Tinder Trash

1: The Donkey in the Unicorn Suit

       I had already played the Tinder game more than once by the time Nero waltzed in and utterly destroyed it for me. The gist of the game was quite simple really; get and maintain over a hundred matches in less than twenty-four hours and then ghost most if not all of them. With a pretty enough face that may not seem hard, so allow me to elaborate that the fun lies in intentionally saying things to them that should make them elect to remove you from their matches. When you have a unique name like Nova, you know for certain if you play your cards right- no one will ever bother to attempt to troll you more than once. Nero was absolutely an exception in that category as well... But I suppose I should back up.

       The name of the game is essentially: please hate me. Some might confuse this for a kink- when in fact, knowing how to swerve creeps can be really empowering. Some might confuse this for being mean- when in fact, before Nero, it purely felt like being honest. Some might confuse this for being cruel or manipulative- but in reality- if you know yourself well enough- truth is your greatest weapon.

       My weeks was about as normal as it could be amidst the COVID-19 crisis in spite of drama with my family and my ex. Everything was fine. Everything was under control. Everything felt light-hearted and laughable thanks to my newest quaranteam. We were drinking and I was definitely drunk as skunk. For the first time in a long time, everything seemed to be on the up and up. Everything was great until one conversation led to another and I decided to play the Tinder game.

       My twenty-four hours was almost up when I matched with Nero. Like with every other guy- I hardly paid any mind to our conversation... Yet at some point I realized I was still engaged after what should have been ghosting time... And somehow he hit a nerve of curiosity I didn't realize I still had.

       Between previous experiences with gross guys all over my inboxes, virtual bullying and even having a long uphill battle trying to shake a stalker- when it comes to online games- my guard is off the charts and I keep my pimp hand strong and calloused. Nero was my kryptonite and I knew it immediately, but I simply couldn't help myself, and I'm pretty sure he knew it.

       If you had asked me at any point before he threw that curveball what I thought of Tinder or of the way guys typically attempt to interact with me on it... I could have adamantly said that's a hot mess you should never play in if you're looking for something real... I would have preached from every podium and mountain top that it is a snake pit you should not venture through if you don't have a thick enough skin to take a venomous bite or two... I should have been able to remind myself to stay on my grind and exercise zero hesitation when someone starts pitching something that sounds too good to be true... But Nero quickly maneuvered his way past every safeguard I had ever managed to build for myself regarding strangers.

       Have you ever wondered why society seems to welcome the idea of a good girl falling for the bad boy, yet a good guy rarely falls head over heels for a bad girl? My theory has always been that the clean cut, sweet, shallow and sheltered are actually too arrogant to risk lowering themselves. Before anyone bothers to get offended, the nice guy and the sad girl works fine... I'm talking about the boss ass b***h, the bad ass b***h and the bottom b***h who already know they'll never land the prep, the jock or the hot nerd. I'm talking about the social lines that are drawn in high school that some never manage to transcend. I'm talking about a connection even the star-crossed lovers drama cannot lay a finger on.

       ... I'm talking about the irreparably damaged vs. the irrevocably blessed.

       There was nothing I managed to learn about Nero that didn't make him sound like he was probably exactly my type... But from the very beginning I knew I wasn't his... I knew he was playing with me, and part of my mind hoped if I was patient enough- eventually he wouldn't... Would it be fair to assume perhaps I made him feel the same way? Yes. But would it also be safer to assume no matter how twisted up I felt, he didn't bother to bat so much as an eyelash? Yes.

       Before I can fully explain why I bothered to take the first of several rides on the virtual wild side with the all too dashing Nero... Perhaps I should explain more of the context? Society is awfully quick to give him a pat on the back for what we did, and even quicker to slut shame me for it.

       I was in seventh grade when I first discovered there is an inexplicable temptation for people to lash out or act out online in ways they never would in person. At that point it was merely some demeaning and racist comments about me from a classmate, and I kept my head down per usual and tried to just avoid chatting with anyone who wasn't really my friend. I was in eighth grade when a supposed friend had the audacity to verbally attack me with such lack of restraint, she could hardly look me in the eye- and even when she did- things were never the same. Something in my brain warped at that point, and no amount of therapy seems to be able to fully correct it. The gist of the glitch is- I became a talking in person kind of person. There seems to be something about firing off a rant in writing that is somewhat easier for people to do, yet it can be so much harder to try to atone for and/or take back. I don't take it lightly.

       When Nero made his grand entrance into my minimal excuse for a virtual life... My friends figured the fact that I was actually interested must have made him a unicorn... But something in me blared the alarms immediately and I was absolutely right in the end... Nero was nothing but another donkey, pun intended- who was shameless enough to dress himself up perfectly and sincerely sell himself as the stuff you can only dream of... I had just finally escaped an awful relationship- so while it might be easy to confuse Nero for a mental rebound- rest assured, friends... Nero was a recharge.

       Nero was the kind of a guy who helped remind me of exactly why I started to play the Tinder game in the first place years ago... The catch is he nearly made me forget a long the way.

       I warned him not to tease a tease, I warned him he was playing with fire and he was going to get burned, I warned him us talking was a double-edged sword he eventually would impale himself on... Nothing deterred that next little bit of bait he would throw that seemed to be specially tailored for me- because I had met my match in more ways than one. He was a troll hall of famer who could actually keep up, and I knew it would be unsportsmanlike for me to forfeit before I truly had my fill.