N. Likes

Tinder has suspended me again, mid-conversation with a handful of matches, and I hate being the guy who just disappears.

A woman on Tinder appreciates my… specificity.

Pretentious hipster baristas, glass cappuccinos, and the attitude that comes with them.

Isabel promised she wouldn’t be this shy forever, but her shyness was pretty fucking hot while it lasted.

A Ladino love song, a massage parlor in Soho, and the particular eroticism of a woman in green camouflage pants.

Sometimes three words are all you need.

A beautiful woman’s gaze on a street corner — forward, warm, unreadable.

A taxonomy of the women I don’t enjoy interacting with on Tinder, which is to say, nearly all of them.

The first time is always the best time. At least, in my imagination.

A fantasy of what I would have done to you, had you not been so frustrating. Polite, rough, and unfinished – just like us.