Hi, I saw your profile on Tinder.
Honestly, when I first looked at your pictures, you seemed pretty basic, although there were some attractive features about you; the way your cheeks lifted when you smiled, your cute light feline eyes, and not to mention those legs… damn.
However, I had encountered enough decent looking people on this app to the point where I was immune to these pictures, and immune to the surprise of receiving “it’s a match!”. I don’t know who texted each other first, but I remember that you led the conversation for the first few days after initially getting in contact. We got along, so we emigrated to Instagram because it was more convenient for the both of us. There, we talked more, and things got saucier…
You obviously wanted a quick fuck near you. Cool. I was just bored, that was the only reason I made the Tinder account. I enjoyed the attention I got from people online and in a way, that validation made me… feel a certain type of way in the pit of my stomach. But this feeling was never intense enough, so I kept seeking people on Tinder, delving into more and more conversations, but I never really got what I was truly looking for; someone who I knew would be able to fuck me well.