There’s something exhilarating about meeting a stranger for intimacy. I’m not insinuating that the connotation reflects outright debauchery, but my cock always stirs at the thought of becoming acquainted with the newness. I had been using Tinder on/off for a few years, but for the most part, to no avail. I’d fallen into the typical trap of seeing the same ladies on the online dating app, but unfortunately, used the device as more of a way to pass the time as opposed to landing critical hits. I came to understand that my awkward, goofy attitude just didn’t compute into Tinder’s algorithm the way I had hoped it would. Let’s face it: I loved posting pictures of my cat and I, I was still in school trying to finish my second degree, and my hobbies included video games, playing guitar, and Magic: the Gathering. I stood 5’ 10” on a good day, topped with a mop of hair, the color of which was a cross between blonde and brunette as if they had gotten into a street brawl and my color was the messy aftermath, and I had packed on some pounds after discovering craft beer tasted very good. I still had my wide shouldered frame but had a slight pudge above my waist that hadn’t existed 2 years prior. To wrap up my background, I was single at the time of this story, and had been for close to 2 years. Coincidence lent heavily against me, no pun intended.