5trawberry5hampoo

[5trawberry5hampoo]

scrub & rinse: tinder and flames

As an eighteen-year-old, the most pressing thing on my mind is, of course, a boyfriend. I’ve never been good at romance. I’ve been reading romance novels and watching romcoms since before I can remember, but I get stuck when it comes to actually flirting with someone.

And, like many other romantically desperate late teens, I downloaded Tinder. And Hinge. And Bumble. The whole nine yards. And if you’re wondering, the situationship I mentioned from last time didn’t pan out. At all. We weren’t a situationship and that became even more apparent when he said he didn’t think we were “romantically compatible.” I’m not bitter about it at all, if you couldn’t tell. Since I’ve moved on from that romantic prospect, I’ve turned to the bitter wasteland that is Tinder in the Midwest.

It's bleak. Last week, the second image on a guy’s profile was Donald Trump post-assassination attempt. Yikes! The guy I’ve been trying to talk to currently, who I will be referring to as Felon, is certainly interesting. Our first and only in person interaction was him coming to my job to buy a pair of shoes that we didn’t have. Felon was cuter than his profile and incredibly kind. He had my number because I gave it to him to use my employee discount, and then I realized that might’ve been a bad idea. He asked about my hobbies, which was standard for first time talking to a pretty “girl” from Tinder. And he was extremely relieved when he found out I wasn’t in high school. Did I mention he’s 23? A fully grown, adult man, liking an eighteen-year-old on Tinder and not seeing anything wrong with that, except for that they might be in high school. Yeah, sure, whatever. And then I went to bed because this morning I had to wake up at six-thirty in the morning. I’m on that college grind, or whatever.

He had sent me six messages while I was asleep. SIX! The last thing I had sent was about how I thought “big and meaty and smelly” was hot. My fault for leading him into what he was about to send. He said he wanted to throw me around. Throw me around? It’s not like my life is a weird, bodice-ripper romance novel. And, not to embarrass myself online or anything, but I’ve never had sex. I’m not the type of person to drop everything to go get “thrown around” at twelve in the morning. He also told me he needed good luck because he had court. I’m sorry? Court?? I bet the wheels are turning on this guy’s fake name for a lot of you. When I woke up (yes at six-thirty) I apologized for going to bed and he responded three hours later with “my lawyer got me off Scott free in 20 minutes.” I can’t help but wonder if he knows that he spelled scot-free wrong. It’s not like I’m the grammar police or anything, this journal is no doubt littered with grammar errors, but still.

Though, after he said that his lawyer got him off raised more questions for me. When I asked him why he was in court, his answer was someone was mad he stole their girl. This was something that had come up earlier, as if it were something that came up frequently. Stealing people’s girls, that is. I don’t think he goes to court frequently. I hope he doesn’t go to court frequently. Then he drops that he was there for felony assault! Felony! Assault! The nickname has to be making sense now. But it was cleared for self-defense, so that makes it all better, right? As someone who was at least kind of interested in this guy, I immediately was worried. As a virgin and a hopeless romantic, a man that wants to throw me around and has almost had a felony assault charge is not my ideal type. I want a boyfriend, not a fuck buddy. I had to change my Tinder relationship preference to “long-term open to short” rather than the opposite, “short-term open to long.” Because I’m stupid and inexperienced, in my mind short-term meant a few dates, maybe a few kisses, and then seeing where that goes. Apparently, to everyone else, short-term means sex.

I wasn’t aware that Tinder was used widely as a hookup app until I saw a TikTok, around three months after my 18th birthday, of a girl recounting her own inexperience with that idea, and how one of her dates had to let her know. I also sort of found out on my own after multiple messages of “I want you to reread the first three words.” Which, by the way, is the worst fucking pickup line of all time. I’m not exaggerating. If you use that on me, I will not respond. It makes you seem like a dick. The most constant Tinder guy in my life is someone who I’ll call Rave Guy. This name is because I saw him at a rave, thought he was super cute, and then saw him on Tinder after. Which was, personally, the awesomest thing that’s ever happened to me. We’ve been on three dates (over the course of five months) and have kissed twice. Rave Guy is probably the nicest guy I’ve met on Tinder, and I’m honestly fumbling him? I might have to get on this.

Another wasteland, though perhaps not as desolate, is Hinge. I don’t like Hinge as much because it’s focused on finding people to actually connect with. Which, I guess is the whole point of a dating app, but Tinder is almost like gambling. With Hinge, I have to actually think about it. Sending a Hinge like feels like being a beggar on the street, but in lieu of money, I’m asking for love. I realize that I might be describing a prostitution service. C’est la vie! I did match with a guy on Hinge, and we supposedly had a class together. I got to this class, excited to see this guy in person, and he didn’t show up. I wonder if he thinks I’m not interested. I did leave him on read a few times, but in my defense the last message was a smiley face. How am I supposed to respond to a smiley face, like, seriously?

I don’t really have any Bumble stories because something on my account got locked and I did not feel like fixing it, so I deleted it. Oops! Dating in the Midwest as a queer teenager is definitely hard. I feel like a solid third of the guys on Tinder are homophobic, and another third are uggos (sorry), and then the decent third? All guys who don’t text back. I’m sure that, eventually, I’ll find someone. Right now, though, I just am not sure that “someone” is in the cards for me.

This has been Scrub & Rinse, thank you for reading! Yours, Ajax

[5trawberry5hampoo]

scrub & rinse: the dilemma of situationships

It’s 11:30 and I can’t sleep and I’m thinking of the most hated word of the 2020s: situationship. There’s no doubt that if you use TikTok most of the day (like me), or if you have a friend that’s always having “boy problems,” that you haven’t heard this word.

It’s a fickle one, too. Situationship is defined by Urban Dictionary as “let’s just chill, have sex, and be confused on the fact that we are not together but have official emotions for each other.” That sounds god-awful. And, I guess I’m writing this because I’ve stumbled into a situationship myself. Kind of. We’ve never had sex. I don’t know if that’s a defining character of a situationship, but he lives about 500 miles away from me in Iowa of all places. Do people in Iowa even have sex? I guess that’s for me to find out, hopefully, eventually. It’s barely a situationship. He only texts me at, like, 11 P.M. and I’m seriously starting to wonder what he does at school all day. I don’t even remember his major, am I a bad situationship? I think it’s justifiable to want to be texted before 11 P.M. And, also, I think it’s justifiable to want to be asked to FaceTime before 11 P.M. Because chances are, I’m high, tucked in, and watching a little TV show by that time. My pants are probably off.

Of course, if he manages to respond to me in a “timely” manner, he’s always apologizing for taking so much time. A part of me wonders if he’s as invested in our very real and profound situationship as I am. It’s not even a label. We’re not even a thing. That’s what’s so stupid about the whole thing – I want definition in a place where it’s clearly not needed. We’ve been “talking” in the way that makes elementary school girls chatter for about two weeks after he responded to an Instagram story in which I vague a certain singer of a certain pop punk band (who actually ended up viewing the story in question, which added to the whole faux-conundrum). He’s an April Taurus. That’s what the vague was about, in case you were wondering. I can’t tell if an April Taurus is a red flag or not. My mom is one, and I hate her but also, I don’t know what I’d do without her. Maybe that’s the whole mother thing, though.

Back to the situationship: is it normal to look for reassurance when it’s an undefined relationship? Because, I’ll have texted him at three in the afternoon and by the time I get a text back, it’s turned well into night. I want to know what he’s been up to and, maybe, if he’s talking to any other girls. Not that he’d tell me that. It’s not like I don’t talk to other guys. There’s Tinder guy, who calls me gorgeous and goes to local shows with me. He’s kind of another situationship, but I think I may have fumbled it. No, actually, I definitely fumbled it. Anyway, haha!!!!!! Current situationship is so loosely defined by that word. His band put out an EP and he didn’t even tell me. I had to find out on Instagram.

I’ve been kind of an Insta-whore recently, I might need an intervention. I’ve posted slutty pictures in hopes one guy will see it and then show it to other guy who I kind of want. And, that plan, did not include the situationship from Iowa who is an April Taurus. Kind-of-crush from Boston who’s a May Taurus, maybe. Don’t tell him I said that. My slutty attention-whore posts might definitely become Situationship-April-Taurus aimed, though. I crave the validation of his story like. Maybe he’ll even respond to it! The thrill of being young and not in love or friendship but a secret third thing.

The bottom line is, I think, that situationships are dumb. They’re a stupid concept and an almost cowardly solution to commitment issues. Because, at what point do you step out of the situationship and turn it into a relationship? And, will I ever find that out with this current guy? Much to think about.