Tinder updates:
I think I've actually broken Tinder.
I matched with someone.
They messaged me.
And then five seconds later I got a message from a previous match (who had ignored me until just then) saying he was jealous I was texting his friend and not him.
How is Los Angeles THAT SMALL that I am talking to two friends who are literally sitting next to each other wanting to challenge me to a karaoke battle?
That's it.
All over.
I beat the game.
The latest eyebrow-raising form of employment - "Orgasm Meditation" specialist. (I swiped left). I mean they clearly understand their market but I'm curious to see who actually says "Hey, I matched with this dude, and it turns out he's in fact not interested but trying to sell me something - that's cool... OH. AT least I can have sex-ed advice from a complete stranger! YASSSSS."
Real Life updates:
Two more magicians with their sneaky magician tricks. Luckily they only gave their business card to my darling glamorous wing-woman. But seriously I don't like these dastardly performers. That man made me put down my chips and salsa. If he was truly magical he would have sensed how salt deprived I am.
Another ten minutes of my life talking to someone (not even my type) who ultimately was married and wasn't wearing a ring. Think my Facebook vetting is creepy? It's an absolute necessity at this point. Yes yes. We all want to network and have connections in this town. But I'm not wearing this once-in-a-blue-moon self-described "vinyl" lipstick for referrals.
This was after five minutes of internal embarrassment this morning, having texted someone who - also upon Facebook review - looks very happily engaged. Seriously guys, you should have to wear a sign, or a special ring. Or maybe, just don't be nice to me and give me false hope. Be a stony glare. An impass. Literally: no eye contact. Or else my dizzy little heart will run away with it.
Back to having NO HOPE. Spinster level cat lady.
I think I've actually broken Tinder.
I matched with someone.
They messaged me.
And then five seconds later I got a message from a previous match (who had ignored me until just then) saying he was jealous I was texting his friend and not him.
How is Los Angeles THAT SMALL that I am talking to two friends who are literally sitting next to each other wanting to challenge me to a karaoke battle?
That's it.
All over.
I beat the game.
The latest eyebrow-raising form of employment - "Orgasm Meditation" specialist. (I swiped left). I mean they clearly understand their market but I'm curious to see who actually says "Hey, I matched with this dude, and it turns out he's in fact not interested but trying to sell me something - that's cool... OH. AT least I can have sex-ed advice from a complete stranger! YASSSSS."
Real Life updates:
Two more magicians with their sneaky magician tricks. Luckily they only gave their business card to my darling glamorous wing-woman. But seriously I don't like these dastardly performers. That man made me put down my chips and salsa. If he was truly magical he would have sensed how salt deprived I am.
Another ten minutes of my life talking to someone (not even my type) who ultimately was married and wasn't wearing a ring. Think my Facebook vetting is creepy? It's an absolute necessity at this point. Yes yes. We all want to network and have connections in this town. But I'm not wearing this once-in-a-blue-moon self-described "vinyl" lipstick for referrals.
This was after five minutes of internal embarrassment this morning, having texted someone who - also upon Facebook review - looks very happily engaged. Seriously guys, you should have to wear a sign, or a special ring. Or maybe, just don't be nice to me and give me false hope. Be a stony glare. An impass. Literally: no eye contact. Or else my dizzy little heart will run away with it.
Back to having NO HOPE. Spinster level cat lady.
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