Cupid Tinder Match: Hometown Hoax Heel
Reporting live from the murder scene of your dating hopes and dreams
I swear to fucking Christ.
Hinge is a dating app that tells people where you live and where you’re from. Do you get that? Does that make sense? Does that seem super fucking hard and ridiculously complicated to you?
This guy messages me and says, “Hello neighbor, very pretty smile.”
I check his profile. It says not only does he live in my tiny hometown of Ojai, CA, but that he’s FROM Ojai, and that he’s about my age. Hmmm.
He doesn’t look familiar, his pics are meh, his answer to the question “the best way to ask me out is by” is “being direct” which is fucking groan worthy, turn off, not what a man would say, because a man would ask you out instead, but I match with him because I want to know who this dude is who is about my age and says he’s from my hometown.
So I message back, “Thank you! You’re from Ojai, too?”
Him: Yes I am
Me: Did you go to Nordhoff? (My high school. THE high school in town)
Him: No I’ve only lived in Ojai about 10 years
Me: So you’re not from Ojai then. Ok. I was born there so I’m very FROM there.
Is this the game you’re playing? Telling people you’re “from” Ojai? Obviously, Niki. What THE actual hell?
Him: So you’ve lived in Ojai your entire life
You wanna play this game? Why does this feel like a dig or a challenge? Because I’m already irritated and pissed off? You picked a turf war with the wrong energy healing hippie tycoon.
Me: Most of it, yes. I went to UCSB, then moved to Phoenix for about 7 years, and live in Ventura now.
Like it says in MY profile.
Him: Wow smart kids go to UCSB
Him: Maybe we can plan something on a cooler day like a hike or you up for that
Me: Oh I don’t hike. My knees are very against that
Him: Then maybe a drink
Me: Much more my speed
Him: Do you know Harvest next to the park
First of all, did we not just establish that I am a fucking native of this land? Then YES, OF COURSE I FUCKING DO. Fucking Christ all goddamn mighty. It’s a small fucking town. I know of everything, motherfucker.
Second, did you miss the part where I said I live in Ventura now? Or do you just not care? Because most guys don’t fucking care. “Oh, you live 30 minutes away? Nice. So here’s a place five minutes from my front door that’s super convenient for ME, can you make that work?”
You’re actually supposed to make this easier for ME, not you, but hey, who’s counting? Oh yeah, me.
Real easy way to KEEP weeding guys out, real easy way to KEEP getting exhausted at all this fucking bullshittery and want to throw in the towel at all of it and call it a fucking day.
Like, this isn’t fun. Isn’t dating supposed to be fun? Aren’t I supposed to be excited at the idea of meeting someone new? Aren’t I supposed to be excited at this invitation? Not utterly fucking exasperated beyond comprehension and saying yes because it’s a fucking numbers game?
I’m trying to remember the last time I was excited to go on a date… yeah, that was probably with my ex. I’ve been single for ten months. What’s another ten years?
God, why can’t I be desperate and pathetic enough to just latch on to the nearest semi-warm, half-breathing thing like everyone else?
Why must I insist on dating someone I’m physically, mentally and emotionally attracted to? Why God, WHY?! Why must I have such impossibly, nigh, unreachable standards?!
It’s a full moon. I’m tired. And PMSing.
Fuck it, I’m not settling. I want what I want. Bite me. #bagofdicks
If you liked this you might also enjoy these reads!