#so i’m messaging this girl on bumble cause i’m an idiot who can barely talk irl

[s-h-commatothetop-dynasty]

ahhhhhhhfjjfjgjfjjfjcjskvjkzjfjsjfjjdjgjfjgkskfk

[19tozier]

polaroid boy (richie tozier)

request:if/when requests are open (if this is okay bc idk your request rules) could you write an angst fic for reddie based on the song polaroid boy by nicole zefanya, it can be from either persons pov i think that decision is more of a personal one based on who you think fits the song better

warnings: angst, swearing, allusions to sexual things, i tried out some stuff w tense so hopefully it still makes sense lol

[losers + reader are college aged (20/21)]

there is an exquisite beauty in falling in love. in feeling your heart quicken at the sight of their smile, or feeling your cheeks blush at the sound of their laugh. in letting yourself tumble off the edge of the cliff because you are certain they will be there to catch you.

there is an exquisite pain in hitting the ground after they fail to do so.

you want to curse yourself for having stepped off the edge. you aren’t sure you’d have been able to stop yourself from falling anyways, but you did it with no hesitation. you didn’t just trip over the cliff, you leapt off of it. no parachute, no net, no caution. and now you’re the one paying the price for it.

it started, innocently enough, in your first lecture fall semester of your sophomore year. you were still drudging through your gen eds, doing your best to stay motivated through endless classes that weren’t at all related to your major. the lectures made your eyes glaze and your head pound, but you were getting through them. nothing exciting ever happened in them but that was fine with you.

until, of course, richie tozier sat next to you in the middle of a half-empty history lecture, fashionably late and a devil’s smirk on his pretty face.

you’d done your best to ignore him at first, furiously writing down anything and everything the professor said. just because a beautiful boy had sat beside you didn’t mean you would compromise your education. class first, dick later, you thought.

but richie, still wearing that gorgeous smirk, had leaned into your side and murmured, “you look a little tense there, doll. want some help with that?” and his left eye had dropped in a wink that sent prickles down your spine.

fuck, had you wanted to slap him for such a suggestive comment. did he always go around propositioning random girls? you were certain the answer was yes, and yet... part of you loved the attention, and another part of you wanted to keep those blue eyes on you at all times.

you’d scowled, glaring at him, refusing to rise to his bait and give him the response he so obviously wanted. you’d pointedly turned back to your professor, ignoring richie for the remainder of the class.

you’d expected him to give up the chase, maybe find another girl who’d take kindly to his attempts at seduction, but he’d stayed by your side while you packed up your bag and walked out beside you, body in a long loose sprawl as he asked—no, begged—you to let him take you to lunch. and were you really going to turn down a free meal? he may be irritating, but you weren’t stupid.

and oh, had he irritated you. it felt like he had been drawn straight from your own personal hell to drive you crazy, but there was something charming about him. something that drew you in despite your earlier reluctance.

he’d leaned across the table at lunch, smirk softened into something sweeter, and brushed his thumb along your cheek. “you’ve got somethin’ here, love,” he’d murmured, his eyes smoky.

“thanks,” you'd rasped, subtly crossing your legs and praying he didn’t notice your blush.

you’d caved and given him your number at the end of your maybe-date. you were still operating under the idea that he wouldn’t want to see you again, so hey, you’d figured, what the hell?

but he had. he’d texted you that night, a simple hey there sugar ;), and against your will your heart had started pounding. your hands shook as you carefully typed out we’ve known each other for a day and you’ve called me how many nicknames?

you’d laughed, irritation be damned, when he had responded almost immediately: i can add on a few more. put it on my tab, toots.

you found, slowly but surely, that richie was charming and funny and obnoxious in a way that made you want more. he was crass, yes, and sometimes he made you want to gouge your own eyes out, but he was softer and sweeter than you’d ever have thought to give him credit for. and it was horrible for you, really, because there was nothing to stop you from developing feelings.

but there were nights where you curled up with richie in your dorm room, squished together on your too-small bed, your roommate blessedly gone for the night, watching shitty movies on your laptop with takeout scattered around you. nights where you were certain that everything you felt for him was reciprocated.

he had pressed his lips into your hair, his glasses digging into the top of your head. “this movie is something else, doll,” he’d murmured to you, tilting his chin towards where you were forcing him to watch the room with you. “not sure i know what’s going on anymore.”

you’d laughed, twisting your head to kiss his jaw. “that’s the point,” you had grinned. “this movie is so bad that it’s fantastic.”

he’d snorted, the tips of his fingers sliding under your t-shirt and tracing circles into the bare skin of your back. “not quite the word i’d use but sure, toots. i’ve definitely lost the plot though.”

you’d frowned, reaching to pause it to look up at him. “i can rewind it if you want?”

he’d smirked, reaching gentle fingers to cradle the curve of your jaw, turning your face towards him. “i can think of something better to do,” he’d purred, and his lips and his body had silenced any objection you could’ve had. not that you did, really.

he’d had that effect on you. time and time again, he had turned you into a bumbling idiot, a lovesick fool, a damned clown. you were the court jester in his kingly eyes, the puppet beneath his talented hand, the doll to sit high on his shelf. people thought it was he that was the bozo, but no; he played you like it was his job and you were too stupid to ever realize how masterful he was.

you’d giggled to him, stretched out in the quad with your head in his lap. he’d been leaning against a tree, one hand absently stroking through your hair, the other holding up a book for class. you had been fucking around with the polaroid camera your friend had bought you for your birthday, taking pictures of the trees and the students around you but mostly of richie himself.

“what’s up, sugar?” he’d murmured, glancing down from his book. his glasses had nearly slid off of his nose.

you’d reached up to correct them, smiling at him. “nothing, nothing. you just look cute. very photogenic.”

he’d rolled his eyes, bookmarking the page he was on and setting the book aside to fully give you his attention. “cute? me? damn baby, maybe you need these glasses more than i do.”

you’d scowled at him, as annoyed as ever that he never seemed to understand how gorgeous he was. “you take that back right now, asshole.”

he had laughed, grinning down at you. his palm had slid along your stomach, warm and secure against your skin, and his eyes had shone in the sunlight. “you always say the sweetest things, doll,” he’d teased.

he’d ducked to kiss you before you could respond, slow and deep and searching, and you had melted back against the grass. it was rare for him to initiate something like this in public, enough that you had kissed him back and not had a single other thought. when he walked you to class, he didn’t reach for your hand; when you met him for lunch, he didn’t kiss you hello or goodbye; when you studied together in the library, he never sat close enough to touch. at the time, you had simply thought he was reserved with his affections.

those polaroids you had taken were the first of many, proudly hung up on the wall of your dorm next to your bed. they weren’t all of richie: some of you and your roommate, some of your friends from your classes, some of the friends of richie’s you had met only once. but most of them had been of richie, because you were smitten and you couldn’t do anything about it.

every time he came over, every time he saw them, his face had done something complicated that you had never understood—a frown to a grimace to a smile that he forced on.

looking back, you wonder about every sign that you had missed. could you have saved yourself the heartbreak if you had simply paid attention? could you have gotten yourself out with your dignity?

it had never even occurred to you to define what you and richie were. you were stupid and young and content to just be able to love him, even if you hadn’t known him long. you never thought to ask him if you were dating, or if he was your boyfriend or not. you really fucking wish you had.

it came to a head not long after. richie had come over like usual, a spring to his step and a bite to his words that had been there for weeks now. he’d been a ghost of himself, eyes flickering around to see who was watching whenever you saw him on campus, not responding to your messages for hours, jumping whenever he saw you. you had just wanted him to relax for a bit.

you’d curled into his chest, laughing along with him to the stupid horror movie you were watching. “it doesn’t even look real,” you’d giggled, pointing to the spray of blood from on-screen.

richie had snorted. “‘cause it’s not real, it’s probably chocolate syrup.”

you had rolled your eyes, poking at his chest. “i know that, smartass. i’m talking about the effects.”

“i’m talking about the effects,” he had mimicked you, pitching his voice higher and sticking his tongue out at you.

you’d scowled, pinching his side. “you’re annoying and one of these days i’ll murder you.”

“oh, is that a promise?” he’d grinned, lopsided and too damn sexy for his own good. “not one of my kinks, i’ll admit, but damn, what a way to go.”

“oh, for the love of—” you’d lunged forward, knocking him onto his back and almost pitching the two of you off the side of the bed. he’d grabbed onto your waist to hold you steady. “i want to strangle you! with my bare hands!”

“that’s hot.” and he’d laughed, the motherfucker, like the sound of it didn't live inside of your ribcage and swim through your bloodstream. every inch of him was something specially designed to get under your skin and make a home there.

it still has a home there.

you’d growled, whaling on him with gentle fists that he did absolutely nothing to combat. he’d just kept laughing, holding your wrists in his big hands, glasses skewed. “you’re awful and i really fucking wish i didn’t love you.”

all at once, it had gone silent and he had gone tense. the expression on his face had not been the elation you had been hoping for; it was horror, plain and simple, and the shock of it had pitched you sideways off of his lap.

“you love me?” he’d asked through trembling lips, looking anywhere but you.

slowly, you had nodded. your voice had disappeared. and he’d nodded back, one short frantic movement, and then vaulted himself off of the bed.

“richie—”

“i didn’t think we were that serious,” he’d said, yanking his shoes on. “i thought we were just having fun.” like it was nothing. like you were nothing.

tears had welled in your eyes and your chest had ached with the force of it. your heart, which you had thought was safe in richie’s hands, was being crushed and ripped to shreds and you could do nothing but watch.

“richie, wait—”

but he had shrugged you off, forceful in the way he had pushed you back. the look in his eyes was wild and terrified and you didn’t recognize him anymore.

he hadn’t looked back at you, in the end. he had just shouldered his backpack and grabbed his phone and disappeared out the door. he hadn’t paused when you sobbed out his name one more time. he hadn’t even faltered.

foolishly, oh so foolishly, you’d held on to hope that that wasn’t the end. that you’d simply overwhelmed him and he just needed time. but as the days stretched into weeks and your texts and calls had remained unanswered, your hope had died the same way your heart had.

you had taken that fatal plunge; the ground was hard when you’d hit it.

you still have the polaroids. you’d taken them down after a few weeks, too hurt to see yours and richie’s smiling faces when he had disappeared from your life. but you still have them, in the shoebox you keep under your bed. and there are nights like tonight where you pull them out to stare at them.

your chest aches, the tears in your throat choking you. you should be all cried out by now but you aren’t that lucky. it seems every reminder of him is destined to detonate something inside of you.

you can still feel his smile on your lips. you can still taste his laughter. you can still hear the stupid voices he’d do to make you giggle. you can still feel him in your heart.

richie hurt you. god, had he hurt you. he’d hurt you so badly you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to smile again. but you’re still in love with him and you don’t think it’ll ever go away.

he’ll forever be the boy in your polaroids, the one that made you feel on top of the world and the one that made you feel like you were six feet under. you won’t ever be able to hear his favorite song without hearing it in his voice. you won’t ever be able to love again without feeling his imprint in your heart.

there’s something magical about falling in love. you won’t take that back. but on nights like this, you wish you never fell.

[obxhoe]

Leather and Lace || Rudy Pankow {1}

Lovers forever face to face My city your mountains Stay with me stay I need you to love me I need you today Give to me your leather Take from me my lace

(eek i’m nervous about this. hope y’all enjoy. message me if you wanna be on my taglist!)

CHAPTER ONE

ZOE’S POV:

Sophie’s alarm clock is blaring yet again after the third time she had snoozed it this morning. I can hear it in my bedroom… across the freaking hallway. I pad into her room,

“Soph.” No response. “Soph!” I whisper-yell. “Sophie!!!” She jolts up, ripping her eye mask off.

“I’m up. I’m up.” 

“I’m leaving in 20 minutes for class, I won’t be home until at least 11 tonight, I told Liv I would have dinner and a wine night at her place.”

“I’m probably sleeping at Aaron’s tonight so…” I raise an eyebrow at her. Aaron is this new guy she met over Bumble and the two of them have been seeing each other every day since their first date 3 weeks ago.

“Alright well have fun and try not to do anything dumb”

“You know I always do” I laugh and shut her door, walking to my vanity to quickly put on some makeup and grab my stuff. 

I’m about a quarter way through my senior year at NYU, and about a quarter away from an existential crisis. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life yet. Basically every single one of my friends have boyfriends and they talk about marriage and babies and all that shit. And it’s cute. But I’m fine on my own. My last boyfriend Peter always had me feeling suffocated. The constant “Babe” and “Baby”. The obligation of having to FaceTime someone all the time. Having to be around someone every minute of every day. I was exhausted all the time. Currently, I’m an international business major with a minor in accounting. Taking a full course load, and working a part time job in an accounting firm on top of that. I don’t exactly have time for anything else. 

I check the time and see that I’m running 5 minutes late. I slip on mom jeans, a giant t-shirt I stole from my dad years ago and run out the door. The walk to school is always my favorite part of the day. The West Village was my dream neighborhood to live in and once I saved up enough money from working throughout school, I finally was able to rent a tiny two bedroom apartment. I mindlessly scroll through social media as I speed walk to “campus”, it’s really just a few buildings in the city, there’s no open space or anything. Unless you count Washington Square Park. I pass the West 4th street subway station and my phone fumbles out of my hand as a result of someone walking straight into me.

“Fuck. fuck fuck fuck.” I say grabbing my phone and seeing the screen cracked. This is not exactly what I need at this moment.

“I am so sorry” I hear a voice above me, “I’m not from here, which I guess you can tell. Uh, I’m a little lost. I think? I’m not sure where I’m going or what uptown and downtown mean on the subways. Sorry, I’m rambling. Oh my god!” He sees my phone. “I’m so sorry. Shit. I can get you a new one.”

“Ok chill for a sec dude” I stand up brushing my hair out of my eyes. “At least buy a girl coffee before you offer up a phone.”

“Oh you’re not mad. I thought most people who live here have a stick up their ass all the time” He says, and I finally look up at his face. Those eyes, those fucking eyes. My breath catches in my throat as I realize I’m staring at him. Something about him looks or feels familiar but I can’t place my finger on it.

“Uh yeah most people are like that.”

“So are you not from here?” He asks “Cause ya know, you’re nice and stuff.” 

“Oh no I live here. I go to NYU, I’m actually on my way there now.” I look at my phone to check the time but I can barely see due to the cracked screen. 

“Uh it’s 9:0-”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me” I groan loudly, class started at 9.

“Late for class…?” he asks cautiously, not sure if he’s going to make it worse or not.

“Yes. I have to go, like right now.” I say starting to turn to walk away.

“Wait. Let me buy you that coffee so we can discuss the phone thing. Today isn’t great for me, how does tomorrow sound?” I nod and he hands me his phone. “Put in your number.” I quickly type in my information and hand him back the phone. “Well Zoe,” He says looking down at my contact, “I hope to see you later.”

“You too, I didn’t catch your name though.”

“Rudy. Rudy Pankow.”

“Well Rudy,” I look at him, flashing a small smirk “I’ll be looking forward to your text.” I turn and walk away as fast as I can. Of all the things that make me anxious, being late to class is pretty high up on the list. But I think the idea of meeting Rudy for coffee is consuming my mind more than the fact that I’m late is. I slip into the back of the lecture hall about 15 minutes late, luckily not drawing any attention to myself. I take out my notebook and try to take notes, but my mind is elsewhere.

RUDY’S POV:

I don’t know where the hell I am right now. Chase was completely wrong when he said the New York subway system would be easy to figure out. I have to go film a few interviews for Buzzfeed about season two and I’m lost. Totally lost. 

“West 4th street-Washington Square” The crackle comes over the speaker. 

“Fuck it” I mumble and get off. I can just take an Uber, so much for trying to get the whole experience. I walk up the stairs trying to order an Uber, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. All of a sudden I slam into what I can only hope is another tourist, the last thing I need is someone yelling at me for looking at my phone. 

“Fuck. fuck fuck fuck.” I hear a voice from next to me mutter.

“I am so sorry” Fuck. She’s beautiful, and I’m just straight up dumb. “I’m not from here, which I guess you can tell. Uh, I’m a little lost. I think? I’m not sure where I’m going or what uptown and downtown mean on the subways. Sorry, I’m rambling.” For fucks sake Rudy shut the fuck up. I look to her hand and see that I shattered her entire phone and my stomach drops. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry. Shit. I can get you a new one.” Yes good job. Just offer up an entirely new phone, that’ll help. I mentally smack my forehead. 

“Ok chill for a sec dude” She stands up, locking her eyes with mine. My eyes can’t decide where to look. Her eyes? her lips? She’s stunning. “At least buy a girl coffee before you offer up a phone.” My face turns bright red. I’m a fucking idiot. She’s running late and I decide to just shoot my shot. I shove my phone at her offering up coffee. A smile breaks onto my face when she takes it and types in her contact info. Zoe. 

“Well Rudy, I’ll be looking forward to your text” She smirks at me. God dammit I have never seen anything like her before. She spins on her heel and rushes away. I slide into the nearest taxi, not getting the chance to order an Uber. What the hell just happened?

ZOE’S POV:

I can’t get him off my mind. This isn’t like me at all. Usually I turn random men on the street down, I mean who doesn’t? What if this guy is a serial killer. God Zoe what did you do. Ok but he seems nice enough right? Ugh. I stare at my glass of wine, mind wandering.

“Earth to Zoe” Liv waves her hand in front of my face. I blink and look up.

“Sorry I’m exhausted. Too many unhappy clients today.”

“Uh huh sure.” She rolls her eyes and my friend Katie laughs next to her.

“What?!” I say, a little too defensively.

“Who’s the guy? You only ever act like this, all out of it and daydreamy when there’s a guy”

“There’s no gu-” I get cut off.

“Oh don’t even try. Who is he.” Katie slides next to me and pours more wine in my glass.

“It’s really no one. I met him on the street, he sort of smashed my phone. Well I guess I did. When he ran into me. And then he offered to buy me a new phone just like that. I was like well at least buy me a coffee first, you know, jokingly. But then he actually made a date for tomorrow to get coffee. He said he’d text me, but it’s been hours so I doubt it’ll actually happen. Probably is just being nice.” I mumble the last sentence. 

“A guy on the street?” Liv raises her voice.

“Are you crazy?” Katie says, setting her wine glass down a little too hard.

“I know I know. But something about him just felt familiar. Like I had seen him before or something. He seems our age, he had these insane blue eyes. I couldn’t stop staring.” I look down at the table. “I probably won’t even go, it’s a dumb idea.” 

“Dude, you’ll find someone. I promise. It just takes time” I look over to Liv.

“That’s the thing though. I don’t even want someone, I’m fine on my own right now. If I started seeing a guy, I wouldn’t have time for him, the two of you, work and school. I would literally have a mental breakdown.” I laugh. Part of me knows I’m lying. I don’t want a boyfriend, that part is true. But if that boyfriend was Rudy, I would have to reconsider. That’s crazy right? I’m definitely going crazy. I don’t even know this guy.

“Ok well let’s get drunk and watch hot boys on TV. There’s a show Liv and I wanted to watch on Netflix called Outer Banks. Have you seen it yet?” Katie asks me as she goes to the couch.

“I don’t have the time for that.” I plop down next to her.

“So that’s a no” She grabs the remote.

“I’m so fucking excited. I keep seeing stuff about the show everywhere, season two is coming out next week.” Liv squeals. Katie starts the show and I start chugging my wine so I can get a new glass. I choke on my wine and spit it out all over the ivory rug.

“Zoe! What the Fuck?!” Liv yells, obviously pissed I just ruined her rug. But I can’t stop coughing. I look back to the TV to make sure I’m not seeing things. It’s him, I could never forget those eyes.

“That’s him” I choke out, “That’s the guy who I ran into today.”

“Rudy Pankow? The guy on the TV right now? Are you sure?” Katie looks at me.

“There’s no way.” Liv shakes her head.

“I’m dead serious. That’s the guy.” My phone vibrates from across the room and we all look at each other. I run over to look at it.

Meet me at Think Coffee in SoHo tomorrow at 3pm. Apple Store right next door ;) -Rudy

“No. Fucking. Way”

Taglist: @pink-meringues​ @x-lulu​ @perkeusjackson​

[lickstynine]

Really stupid shit below the cut. I know it doesn’t belong here, but this is the only place I can post where the people that this happened with won’t see it. Feel free to ignore, I just desperately needed it off my chest.

So like a week ago, we were having critiques in Printmaking. It’s a 9am class so fucking nobody was talking, so I was trying to contribute and actually make it a critique and not just a bunch of people sitting there staring dead-eyed at each person’s work. I was super tired, and kept saying lots of dumb shit, not on purpose, just cause my brain was running on like half power and it was hard to articulate my thoughts in a way that made sense.

We were looking at one girl’s work, and it had like a deep sad personal message. Somebody said something really sorrowful that left this dead silence hanging in the air, and my socially incompetent tired brain goes respond with a joke. 

It of course came out terribly and sounded super mean (I didn’t mean it to be, humour is just the only way I know to respond to bad shit). Somebody hissed “too soon,” and literally half the class was glaring daggers at me, so I just completely shut up for a while.

I felt really bad at the time, but nobody said anything about it after we moved on to the next person’s work, so I was just avoiding the subject with a ten-foot pole for fear of getting snapped at again. I’ve been feeling guilty about it ever since, but I didn’t really know what to do. I’m really shitty at articulating my emotions (which is why I’m in this stupid situation to begin with), so I’m not good at apologizing and making it sound sincere, even if I really do mean it.

Fast forward to this week. The girl and I haven’t talked since (not like a major cold shoulder thing, we were never super close). A couple of the people from that class who I’m actually friends with were in the studio with me. We were talking about other stuff (specifically I was complaining about this one teacher of ours who goes on a little too constantly about how “in America, you have the right to be a bigot” and how that kinda worries me), and one of the girls just turns it around on me.

“Yeah well that comment you made last week was fucking offensive. You really upset the girl and there were like four different people ready to tear you a new asshole. The only reason we didn’t is cause the prof would’ve freaked out (he’s a really quiet kinda awkward guy that would definitely not know how to handle half of his class getting into a screaming match).”

And like,,, I barely even knew how to respond. Cause it’s not like I was proud of what I’d said, I was fucking mortified. I’d been feeling guilty about it all week, I just didn’t know how to fix it. (I did defend myself from the bigot comparison tho cause there’s a big difference in being accidentally offensive and deliberately hateful) 

I basically said to her what I’m saying here: I was tired and my brain was going off with no filter; I wasn’t trying to be offensive, that’s just how my stupid brain copes with sad things; I really was sorry but didn’t know what to do.

And she was like “Well, [the girl] knows you and knows that you just are that socially inept, so she probably knows you didn’t mean it in a shitty way. But she was hurt, and the other people in class that don’t know you like that probably assume that you meant it in a shitty way. You can maybe try to apologize but idk if it’ll matter at this point.”

I just kinda nodded and desperately waited for her and the other girl to leave. And I’ve just been sitting here crying and feeling like a piece of shit since. Like, I don’t care what the classmates I don’t know think of me, most of them aren’t even interesting, much less talented. But I really honest to god feel bad about upsetting the girl and don’t know how to fix it.

It’s really fucking stressful because I don’t really have the right to be upset at all cause it was me being stupid. But like, I also really didn’t mean to be an ass, I just don’t know how to handle emotional situations, especially when it’s early and I’m tired. I think I might like write the girl a letter, cause that requires a level of effort that implies more sincerity than a verbal apology (and I can actually fucking articulate myself in writing, rather than being a bumbling stammering idiot), but I just... feel like a piece of shit, and it’s really messing with my head.

[jhope-seok]

I have a lot of things to say about Tinder.

This is a personal rant about idiot boys on tinder. So if you’d like to read my CRAZY FUCKING ESCAPADES IN THE DATING WORLD. PLEASE. GO AHEAD. CLICK READ MORE. IT’LL BE INTERESTING. And fun. To watch me implode then explode.

Warnings: mentions of sex/sexting, lots of cursing, men being disgusting--potentially triggering, and one angry ass woman.

Warning part 2: this is A LOOOONG ASS POST, probably with a lot of grammatical errors. It’s 2am. (just so we’re all aware, it’s about 2.3k worth of ranting plus pictorial evidence)

So here’s the thing about me and tinder. I’ve been on the thing since I was in college, probably around junior year when I really came into the realization of my sexuality/being a pansexual person. Keep in mind this was like.....5 or 6 years ago now. I was interested in exploring my options, exhausted from going to countless frat parties and having random makeout sessions with boys who never asked for my number, and/or went on to makeout with the next girl they found at the party. Over the years I have collected an INFLUX of over 1,000 matches. I am not saying this number to brag, I am saying this number to give you an idea of how much of a credible fucking source I am when I present my case. And my case is as such.

ALL MEN ON TINDER ARE THE FUCKING. ABSOLUTE. WORST.

For perspective I have also dabbled in the following dating apps:

OKCupid (absolutely horrid. don’t do it. the shit i went through on this app....just. don’t get me started. I could make a whole other post about the atrocities of this site)

HER (really sad option for lesbian/bi/pan/women looking for other women)

Bumble (pretty successful but forcing the woman to speak first is annoying as hell and then giving a STRAIGHT MALE ONLY 24 HOURS TO RESPOND. Utter hell.)

Hinge (just...downright annoying)

CrossPaths (for christians. Honestly a good idea. Poorly executed. Poorly advertised).

Badoo (honestly...what the fuck)

Coffee Meets Bagel (good idea; too complicated)

Skout (nope)

The Game by Hot or Not (i don’t remember using this but my phone says it’s in my cloud)

And probably some others I can’t remember

What you should take away from this list is that

I’m a needy bitch

I was VERY DESPERATE at times

And i’ve tried a LOT OF OPTIONS.

therefore: don’t comment on this saying: well this worked, well that worked, try this, try that. No. Tinder is still one of the only options that actually works consistently and will continue to work because it is one of the least complicated among the dating apps.

Now. To my point that all men on tinder are the absolute fucking worst.

Time for some examples.

I will not be using these people’s real names, because that’s just mean. So I will present them to you in cases.

Case #1:

Me and this man matched about a year and a half ago, end of 2016. We were unable to meet up because I had a bunch of plans going on--at the time I worked in a law firm and my commute was hell so i only had time to go on dates on the weekends. And being that it was december I was busy every...single...weekend. Which he was fine with! (Awww what a kind gentlemen). No.

He had made it pretty clear from the beginning that he was really only in it for the sex. which for me at the time was fine. I let him know that I didn’t just fuck around on the first date. I lived--and still do live--with my mother and so he couldn’t just come over whenever and i couldn’t just leave whenever i wanted to spend the night at his place in D.C. He said that was fine. However, apparently he was not fine with that.

We talked for a month, lots of sexting, lots of naked snaps, whatever, whatever, we were basically waiting to jump each others bones. But I had also told him that I did not fuck on the first date. I had a rule. I would not break that rule. Again, he said he was fine with that.

On our first date--in a CROWDED RESTAURANT--for brunch, he kept whispering to me about how he wanted to push all of our plates off the table and fuck me in front of all those people. I politely told him to shut up because there were people sitting less than two feet away from us and that was inappropriate for sunday brunch to be talking like that (how proper of me....). Anyways, I let him walk me to my car in a garage, and as we approached it he came up behind me and forcefully turned me around to kiss him. I was like “ooh how hot. I like this.” Anyways, I drove him to his car, we made out a little, then we went on our separate ways. We had a second date not much longer after that, where we had agreed to go out to dinner BUT that first we were gonna fuck in his car. So we met up in a garage and we waited for the cars around us to leave and then we made out, and i sucked his dick. I did N O T let him have sex with me because I was annoyed that he was trying to push me to it--he had a daddy kink--and kept saying “ooh how hard do you want daddy to fuck you”. I said “You can only fuck me when I say you can, and I say no.” thank god he respected my boundaries. So I sucked him dry, then he “MAGICALLY” got a call from his work calling him in. I barely heard from him after that. Because he told me I should come over and spend the night so we could fuck. I said no. He ghosted me.

Case #2--Who knows:

Soooo many fucking men. Have ghosted me. For no reason. Like we’ll have a good few opening lines. And then....nothing. Forever. Where in the FUCK DID YOU GO?! Did you find someone better? Did you grow uninterested with our conversation?! Did you forget how to speak the English language? Did you decide you regretted swiping on me? The worst is when they don’t unmatch you and then it’s just left there....hanging.

Case #whatever:

The fucking men who ask if it’s okay to text. And then don’t text.

I don’t even remember this dude’s NAME in the first place to omit it, but we got into an argument because he supports the store brand cheese puff that is America’s president, and I matched him only so I could yell at him (yeah I know...whatever...I like to prove my dominance and tell boys why they’re wrong. Also because half of the time I use dating apps just to have conversations with people because I’m bored). Anyways. we got in this heated debate and he was like “I like your fire, you should text me here’s my number ____” blah. So I texted him cause i was interested enough in our debate to continue it. THE BITCH NEVER ANSWERED ME. LITERALLY....FOR MONTHS. PROBABLY OVER A YEAR. And then out of fucking nOWHERE he responds like “hey who is this again?” Dude...... NO.

Case #The Never Ending Message Senders:

These men are the worst. So I should explain myself first. I don’t really ever unmatch someone unless it’s for a good reason. Like they’re being disgusting, racist, homophobic, gross, call me fat, ugly, whatever. For the most part I don’t unmatch with someone because in the old days of tinder, unmatching would just PUT THE PERSON BACK IN YOUR CIRCUIT (good job tinder). I’m assuming they did this in case you deleted your tinder, or your app crashed and you had to restart, or you accidentally unmatched someone, whatever. So I don’t unmatch for the sole reason that I don’t want these jerks, who never took the time to respond to my hello or witty opening statement, back in my playing field. I don’t revisit my old matches, I don’t try to restart conversations with them.

If only men could learn the same fucking thing. I have so many men who CONSTANTLY message me. I’m talking like once in every blue moon. It’s like they let the conversation lie for a while, and then BAM another message. The ones I do actually unmatch are the ones that don’t wait a while. They just constantly message, hour after hour after hour until I either respond or unmatch. I don’t know a woman who WOULD respond after having gotten 10 messages of the same “Hello? You there?” “Member me?” (yes one dude has actually said “member me” to me. Not “remember me”...”member me”) etc. etc. in the course of a few hours. Take the hint dude. Please. I don’t enjoy being ghosted, but I know when to take a hint.

A perfect example of such case is the following!

(Context: I just updated the pictures in my tinder account today! So through tinder’s cool new facebook timeline! you can see when your matches update their profiles. to scroll through and judge them even further to see if they’ve gotten cuter or uglier through time).

Please take note of the dates attached to the message. For clarification, “today” is August 27th, 2018!

I have since unmatched him. Buddy. Please. Take the hint. (Also, how fucking creepy of him to say that I’ve gotten closer since a while back....like are you tracking my distance every time you message me? Please dear lord, no).

Case #THE IDIOTS WHO WAIT YEARS TO RESPOND.

This. THIS. THIIIIIS RIGHT HERE. IS WHAT HAS GOT MY BLOOD BOILED SO MUCH I NEEDED TO MAKE THIS POST. THE FUCKING IDIOTS WHO MATCH WITH ME. AND THEN CLAIM THAT THEY DELETED THEIR TINDER. OR THAT THEY LOST THEIR PHONE. JUST REDOWNLOADED. DIDN’T SEE MY MESSAGE. FOR FUCKING. YEARS.

OOOOOOOH BOY. You’ve gotta have some damn nerve to pull that shit. If you lost the app, deleted it, got a new phone, WHATEVER. Your profile would not continue to show up on the matching feed. People would not be able to swipe on your face to find that they matched with you. You would not exist in the eyes of tinder. You would be GONE from the system.

So don’t pull that shit with me. So many dudes have had the audacity to pull this shit with me, and when I call them out on it, most of the time I get either one of three responses: they say “oof yeah I’m sorry, I’m a dick can we move on?”, “Hahaha sorry” and then they continue to ghost me, or people who pull the shit I listed above.

These next photos are from THE SAME DAY AS THE PREVIOUS PHOTOS. Please take note of the date of the first message. (“today” in this sense is technically August 28, 2018 because it’s past midnight.)

Although I deleted his name, I gotta say. My insult was pretty on point. Anyways.

Like how the fuck can you live with yourself with that fucking lie?! Own up to that shit. Be like “yep oops sorry, didn’t think you were cute the first time but this snapchat filter making u look damn good” like don’t be a DOUCHE DUDE. Men are just honestly so fucking frustrating. And yes you better fucking believe I sent that reason for unmatching to tinder. You best fucking BELIEVEEEEEEE I did that. I’m so fucking mad at men. Like how in the hell.

I’ve HONESTLY had better luck matching with MARRIED COUPLES on tinder than I have had with straight men. Married couples at least know how to respect people. God damn.

YOUR MOTHERS DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BE LIKE THIS, MEN. LEARN HOW TO BE DECENT HUMAN BEINGS. JESUS CHRIST.

All in all, if you’ve ever toyed with the idea of downloading tinder: Don’t. Stay out of the fucking awful shit that is Tinder and dating apps for as long as you can. I have my settings set up to men in their 30s, and honestly older men do not mean more mature men. Just absolutely frustrating.

Also, as an addendum: 

Case #Don’t put my height in my bio/or do and say “Cause I guess it’s important/matters”

To all males on the planet earth: PUT. YOUR. FUCKING. HEIGHT. IN. YOUR. BIO. It fucking matters. As a tall as woman, it is so fucking annoying to match with a cute dude and then have them say “Hey I’m 5′2″ is that okay?” um....no. I’m sorry buddy. That is not okay. I have strict height limits for this ride and 5′2″ does not pass the riding restrictions.

We’re gonna call in a CELEBRITY SHOT for this story, I matched with this dude on bumble who didn’t have his height in his profile. (Context: my bumble profile says “5′10″ cause it doesn’t matter” <--a nice jab at all the straight dudes out there) and we go about having this great conversation, we’re clicking, he knows one of my friends from college, we bond, we go on a date. THE FIRST THING OUT OF THIS ASSHOLE’S MOUTH ON OUR DATE WAS “WOW. You’re taller than I expected.” BITCH HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CAN U READ. IT’S THE FIRST THING IN MY BIO.

Sub case: I once had a guy match with me, tell me he was shorter than me, then asked me if I would be okay owning him as my slave. I understand and respect everyone’s fetishes, considering I have a slight dominance fetish as well, but a hello would have been nice first.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk.