Lana, the Horny Librarian on Tinder

First:

 

Okay, so it took place between 4am and 5am, but that was the closest one I could find, so deal.  Oh and:

 

With that, lets begin.

Funny how our days can and will start the same way, but are never the same.  For me, I wake, check my emails and then check to see who has, and more often than not, who has not contacted me on match.com.  This is of course followed by me having to see who swiped right. (We will dive deeper into this in a bit, but first)

TINDER TALES: The story of Lana the Naughty Librarian. 

She looked innocent enough, real, (we’ll dive deeper into this in a bit), and had me laughing with excitement due to her creativity when I read her profile, which read as follows:

Director

University of ACME, SUNY.

19 Miles Away

“Tind her?!? I barely know her…

Swipe right immediately if you often find yourself missing 3D Doritos

Dog lover/owner

Crazy to hot ration= within a desirable range.

Terrified of a Trump Presidency

Newly out of a torrid affair

MA in English, MS in Information studies. Typos make me swipe left.

I’m on here for the sport of it. I don’t really believe I’ll find my soul mate on Tinder…That’s what a paid Match.com account is for. :-p If there’s a dead fish or gun in your photos…no go. “

And she goes to Planet Fitness, which confirms she’s real. Because nobody “goes to Planet Fitness”. Why? Name another gym that has buckets of tootsie rolls at the counter as you walk-in and out? Exactly!

Anyway, she’s cute. Not gorgeous, not all dolled up to make herself feel a little better about her existence by taking god knows how many selfies in her car…

 

 

But she had pics with her dog, pics of a South Park “lookalike” of her, and one of her hiking.  This was some pretty legit shit.  So, of course I swiped right.

She had me at 3D Doritos.

Then, shockingly enough, we matched.

Authors notes here: For those that have no clue how Tinder works, first, we landed on the moon!  Second, for me, a girls picture will appear.  99.9% of the time it’s a pic of some model, from some country, that looks like a Kardashian or Beyonce.  No shit. If you swipe right to one of them, and we all have so go fist yourself with your pretentiousness. You more than likely will match.  From there, now you communicate.  Because on their phone is you, and if they swipe right, they like you, swipe left, no. No one knows.  You don’t know who swiped right (I guess you can now if you pay) but you don’t know who swiped left.  But you get a pretty good idea of when you see someone you know and they don’t live more than 10 miles away, and she doesn’t match with you after you just swiped right…  Yes, I’m talking to you, and YOU know who YOU are… All of you.  Anyway, the moment you both swipe right to each other, the communication lines are open.  And remember the Guatemalan Kim Kardashian I mentioned earlier? Well, she will instantly engage you with this dialogue that is programmed.  Very generic questions which will cause an automatic human response.  What do I mean?  “Hey, there, what’s your favorite tv show?” You answer The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and then what do you do? You ask them theirs.  So, boom, now she has an answer already pre-loaded and every fucking putz living in their mom’s attic is giving himself “The Stranger” to the prospect of meeting Asian Mariah Carey.

 

Asian Mariah Carey

This wasn’t one of those.

Instead, I commented how hysterical her profile was and asked what she directed? She revealed that she was a librarian in town for a conference in Toga. She was staying at this crappy motel, and lived a couple hours downstate.  However, she did indicate she lived here for about a year and a half.  I have no clue why she mentioned it, but she did.  While I wondered why she said that with thoughts that she would relocate here if she met the right guy? On Tinder? Well, those daydreams didn’t last long because her mercurial nature presented itself in a, well, excited manner:

“Whatcha doin here!”

Of course, I had to make some idiotic, douchebag, clever “move”:

“What am I doing here? Is that on a deep, existential level or Tinder?” Wink smiley face, hi, I’m a desperate asshole.

The things we do when we think we’re so goddamn suave.

However, her response is when things, as they say in the movie biz, “took a turn”.  I don’t know if they say that in the movie business.

“Do you want to come and playfully make me cum?”

Now, I’m not going to lie, yes…Yes I did.  And if you saw her, you would too. Nonetheless, it’s 4:30 in the AM.  Oh by the way, I did ask her earlier if she too was a victim of daylight savings? I’m such a fucking asshole.

My retort? I let out one of those comic book villain laughs of “HA!”

Then she told me she had toys and wanted me…Anyway, yeah, we had some bi-polar back and forth for a bit. The “Pit of Despair” is my soul.   She told me she was drinking, bored, lonely, and horny.  Your mind flutters and flaps like a flag atop Yankee Stadium in September. It races from one sexual daydream to the reality that this is fucking crazy.  And honestly, it’s mental fun.  Why? Because, and I hope this was the case, her mind was having fun too.  Almost therapeutically being someone else.  A character in a late night in Cinemax movie.  Where this mysterious stranger that drives a 50’s muscle car and has a three day old beard, comes to the hotel room of the runaway bride looking to explore her deepest, forbidden sexual desires… As long as I bring polyurethane condoms and not latex because she is apparently allergic.

Authors note: Imagine finding out you’re allergic to latex from wearing a condom, or being the recipient of said condom?  I’d rather have my eyes taped wide open and forced to watch every episode of “The View”. That is NOT MISOGYNISTIC. It’s called having good taste.

Remember how I mentioned the mercurial nature of this “young lady”? Well, she would be engaging, on a human level.  Which was the funny part. For example, her auto-correct was fucking with her, so she had a very “Keith Hannigan” like meltdown about it.

“Inelegant

*idiotic

*intellect

Goddamn it I’m trying to write intelligent!”

Yeah, you could see how I was drawn to her.  Until, well, then:

“I have to warn you I have bruises.  My Semi-boyfriend for the last three years kicked the hell our ( not a typo, just keeping it real) of me last week. In places people wouldn’t see.  run”

The lower case “run” creeped me the fuck out!  In that whole little “revelation”, it was “run” which set me off.

Before I could “run”, or address said “run”,

“Now, come play with me now”

Authors note: Yes, this was in response to my question of “When do you want to do this?”…By all means, judge.

As interesting and exciting as this was first thing in the morning, it wasn’t my “first rodeo” with this type of dialogue. For you see, I’ve been the recipient of  someone making an outlandish statement, such as this, on my overly eager Tinder screen.  One time a girl told me she had HIV. True story. And no, I did NOT entertain her by saying, “That’s cool, if it’s not full blown AIDS, we can work around that.”

Nonetheless, this morning, my patience was dissipating, and I needed to eat breakfast before I went for my run. So, I cut to the chase.

I asked her if she was having fun? Which was followed by me telling her to Twitter her Yahoo using one of her toys while watching some late night HBO.

Her response was obvious, as it was about how I was making a mistake and how attentive her oral would be.

But what followed next, well, she wrote:

“This is my life”

That is the moment I realized I needed to sit down and start writing about this.

What we must wonder, in a case such as this, who exactly is the person on the other end of that phone?

It can be anyone from a guy in Zimbabwe trying to relieve me of my burdening bank account.

It can a couple of teenage guys that have done more blow than their parents can afford on a Wednesday night. Possibly trying to fuck with a girl they both what to have sex with but lack the intellect or maturity to attract her.  So, instead, they will make her life an eternal hell.

Or, and this what I think it is, the sad loneliness that many of us feel yet have no idea of how to escape. Instead, we choose to become something that is fictitious.  Someone or thing that you only read about or see in a movie.  A person trying to entertain themselves because life just doesn’t fill that empty hole.

I genuinely don’t know. All I do know is, I’m going to find out.  Because you can be sure as shit I followed up with:

“Don’t go, I want you to tell me what you mean, this is my life”?

-k

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