Ever since my teenage years, I have been in relationships. Before now, I’ve never really “dated” or been single for more than a month or so. But now that I’m single, I am determined to make up for lost time and enjoy my 20s in every way possible. I live in the nightlife district of a major US city, so there is always swarms of new people to meet.
On Friday I went out to the bar with my friends for karaoke night, and we all pulled out our phones, got on Tinder, and started swiping like mad. I mean, my profile is decently impressive. My photos show off my wild blonde curly hair and slender figure by the poolside and my bio was at least acutely funny. I finally came across a profile that piqued my interest. Stephen was 29 and worked in the neighborhood as a tattoo artist. By the looks of his photos, every inch of skin from the neck down was tattooed. His bio also said that he had just moved to the city from London. Heavily tattooed *and* a British accent? Jackpot. I swiped right and held my breath.