I wanted to see him, and found myself wishing and hoping he would text me while I was at work. So, I said fuck it, I took control of my life and texted him. I figured, I don’t want to date this guy, I just want to fuck him. So what’s the worst that could happen…
Bicycle Bob liked me on Bumble first and I hemmed and hawed about his profile for a while. I couldn’t tell if he was cute or not. Eventually I swiped right, reluctantly, and messaged him.
He ate dinner while we were there, but I was still too full from my late lunch to eat anything, and I kind of felt like an idiot. I am so not that girl. I eat anything and everything, but I thought we were just grabbing drinks. He ordered this huge bbq sandwich and absolutely killed it. It was both impressive and absolutely disgusting.
Something new I experienced that night was HAIR PULLING. I liked it. It wasn’t painful, a little aggressive but non-threatening. It was hot. He was hot. He thought I was hot, which made him hotter.
I was getting really tired of Tinder and hadn’t been on Bumble a whole lot and was seriously considering deleting both of them and giving it a rest for a while, then as if on cosmic que I got a Tinder match notification quickly followed by a message.