How NOT To Get Laid On Social Media

social media
Adrian Sava

I haven’t been on any of the dating apps for over a year. I finally deleted Bumble after getting myself into what I thought was a flirtatious exchange with this yuppie CPA dude, let’s call him Dana because what’s a more yuppie guy name than that. Our back-and-forth was regarding an entrepreneurial idea we both had for pool floaties. When I jokingly indicated my intentions to patent said floaties, Dana told me I better “lawyer up” to which I replied just as savagely “well you better MAFIA up.” The dude immediately unmatched me. And that’s when I finally decided that dating apps just weren’t for me and my off-the-wall sense of humor.

One lonely February night, having not had sex for god knows how long, I decided to consume an entire bottle of $3.99 Trader Joes merlot, don a black crop top sweater and the Christmas pajama pants my mom gifted me, paint my lips a pleasant shade of hooker red, and embark on a sexually frustrated photoshoot during which I snapped 57 photos of myself sprawled on my bed in various positions trying to look like an alluring yet classy (?) cam girl. One of the photos in particular appealed to my drunken mind.

Totally uninhibited at this point, I published the photo to Instagram with the raw-ass caption HEY BOI WANNA COME OVER AND GOOGLE QUANTUM THEORIES OF THE UNIVERSE I HAVE SNACKS AND A GLITTER LAMP. Right after I hit “share,” I sat staring at the post, holding my breath in drunken awe at what I had just unleashed to the internet. Strangely enough, likes (mostly from guys) started pouring in and a few brave souls even commented to make their interest in eating food and googling weird shit with me known.

One guy in particular, I chose to DM as he had that perfect fuckboi vibe which gave me hope he would be chill with my intimacy issues (now that’s another article I intend to write…eventually).

Naturally, one DM led to another which quickly led to an exchange of phone numbers and I skillfully established from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for anything other than a boy toy in 2017. I did not want to discuss my feelings with this guy, ever, I just wanted to take a ride on his disco stick (can never resist a Lady Gaga reference).

Well, this is where things went sideways folks. I explained I was extremely busy at the moment (I did not mention the eight pounds I was planning to lose VERY QUICKLY) so we made tentative plans to meet up a couple weeks down the line. That didn’t stop the guy from texting me sentiments in the meantime like “may I ask how your day is going“ and “I want to make you dinner, what’s your favorite food” etc. He had even gathered from my Instagram posts that I was obsessed with disco balls so he added me on snapchat and texted me that he had sent me his disco ball.

Naturally, I assumed he was referring to his penis and, out of anxiety, I refused to open the snap for a few days at least. When I finally opened the snap, it ended up being a video the guy had made walking through his house to the stairway and upon opening the stairwell door, he zoomed in on a shiny little disco ball lying there on the floor.

I sat staring at the disco ball unable to bring myself to reply to the snap. The textbook over-thinker in me was both terrified and thrilled at this unique gesture. And it was in that moment that I realized, this guy could ruin me. He had already found a way to work his way into my heart and I had never even met him in person.

Granted, this guy probably had no idea the effect his little gestures were having on me. But when a guy does something that is specific to my heart, as opposed to sending me that “wyd” text with the eggplant emoji at 11 PM on a Sunday night, I FEEL THINGS MAN. I helplessly begin to create exciting scenarios with this guy in my head. You know, like cleaning his kitchen the morning after we have sex and then of course he fucks me again in his kitchen out of gratitude.

Naturally, I had to shut this guy down ASAP. I had already made it clear to him I only wanted to use him for his eggplant. He was indicating that he was super into me and I could feel myself starting to like the attention. My ego was not prepared to go back on my initial word (because what if our potential sex fling turned into something more which nine times out of ten means me eventually getting hurt). Like I said, I’m a textbook over-thinker and a prostitute of feelings and giving one too many fucks. So I just stopped replying to the guy, we never met up, and he eventually got a girlfriend and unfollowed me on Instagram. I don’t blame him.

So where am I now? Back to the dating apps. I have re-downloaded Tinder and Bumble. I now avoid yuppie CPA’s with no sense of humor. And I’m working through my issues as best as I can (a.k.a. consuming lots of Trader Joes wine and desperately perusing self-help blogs!).

More importantly, what is the takeaway for you as the reader? Well, you know what they say, NEVER MEET YOUR CRUSHES. Just kidding. The takeaway is don’t be a total weirdo like me, instead you should DM your crush, allow him to send you sexy disco ball snaps or whatever, accept his invitation to cook you a special dinner, and just be open to where it might go! Thought Catalog Logo Mark


More From Thought Catalog