Trying

I'm fucking trying over here. I'm trying.

Trying to get over most of my turn offs and deal breakers, the superficial ones—at least. Trying to talk and go on dates with men I normally wouldn't be interested in. Trying to give the guy a chance, give him the benefit of the doubt and see what he's all about.

It's not working very well. I still like what I like and I still love the familiar.

I don't want to explain what Trap music is and why I enjoy it so much. I'd rather have you send me a Flosstradamus mix and we'll call it a day.

I don't want to hear you order a vodka soda or make a face while we do a shot of Jameson. Man the fuck up. I can drink the smokiest scotch NEAT. Laphroaig / Lagavulin / Caol Ila

I don't want to make hip hop references and leave you lost. Motherfuckers never loved us. #WORST

I don't want to be the only one with (good) tattoos. Why does that fascinate you so much? It has come up on every single one of my first dates. I get it. It gives you a reason to touch my skin. HAH. I see you…

Most of the time its obvious that the only thing we have in common is that we both swiped right. You can’t create chemistry on attraction alone, and I’m not out here exhausting myself dating just for hook-ups.

Every so often someone reassures me: “He exists,” they say. “The dude for you. He exists.”

Maybe he’s just not on Tinder… Probably not, right? IDK, we'll see. I'm still trying.

Then again, maybe I'm not supposed to try.