You were definitely about to do something important. Dishes? Laundry? Therapy portal login? Something.

But then you opened Tinder.

Just to check. Just for a sec. Like a digital cigarette. You deserve a break, right?

First guy: 6'1", doctor, ran the New York Marathon, owns a dog that rescues other dogs. His bio says: “Looking for something meaningful with someone who’s done the work.”

Ugh, trauma nerd. Probably uses the word “integration” during sex. Left.

Next guy: Nice jawline. Writes screenplays. Has a pic at a protest. His prompt: “My ideal Sunday: farmers market + deep convos.”

Looks like the type who wants to know your love language. Ew. Left.

Then: No bio. Shirtless gym mirror selfie. Username is just “D.” You pause. That V-line could solve at least three of your problems.

Swipe right. Immediately.

He messages first:

“you dtf rn?”

You don’t respond right away, but your thumb hovers. You tell yourself you’re just curious. Like an anthropologist studying male delusion with no intention of getting railed in a stranger’s apartment again.

Next profile: Accountant. Clean-cut. Smiling in every pic. Seems... safe.

Too eager. Probably calls his mom too much. Ew, stability. Left.

Next: Philosophy grad. Works in sustainability. Handsome in that “reads theory and smells like bergamot” way.

Would probably make you do eye contact for too long during sex. Left.

You catch your reflection in your phone and realize you’re making the same face you made when you forgot to pay your credit card bill. Again.

What were you going to do?

You can’t remember. You were going to improve your life, maybe. Or eat. Or cry.

Instead you just message “D” back:

“wyd rn 😏”

Because you’re empowered. And making empowered choices. On a mattress with no fitted sheet.