Page 25 of Tap Left
This one, at least, was a little more creative. He says he likes my tits. Want 2 meet? I don’t know how he can like my tits since he can’t see them in my profile picture, but I double check it just to be sure before blocking him too.
Guy number three is a self-proclaimed free spirit who is looking for a female to watch. To watch what he doesn’t say, but I don’t have any inkling to find out.
And by guy four, my finger is already hovering over the block button, locked and loaded. Only guy four actually wrote me a message. A real message.
His handle is ThatGuy, and his profile says he’s 33 and does anyone even read this stuff? His photo is of him and his dog, and I have to admit he’s cute. He looks like a beefier version of Paul Walker with an artsy filter from a fancy phone. ThatGuy asks me if it’s just him or is everyone on here batshit crazy?
I laugh and write him back.
LolaB:
Definitely not you. I was just asking myself the same thing.
When I clickout of the app, I hesitate before checking Daire’s message. Last night was… a mistake. But it was also more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced before. Once I lit the match, I couldn’t put out the fire. I thought about him the entire way home. And again when I brushed my teeth. And when I climbed into bed, I touched myself thinking of him inside of me. The monster has grown roots because even sleep and the sobering reality of morning hasn’t cured me of this want.
I don’t want there to be any weirdness. And I’m convinced he’s going to regret it. There will be definite weirdness.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I should just message him and tell him he doesn’t need to worry. It was a onetime thing. That’s probably what he’s texting me about now. He’s probably trying to blow me off. He probably isn’t thinking about me at all, except for how to extract himself from this mess.
I squeeze my eyes shut and open the little envelope on the screen. And the world doesn’t implode.
Daire:
What are you wearing?
That’s it. That’s all it says. And I’m so…. confused. Is he flirting with me? Is he actually thinking of going through with this crazy charade? Does he really want more? I will drive myself crazy if I sit here and think about it. So I text him back a quick response.
Lola:
My cat pajamas.
Another ping, and he texts back at the same time as ThatGuy.
Daire:
Oh, baby. You know what I like.
Idon’t knowhow to respond to that, and I’m certain he’s being sarcastic, so I don’t. I check Tap Left.
ThatGuy:
Phew. I was beginning to abandon all hope there for a minute. Since you’re sane (so you say) and I’m partially sane myself, I think we should probably be friends. It’s good to have allies in this strange new land, don’t you think?
LolaB:
That sounds logical. But fair warning. The first hint of crazy and you get the boot.
ThatGuy:
Sounds like a fair shake.
Another text from Daire.
Come to my office today. Noon.
That’s it. Just a command. Like I’m a delivery service, and he can order me up whenever he wants. My fingers hover over the keyboard, hesitant.
Opening myself up to Daire would be considered emotionally irresponsible. This is exactly the thing I told myself I wouldn’t do again. And now my heart and my brain are at war. Logic tells me to stop this and to stop it now. But my heart is screaming for another fix.
