The moment I swiped right is the moment I unzip my very-nice-potential-girlfriend girlfriend and embrace my true skin: FBI Top Ranked Undercover Investigator.
On our first date at your favorite East Village wine spot, I already know your regular order. I know your high school best friend visited Park Slope last year and you two sat by the mirror. Speaking of high school, do you miss Ohio? It seems nice, but who can really tell through the Valencia filter you chose.
Your mom looks nice too. Your #tbts with her are really cute, and you look so happy with the new Nintendo you just bought. Is that how you spend most of your time? For our first anniversary you’ll wonder how I knew to get you a Nintendo hoodie on Amazon. “It’s like we’ve known each other forever” you’ll tell me.
Actually, I’ve only known you for 162 weeks. Because that’s how long you’ve had an Instagram. Your ex girlfriend is a brunette, so am I just your type? She loves taking pictures in Central Park. Were you guys like “nature” people? Her profile is private but her food blog isn’t. It’s cool that she’s hooked up with Foodstirs and Raw Spice Bar. She’s pretty cute and all, but who cant make lasagna?
As I scroll past the fourth photo of you in the same sweater from the GAP, I realize this will never work and I stop responding to the Tinder notifications. You don’t have any pictures of dogs, and way too many sunsets.
I just don’t see this working out so it’s best we just break up now.