Carrie – Mondays are already the worst. Having been in the workforce for about three solid months at this point, I am qualified to say this right? Well to make matters worse, it was a rainy Monday when my friend bailed on me and an eight month long mind-fukboi and I had finally broke it off earlier that weekend. Needless to say, I was reeling in a pile of self-pity when my sister and her best friend from high school were having a girls’ night at the apartment.
Now my sister is significantly older than me but living with her has worked out so far since we’re in a similar phase of our lives for the first time. We’re both twenty somethings, both working, both single, both like drinking and socializing and I am slowly becoming as liberal minded as she is when it comes to sex and men. She was not partial to Tinder so it took a while to convince her, but with a little booze and a sisterly prodding, I challenged her to get a new app that my friend had suggested called Bumble. Being somewhat competitive in nature, my sister and I began swiping, trying to match with the same people. Only problem is that her 40 year old prospects are way beyond my age scope and she is opposed to being a cougar to the likes of my early 20s dating pool.
Now on Tinder, I am used to a results-based approach, swiping and instantaneously matching (mainly because of how seldom I swipe and the fact that I’m not a robot offering sex for money). However, having just set up Bumble, I was frustrated to not have any matches for the first hour. I went on a rampage, giving myself a finger cramp as I swiped through hundreds of prospects on my screen. Imagine my shock when I woke up the next morning to over 100+ expiring connections.
Some of the guys were cute but one in particular caught my eye. I started with a Friends reference (his name may or may not have been one of the leading characters) and he called me out on being unoriginal. I did not respond because he seemed like a dick and I had 99+ suitable options otherwise.
I am a softie though. Throughout that night, he messaged me multiple times after and the fact that he was only three km away was quite appealing compared to some of my other matches in Oakville. (Go Train? No thanks.) Eventually I gave him my number because persistence in my mind equates to “you love me” which I often delude myself into thinking “since you love me already and we’re strangers, you won’t be an asshole later down the line.” Like I said, my curse is being a hopeless romantic.
He originally had asked me for drinks but seeing an opening after I finished my sports at 8 pm, he asked me to come over after my intramurals. I was like “yolo” having just started a new full-time job and wanting to celebrate with someone. I went over to the location of his nice waterfront apartment, sitting near the fountain in the foyer thinking, “this has potential.”
Then he came down to let me in and I think my face looked discernibly confused when he greeted me. Not only did he have a higher voice than me, but I would later discover that he also tragically has a lisp. I smiled politely thinking “dear God.” He led me into his dirty room in the apartment, where we sat on his bed with ripped bedsheets and tried to ignore the smell of old gym socks. (At one point, I had to pee and the toilet cover was another sight indeed…)
But as a hopeless romantic, I ignored the signs of “you and this guy are SO NOT compatible” and we chatted. He was cute enough with long, curly flow which I complimented and he said, “yeah, ever thince (since) I’ve grown it out, the ladieth (ladies) are really into it.”
And the night proceeded to be overshadowed by how cocky he was.
“I could be an actor if I wanted.”
“I know that I’m pretty good-looking.”
The best yet:
“I don’t understand why girls don’t talk to me on these apps.”
Admittedly, I fell for his next line when he told me, “I just moved here and the th-ity (city) can be lonely thometimes (sometimes).” I think it’s because I empathized and was looking for companionship in Toronto more than anything. Next thing I know, we’re making out and he reaches for my pants. I stop him but as a giver, I offer him something in return. Approximately a minute and a half later, I hear a squealed “op – I’m gonna–” and he finishes. I was not impressed and definitely made it clear I was not.
We hung out for a bit after but he told me he would only give me a ‘smooch’ on the cheek, “because, you know” and then points to his own private part. Okay, asshole alert. He invites me to sleepover, I say no but it’s getting late and leave with him walking me to the elevator.
Wish I could say “and we lived happily ever after” but I never hear from him again… and I’m fairly sure I would recognize his voice.