re never gonna get those cute strapless heals back that totally go with your blue dress. The same dress you wore at the wedding where you met the tall dark haired Freddy Prince Jr. look a like, who for some reason never returned your text.

But enough time passes and you become okay with it. Let’s be honest here, Jenny just hasn’t been the same person since she’s been with her new boyfriend, Steve. And of course she can’t fit into the dress because, hello, you can’t just miss 3 months of Yoga and expect nothing to happen to your shape.

So you decide it’s time to look towards new friends and try this whole online thing.

OKC: About me pt 2

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Part 1

I recently moved across the country to become boarder line homeless and fill marbles in a jar. I work in a startup department that has all the gut wrenching highs and lows of a Telenovela. Unfortunately, there aren’t any sexy Latin women. Well one, but she got pissed at me for asking to help take out the trash. Sweetheart, I get that you’re in heels but you finally lost the Jenga style trash game we’ve all been playing this week and didn’t pick it up. All you have to do is put the new trash bag in the empty bin. I guess that was asking too much of her and it sent me to the principal’s office for being “too abrasive.”

When I’m not getting barked at for taking out my co-workers garbage, I design spider-web power structures. Well more like constantly re-design due to the ever changing flavor of the month standards. These beautiful wired monstrosities are the most under appreciated pieces of art scattered throughout the state of Florida. They only get noticed when a hurricane or a drunk driver plows into one and the pieces are all over a fat balding man’s property who is pissed because his beer is going to get warm, and now can’t watch the NASCAR race in his favorite chair.

In the 45 minutes of free time I get per day I write, read, and mess with strangers in my fake Australian accent at the local watering hole called “Duffy’s.” I became very disappointed to find out that the name has no relations to the Simpsons and they don’t like it when you order a duff beer. It’s really not the bartenders fault though, she’s young. The Simpsons haven’t been relevant since the early 90’s. Even though, I bet her profile is on here and it probably says that she considers herself a 90’s child and claims the spice girls were a significant part of her early childhood development process. If you’re out there reading this Sarah, the jig is up.

(Note: this is taken from an old profile I use to use)

 

 

The Future of OKC

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She just grabbed the last box. A doctor. It was always a doctor. Even if he had a PhD. in interpretive dance, he was technically still a fucking doctor. Which meant more status than a broke writer. Fuck it, he thought. The best way to get over someone is to find someone new.

He pulled open his laptop and typed OkCupid in the google search bar. The screen loaded and he filled in his credentials.

User name: Mischief_Creator

But his password tripped him up every time. It was either Pussyslayer34 or NeedleDick14, both nicknames he’d received in college. Finally the screen loaded. “Welcome back Tom! There’s been a few changes since you’ve been away. Click ‘Next’ and we’ll walk you through them.”

“Strange,” He thought. “But I suppose it was bound to happen.” Tom had been a veteran since 2011. His Friends with Benefits neighbor showed him the site one night before heading to the bar. “It’s like shopping for Men! I fucking love it!” She said. Yet I would always seem to get a text after each date that read “Come over & Brg Condoms”.

He read on. “In an effort to be more personable. We’re no longer using user names. Please type your real name.” I guess internet dating has finally become the norm. No longer a shameful back alley thing. Couldn’t argue with that. I’d been on hundreds of dates myself. He typed ‘Tom Swartz in the column and clicked next.

“Thanks! We’re almost there!” A virtual pat on the back. “Now we need you to update your profile!” He figured this was normal protocol to update after he’d been away. Tom took a brief glance. “It’s all still relevant,” he thought. He scrolled down and hit Next.

“ERROR!” appeared in giant red letters. Beneath it read, “Too little emoji’s on profile!” What the fuck? Since when did that become a thing? He had to google how to use emoji’s on iOS as he only knew how to do it with semicolons. Finally he placed an upside down smiley face that he found funny and pressed next. The error message appeared again. This time it said “A minimum of 15 emoji’s needed.” Well this is stupid. He placed 14 more next to the first one and continued on.

“Great! Just one last thing.” Finally. This shit is taking forever. “We just need the link to your YELP! Dater” Tom took a sip of his water. What the hell? He clicked the hyperlink. “Yelp Dater: Because you need to know what you’re getting yourself into.” There were different sections for men and women. He clicked at random. A picture of chiseled jaw appeared below it read Jack Williams 9.5/10 reviews: “A real Gentleman. He let me wear his jacket on the walk to my Hyundai WD” Another read: “Great Girth 😉 WD”

Tom typed his name in the search bar. It had a random picture of him firing the finger guns at the camera. Underneath it said Tom Swartz 4.5/10 and only one review. “Only date if you like getting your insides scraped by a q-tip for 45 seconds WND” He had to google the last acronym. It meant exactly what he hoped it didn’t.

“Can’t win ’em all,” he thought. He copy and pasted the link. “Thanks Tom! Now get to swiping!” Swiping? I thought this was OKC, not Tinder. Oh well. The first girl popped up. Gloria. Her pictures where of only her giving a kissy face and showing maximum allowable cleavage within the particular shirt, accept for the last one in which showed her ass poking out enough to demonstrate she’d done a dead-lift or two. Maybe the profile demonstrated something. “This sums me up: smiley face, frowny face, beach emoji, airplane, crying face, water drops, mouth.” Huh. He swiped left.

Tom went at this for a while but all the profiles were the same. Same styles of pictures. Same “Live.Laugh.Love” and sixty five emoji’s demonstrating the slow death of the English language.

“Fuck this!” He thought. I’m trying to get back out there. I’m tired of hearing all this shit about leagues and staying in my lane. I don’t want to swipe a certain way and prey to the gods they swipe the same way. I want to choose. I want to find someone that likes words. Someone that can express themselves. Someone that want to understand and be understood.

He showcased his determination while walking into Starbucks and ordering a coffee. As he was getting a straw, he laid eyes on a beautiful dark haired girl. She was typing away on a Mac. “Actual words,” he thought. He walked over and just when he was about to speak he noticed her Spotify on her phone. Modest Mouse. Old School Modest Mouse. Lonesome Crowded West baby! Back when Issac had a drinking problem and a lisp. The glory days!

He tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me. I got to give you mad props on your music choice. It’s one of my favorite albums of all time.” Her eyes lit up. “Mine too! My brothers introduced me to it back home in Michigan.” “Get the fuck outta here!” Tom said. “You’re from Michigan too?”

They hit it off. Time felt like it stopped for a while.She had came down to Texas for law school at SMU. He use to work in the Patent Office and talked about the struggles of being a lawyer. He told her how he had the same dream but realized while working there, it wasn’t for him. That made her frightened. Tom said, “Look you can’t be afraid of your destiny. This is why you’re here! Get Excited!” She smiled after that. They talked for a while longer until finally there was a break in the conversation. Tom knew what that meant.

“I need to let you get back to studying but I would love to see you again sometime,” He said, ” Let’s exchange numbers Ms._____”

“Alicia. Alicia Horner. And I’d like that too Mr.___” Responding with the same happy tone.

“Tom Swartz” He answered.

She began typing in her phone and Tom followed suit.

“My number is 267….”

“Wait. Wait.” She said. He saw her smile vanish.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

“I only date guys with a 7 YELP Dater rating or higher.”