Horrifying Text Messages

Since I’ve abandoned the apps and begun dating dudes IRL/not for the story, I’ve stopped tending to my Tinder till. While the fuckers of August and November have slowly disappeared from my life, every few months I still find myself graced with a tacky throwback text.

From my collection of #TBTs, the most memorable comebacks are brought to you by Glenn (I don’t remember his real name. He’s literally listed in my contacts as “Glenn find out real name.”) and Young Money:

horrifying texts
NOTE:
The above text from Glenn is verbatim.

Glenn and I only went on one date. We never even kissed. I’m not saying I’d turn down his offer, but this is more of a Date IV-type proposal.

Boys: It’s not just middle school math that requires an order of operations – but life itself. Scrap the PEMDAS (Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally), and begin to win adulthood with: PFMDCA (Please Forget My Dumb Cousin Aaron), i.e. Peck Finger Mouth Dick Cum Ass. You can’t finger until you’ve pecked. Always lick before dick. And don’t even bother with the ass until you’ve made her cum. #behindthetimes #buttfirst #rumpsupporter

Priorities.

As for Young Money – here is his word-for-word, case-sensitive text (Typos included!):

“so i have something semi serious to talk to you about
a partner of mine from a couple months back told me she got tested positive for chlamydia and i got tested wednesday and they’re positive a swell
there’s a small chance u have it but i would get tested as well
because  i don’t know if u fall into the timeline”

Had I not been obsessively visiting Planned Parenthood (before my full-time conversion, when I was a broke ass contractor with crap health insurance), I would have had a heart attack. However, when I saw his words of caution I already knew my clam had no H in it, so I informed Young Money his STD woes were for the other hos. He responded gratefully with a, “Hmm ok. Thanks. This actually really helps narrow it down.”

He had 99 problems, but this bitch ain’t one. I wonder how many hours he put in to texting the other 98 suckers . . .

Since the scare, the only news I’ve heard from him has been in the form of spammy, LinkedIn e-mails updating me on his company’s new ventures. Classy.

The Ass is Always Greener on the Other Hide

Receiving such unsavory texts should enforce the idea that I’m better off in a steady-ish, unrelationship with a nice guy. But does it?

No.

Freeing myself of fuckboys has had its pros and cons. On the pros’ side: I don’t need to worry about acquiring STDs on a regular basis. I no longer need a calendar to manage my love life, and my liver is finally healing.

On the cons’ side: My life is now boring as shit. While my current getup is much more “wholesome” and something to be envied by picket fence plebs and hopeless romantics, my world went from hot-new-HBO-show (step aside, Silicon Valley) to on-season-break-about-to-be-canceled.

In fact, my life is SO boring that I’ve taken on the project of living vicariously through my friend and Bumbling for her.

In Silicon Valley, there are many hot virgin babes who somehow swerved the D all the way into their late 20s. Perhaps it’s because they took “Disregard dudes. Get dat dough.” too seriously. Or maybe the meek men of the world were too intimidated by the formidable career woman. In any case, my friend already gets paid. Now it’s time to get her laid, and Moxie – Mistress of Banter – is ready be the maid of ho-nor.

Bumble updates coming soon.

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