When your boyfriend starts talking about the mise-en-scene, that’s your cue to suggest a game of Thermos Thoughts.
A simple game where you sip anytime an actor stares longingly into the distance for over 10 seconds.
She gave ample evidence of being familiar with the tendency of eligible ladies to put themselves forward, as well as that of eligible gentlemen to examine the field.
You try pre-gaming an art gallery visit with a round of White Russians.
But your GF refuses to participate because the milk isn’t organic soy-dandelion milk, and the ice cubes weren’t naturally formed in a local, artisanal spring. It’s organic soy-dandelion milk and it’s disgusting.
Most days, I would scroll through them for a minute or two, then get quickly overwhelmed and click “close tab.” For every 20 or 30 messages I received, I responded to maybe one.
I soon found that online dating did not force me to be nice—actually, it required me to be mean.
“It’ll make you stop being such a judgmental bitch,” was how she put it.
“You’ll have to be nice to people.” Online dating was, in my bitchy and judgmental estimation, for women who wanted to get married, stat, and were willing to settle for whatever turned up a few clicks away.
Although he sticks to some traditional values, he still likes his partners strong and willful, fiery enough for the passion to flow.
He will never settle down for a woman with low self-esteem who thinks of sex as a routine or an obligation.
His idea of a movie date is going to an art house film you’ve never heard of.