Tinder

Gah. 

Ok. So I met a woman on tinder. We’ll call her duckface as that’s apparently how she looks at herself when snapping selfies. 

It was a random match - her main pic wasn’t cringe so when she shot a message and seemed hot to trot (“let’s not be text buddies!”) I was accommodating.

There were tertiary flags around texting - I guess she sent her phone number fast, meh., I’m cool with that. She texted a lot. Like frequently and rapidly - staccato-fire sometimes for 3-5 like she couldn’t finish a thought. But I was still optimistic, and made plans for Saturday. This was on…idk wed night or maybe Thursday.

Today was absolutely fucking batshit. 

Round I of the redflags (imagine, if you will, a series of Russian nesting dolls. Each construed from a papier-mâché waxen crimson bandana. Imagine a series of this continuing on into the the microscopic where you’ve got fuckin Ant-Man poking in to see if you’re crushing the little folks as you continue to shuck): 

Undisclosed smoker (pack a day)

3 kids (while not a red flag alone, coupled with a lack of disclosure, yeah that’s a big one)

Protection from abuse order on ex husband

“Ex” husband is actually “husband”

3 kids are with husband as you’re “trying out new meds”

I shit you not.

It gets better.

Round II: You tell me that you’re quitting smoking and won’t smoke around me 

You send me a link to a country music song 

*at this point i say that it’s not a good fit between the smoking and the country and maybe stay home - you come back with “I’m 10 mins out from picking you up AND it’s my birthday

Picked up a tinder guy on the second day of texting 

A guy who is now guilted into not ditching the redflag Macarena driving the dodge minivan. 

You floor it on 295 up to like 80 then the van reeks of burned oil and you back off to 10-15 UNDER for the remainder of the time spent driving.

There is swerving.

I’ve got your phone on my knee as it’s there or on the floor in the waist deep trash, the mapping program is telling you when to turn.

You repeatedly tell me that I’m giving bad directions. So I start repeating twice when your phone announces turns. This seems to accommodate your need for reassurances. 

Minivan smells of cigarettes children and mold from a window that doesn’t go down

You’ve got a detox-a-lock on your ignition

You’re smoking pot while driving, texting, blowing in a breathalyzer and looking for apple music 

you still miss the turn for the place THAT YOU’VE  BEEN BEFORE not once but twice driving us up over an embankment and almost bottoming your van out.

We finally arrive. I meet your sisters who seem normal thank Jesus and we strike up convo as they’re both in healthcare or education and they’re smart - convo is easy and not forced I’m glad I’m fitting in and I’m hopeful this puts you at ease.

Guess the fuck again.

You interrupt convo repeatedly - seemingly just to say that you’re not having fun talking to us - okay. We’re sorry. I back off and we have some private convo. 

Then I’m talking to your other sister and now you want to go. 

Okay. And at least now the end of the night is in sight. Fucking PHEW.

You take almost 90 mins going home. 

You tell me that you’ve just been released from a hospital where you intentionally were committed so that you could obtain an Rx for Abilify - within a 2 minute span you alter this narrative to be that you were released from psychological evaluation for SI and hospitalized thereby - and that while you wanted the drugs you didn’t go in for them - so you’re on abilify, trazodone, another (you called it a horse-tranquilizer), you’re smoking pot nonstop and you offered me an Ativan. 

You tell me that it’s been months since you’ve seen any family and that was the first time that you had. And you’d been through a detox and Inpatient program since.

This was the first time you’ve seen your family since. 

And you brought a tinder date. 

And you didn’t tell him (ME) any of this. 

Well. I’m sorry. But that’s fucking bag limit folks. 

Fuck you and your horse tranquilizer. 

#fuckingpsycho 

#baglimit 

#talesfromtheparkinglot 

#buythetickettaketheride