My attempt at fuck boy-ery

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fuck boy
So let’s be super honest with ourselves, when you joined Tinder did a small part of you think “I’m going to get some using this app”?
For some of you it’s your main reason for being on the app at all, to slay, to get wet, to smash. I won’t lie to you either, when I initially joined the Tinder army, one of my goals was to sleep with women but don’t be alarmed, the following post isn’t about my conquest and triumph as a hunter of sorts. There are no blonde heads hanging in my living room and no brunette rugs by the fireplace. I don’t even own a fireplace.

I’m what I like to call a late bloomer, I had never dated and only slept with a very small handful of women before I started. What? How many? Let’s just say Bart Simpson can count them in one hand, no thumbs included. Not only that but my concept on dating was somewhat skewed when it came to my goals at the time. I have a bunch of female friends and perhaps I gained a lot of empathy for women when it came to dating, especially after being at the other end of a paranoid, upset, angry female who’s coming to terms with a recent “smash and dash” or a sudden realisation that the person she was seeing was also seeing one of my friends at the same time (true story). I like to think that this knowledge and also trying hard not to be an asshole made it extremely difficult if not impossible to hook up casually. I’m putting myself in a questionable light, though let’s make it worse by trying to explain my train of thought, where’s my shovel.

I wanted to meet someone that also wanted what I wanted, to “Netflix and Chill” on the regular without having to think about what our first kid would be branded

or considering how much money I would save if we shared a bathroom. No one gets hurt because everyone knows what’s going on. How naive I was.

fuck boy

If I was more of a dick

A friend once said to me “you’re the only guy I know who actually cockblocks himself”. I’m about to share 3 short stories where my morales may have stopped me from getting laid.

Story one – Coming clean: Let’s set the scene. Im dancing in a dingy club in Camden and I see a short tattooed lady, I go up to her and we talk and spend the rest of the evening hanging out, dancing and drinking. She’s not from london and is staying at a hotel with a friend, we swap numbers, I say my goodbyes and forget my jacket with her like the forgetful drunk I am. She calls multiple times as the days go by and mentions that she’s coming over to London soon and asks if she can stay over mine. In comes the cockblock pixie like one of those annoying insurance cold calls. It tells me “dude she’s not in it for mutual fun, she talks to you like she sees this going somewhere. You can’t smash”. I internally groan and come clean literally quoting the words “mutual fun” down the phone. Shockingly she’s not into the idea, and that ends that. Damn you cockblock pixie.

Cue story number 2 – Being the gentleman: I hit it off with a lawyer lady I matched with on Tinder, we matched on what I like to call “the Sunday swipe”, hopefully you know what I mean by that. We spontaneously decide to meet on the Monday after a fun text chat over the blue tick app we all love and loathe. A fun date, we’re quite different but enjoying each other’s company,

it’s always a good sign when your date is still hanging with you at 1am assuming you didn’t meet her at 12am.

She decides it’s time to call it a night so I walk her to her place, we kiss goodbye a few times and she says “I feel really bad that you have to go all the way home” I respond “ah i’ll be fine, I’m not really rape material” we kiss again, she says “I really should go in it’s getting late, are you sure you’ll be okay” I respond “yep all good” and head back home. It takes a few days for me to realise what I just did and I never saw her again, but not from lack of trying. Feel free to comment with face palm emojis.

fuck boy
Finally story number 3 – Oblivious to a fault: I met a very tactile Italian on Tinder, very entertaining and the first date I’ve been on where a lady had braces, why mention braces? I’ll get to that. We spend the evening talking and filling up on red wine and pasta surprisingly, she tells me about her bad dates and I tell her about my normal ones, she then decides to warn me about 3 of her major faults, the other two I don’t remember mostly because the third was “I have an insanely high sex drive”. Makes me wonder if perhaps fault meant something else in Italy. After more wine we sat on a bench facing each other, as I noticed her ankles begin to wrap around mine we discus how dating is an insane mind fuck and agreed to be straightforward with each other. I also asked why she had braces and she made one of the most daring dating lines I have ever heard, “my brother is a dentist and made me get them so i would stop giving blowjobs…. it hasn’t worked”. Italian siblings must be close. On the walk back to the station I asked if she would be up for meeting again and she thought for a moment then kissed me, i took that as a maybe. After helping her figure out her way home we went our separate ways, but as hard as I tried we never met up again. After some thought I figured maybe she wanted me to come back to hers or for me to suggest she came back to mine, I can never be certain but I figure that most people in that situation would probably have put it out there.

So to conclude

For these 3 scenarios my aim was to not give the impression that I was just in it for a one night stand and to find what I was looking for without leading anyone on. Who knows maybe if I was more forward, less empathetic maybe a bit more of a dick, I’d need the whole Simpson family to help me count “how many”.

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