Friday night I signed up for Bumble. Late Saturday night I sent messages to eight entire men. Today I’m staring at the phone waiting for the guy who looks like a more reserved Pete Holmes to write me back, because damn, dude, HIGH TIDE.
(If you haven’t heard the Holmes bit, the high tide is in my pants.) 🌊
“We have to get up.”
“Because we LIKE the friends we’re seeing today!”
“They have plenty of people coming — who’d even notice?”
“There might be men there.”
“Eh. Dying alone is fine.”
“There’ll be a dog who likes to snuggle.” 😯 “WE RIDE!
I have a new eye doctor and he’s HOT and I wasn’t prepared for that because eye doctors are always 112 years old, so I didn’t even shower today and I’m not wearing makeup and I’m still half sick and he’s married so it doesn’t even matter but also HOT.
Also, I mean, I’m sure it’s possible he tells EVERY woman she has “lovely” eyelashes and that she’s funny, but…I get the sense that perhaps not. So I’m just gonna tuck that little nugget in my back pocket for future ego boosts.