Was supposed to hookup with tinder match
last night but she was a noshow. Classic. I had already done the whole pre-game ritual, too. The tactical shower, the strategic spritz of cologne that says "I put in effort but I'm not trying too hard," and the mental pep talk where I convince myself I'm not a complete goblin. I even cleaned my apartment, which for me just means shoving a week's worth of dishes into the cupboards and kicking the pile of clothes under my bed. I was ready. I was a goddamn sexual warrior.She was supposed to be here at 9. At 8:45, she texts, "Running a few mins late, be there soon!" Cool. No big deal. I pour myself a whiskey to set the mood. 9:15 rolls around. Nothing. 9:30. I'm starting to feel a little pathetic, standing in my clean-ish living room, nursing a drink like some jilted lover in a black-and-white movie. I check my phone. Maybe my service is bad? Nope. Five bars. Maybe the app is broken? I open it. Her profile is still there, mocking me with her cheerful smile and her bio that says "Loves spontaneous adventures and good vibes."
At 9:45, I'm done. The whiskey is gone, and so is my will to live. I'm about to call it a night, put on my sweatpants, and fire up some quality, ethically-sourced pornography when a notification pops up. It's her. My heart does a little pathetic flutter. "OMG so so so sorry! Something crazy came up and I can't make it! Rain check?"
I stare at that text. Something crazy came up. What could it be? Did her dog learn how to drive and get stranded on the freeway? Did she get abducted by aliens who were particularly interested in her "good vibes"? I type out a response. "No worries, hope everything is okay." Then I sit there, waiting for the explanation. The grand tale of the emergency that kept her from experiencing this.
It never comes. Instead, I get a follow-up text ten minutes later. "Hey, you should check out my new OnlyFans page! Link is in my bio! Would mean a lot!"
I'm not shitting you. She stood me up for a sales pitch. I went from potential hookup to a goddamn lead in her multi-level marketing scheme of loneliness. I almost had to respect the hustle. Almost.
So I did what any self-respecting man would do in that situation. I subscribed. It was the principle of the thing. I had to see if the content was worth the emotional betrayal. It was... fine. It was fine. But as I was sitting there, twenty dollars poorer, and scrolling through her "spontaneous adventures," I got another notification. A new Tinder match. A new profile. A new hopeful smile.
And just like that, the cycle begins anew. I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I'm just a really good customer.