Dating

She brought a bag with a girl scout uniform and several outfits, then declined to suck my cock while complimenting my eye contact. There’s not much I find more compelling than a woman who *might* want to go to bed with me, and that’s some toxic shit.

She was so beautiful I ignored every signal telling me to walk away. This was, predictably, an error.

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

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

She reminded me of a bird — tiny, fragile, shivering when I placed my hand on her throat.

A turbo-slut, a Tinder match, and the inevitable trajectory from first message to leaving the bar.

On Tinder, I lead with something vaguely suggestive and slightly funny — and I mean every formulaic word of it.

My three approaches to swiping on Tinder, from mindless to attentive — none of which, it turns out, makes much difference.

A brief meeting, a direct question, and an unsurprising disappointment.

The unsexy truth about how I schedule sex.