#some of those lines were an attempt on my fucking life i stg
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can you believe palamedes and ianthe played modified twenty questions and i suffered as if i was being slowly murdered
#some of those lines were an attempt on my fucking life i stg#palamedes sextus#palamedes the sixth#ianthe the first#ianthe tridentarius#prince ianthe naberius#the unwanted guest#the locked tomb series#tlt series#tlt spoilers#tamsyn muir
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If you followed me recently for That post about US imperialism...
Since that post seems to have died out for now, I feel it’s finally time to address some things. A ton of people started following me from That post going viral. I want to warn anyone new that this is not a politics blog.
I post about politics pretty often, but it’s above all a personal blog. If you followed me to get a charge-free political science class or some shit like that then you’re out of luck. I’m not a walking lesson. My life, thoughts and emotions aren’t a learning experience or case study for anyone. I’m a human being.
Now, some warnings:
I’m a man-hating dyke, this is an unironic misandry zone. I really fucking hate men and I’m not and will never be apologetic about that. If you think that this somehow excludes oppressed men you’re wrong lol (I’m looking at you, gay and bi dudes). I don’t wish men oppression because I don’t wish that on anybody even if I hate them. I’m not gonna be automatically rude to men as individuals unprovoked, but I ABSOLUTELY will if I’m given reason to do so, and I will not filter out my words whenever I whine about how much I fucking hate men in general. Got it? Good.
White women are insufferable too tbh.
Also speaking of men AND white people, please read the first fucking line of my very short description. It’s right there, for fuck’s sake. White women or otherwise white non-men, this includes you. I stg I’ve rarely had moc follow me since I put that in my description but a ton of white bitches seem to think that “men OR whites” = white MEN. No, baby. It means you girlies and gentlethems too. <3
I’m not too found of body-abled people or allistics either! Also of doctors and shrinks.
Specifically when it comes to psychiatry and psychology, I’m anti-psych/mad pride. No, I don’t think all the issues that psychiatry and psychology often poorly attempt to address are “fake”. Come on, I have many of those Issues myself and I’ve seen real human suffering by multitudes. It’s much more complex than believing none of those things are real. Click here if you want more details on my views on this.
Wlwoc, twoc and disabled woc are the people I prioritize most of all, lesbians in particular when it comes to wlwoc, but I do NOT tolerate biphobia, as I don’t with transphobia and transmisogyny either (as much as I’ll admit I’m not infallible with any of those because I’m not part of any of the affected groups*, but I do try). All of that said, I do not give passes to people for lesbophobia. I have done it in the past in specific situations, but not anymore. I don’t care who you are or what your intentions were. I’m sick and tired of it.
I don’t take kindly to people sexualizing me without my explicit consent. I don’t want to ever receive comments about my tits or whatever EVEN IF YOU’RE A WLW OR A GAY MAN. Call me pretty and shit like that if you want, but if you cross this boundary I’m cussing you out and blocking you immediately. The only person in the world who has my consent to sexualize me is my fiancé. I’ve had this happen to me too many times and I’m TIRED of it.
I’m extremely whiny. Complaining is one of my major hobbies. It’s an art. I’ve mastered it through the years. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I can get really annoying when giving my Opinions and like, I’m a multiple Scorpio with a lot of Virgo and some relevant Aquarius so I’m a highly opinionated bitch. I’m the personification of “AND ANOTHER THING...!”
I rant a lot even when I’m not being a pissbaby! I’m a VERY silent autistic offline and, as I’ve mentioned in recent posts, my brain NEVER shuts up so in turn I don’t ever shut the fuck up online because I infodump and vent everything I don’t out loud in here! Among many other things, I often rant about interests the majority of the population doesn’t share with me. I will, in particular, post often about goth music and the goth subculture in general. I mean, I don’t get why anyone would be surprised about that after taking a look at my blog for 0.1 seconds, but I HAVE, incredibly, been unfollowed for Goth On Main Crimes. Also I’m not kidding when I say that this is me when I’m talking about music:
Also astrology. I like astrology a lot and I’m also that picture ^ when it comes to infodumping and theorizing around astrology. I do it a lot less now than I used to a while ago though.
Sometimes I post VERY triggering content. I try to TW as appropriately as possible while dealing with brain fog, but keep that in mind. This includes when I vent about my personal life, feelings and trauma. I don’t filter myself much on that end and that includes talking about csa and other forms of sexual abuse/assault, lesbophobia, allistic abuse, peer abuse (”bullying”) and suicide.
I use the words “cunt”, “slut” and “bitch” very liberally, in case you couldn’t tell on your own yet. Reason for that: I’m Chilean. If that bothers you, the door is wide open.
If we’re not friends or at least mutuals and I haven’t asked for advice, please refrain. Unless you’re being rude or inappropriate I won’t attack you or anything, but it makes me uncomfortable.
English is my second language and I’m developmentally disabled and brain fogged from my chronic illness, so prepare for me sometimes messing up grammar and all that. Hell, I do it in Spanish too when it gets bad enough.
I practice what I can most accessibly (if begrudgingly) describe as “witchcraft”. I don’t talk about it often here but I do from time to time. Jic, I’m not pagan.
*I’m not cis, I’m a non-binary lesbian. However, I’m still a TME lesbian at that and I don’t think MY experiences are materially comparable to those of trans people (including non-binary ones), so I choose, individually, not to identify as trans. This by no means implies that I think non-binary people aren’t trans or that I have any place to decide who among us gets to identify as trans or not, including non-binary people who’re similar to me. This is all only about how I feel about myself.
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Hummus
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Making lunch for your picnic, Bucky doesn’t expect much out of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He is very wrong.
Warnings: set in Wakanda, infinity war never freaking happened, so much fluff I stg, one sexual innuendo
Word Count: 2,027
A/N: if you voted earlier this week for Bucky discovering hummus, here it is! (re-uploaded because my tumblr got deleted)
Hot fingers ran along the skin of your ankle, feeling for the delicate bones that gave it shape. You felt most at ease watching him innocently feel you. He did it everywhere his hand could reach.
Seeing Bucky rediscover you, what it meant to be human again, was as wholesome as it got. That boy really did deserve the whole world.
Just a small touch reassured Bucky for hours. Even if you were just grazing shoulders, it soothed him. After he came out of cryofreeze, physical contact became essential to Bucky’s well being. He needed it.
He wrapped his hand around your ankle, pulling you closer, and putting your feet between his thighs.
Your attempt to suppress a smile failed when he shot you that famously cheeky grin.
Bucky had you almost swaddled in the blanket you kept on his couch to prevent you from complaining how cold it was. If he had a nickel for every time you asked for his jacket, he could buy a penthouse in Manhattan. It didn’t help that the two of you had just been in the lake. Having wet hair only added to your ongoing problem.
You developed the habit of putting your cold hands and feet on him, so much so that Bucky just gave in and embraced it.
This had become a ritual of yours when you visited him in Wakanda. At first it was just for a weekend, and then for a week. Right now you were going on about a month of your stay with him. You’d wake up early, lie around the house, tend to his goats when you needed to, have small picnics, and enjoy the life inside the hidden country.
Early morning was his favorite. Getting to watch in awe as you woke up; not having to worry about losing sleep with a numb arm underneath you since he didn’t have one. Those dimly lit hours when no one was awake and he could take you to the vast body of water where he bathed under the pink hue of the sky.
The sun would still be coming up and it was practically dark out. Bucky got to spend quiet, intimate time with you, sharing soft kisses as you both tried to wake up. You helped him wash his hair and make sure he didn’t step in too deep.
“This one?” you pointed to the small hut adjacent to the water.
Bucky nodded, putting his hair back up in a lopsided bun as he led you in. Bending to fit in the doorway, he handed you a towel and grabbed one for himself. The king had been so gracious to him; giving him a bigger apartment style house for when he got visitors.
The towel was tied around him, covering the one arm. You were impressed. He could do so much with just the one.
Water droplets scattered his legs as he stepped toward you, creating puddles in his path, “I’m in love with you.” He nuzzled into your side and let you hold him, all relaxed and clean.
“Get dressed, Buck, you don’t live on a farm,” you joked.
The damp man only smirked, “You know I do live on a farm, Y/N? You’re not funny. I’ve been bracing myself for that one.”
You playfully hit his chest, “Steve or Sam?”
“Both.”
~~~
He only lay half covered by the blanket, your feet tucked in his lap, fitting comfortably between you and the back of the couch without his left arm. Bucky was his own heatsource and there wasn’t anything worse than that thick blanket you always got him in; only for him to come out from under it with his skin in flames.
You compromised this way. Tangled together, breathing each other’s air, you engulfed in your blanket, and Bucky sprawled out beside you. This was your day to day with him. When your soldier had come out of cryo, T’Challa insisted he take it easy.
Instead of weapons, Bucky got goats. And when you visited, he got even more than that.
“I don’t like this show,” you yawned, kicking lightly against Bucky’s thigh.
The man groaned and leaned further into you, his hair tickling your neck, “Nothing good is ever on.”
The loose tendrils would be in your fingers by then had your arms not been confined within the blanket, “You gotta get the remote, Bucky.”
Blue eyes crinkled up at you and laughed, realizing you couldn’t change the channel. The one-armed man pushed on your leg to let you know he was getting up. You’d become accustomed to the help Bucky needed without both arms, letting him use your leg as a prop so he could sit up.
He crouched down to retrieve the remote and stood for a solid six minutes, flipping through channels and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Come lay back down,” you whined playfully, unsure if he’d just forgotten to sit once the remote was off of the floor.
Stray hairs hugged his face and he blew them away, “M’gonna make lunch. Did you get more groceries?”
You nodded, admiring the way Bucky rolled up the sleeve on his left arm. He was a bit shy going into the city; his comfortability being within his hut and surrounded by those living nearby.
“What?” he backtracked his steps so he could lean over you. You wiggled one arm free to take the side of his face in your hand, thumb caressing the beard he’d grown out. Traveling down to his shoulder, you held the metal piece where his arm would be.
“I love you too. I’m happy you’re comfortable with me.”
Bucky glanced at where your hand was on the metal shoulder and put his hand over yours, “Y/N I have no reason to be ashamed.” He pecked your upside down face and laughed as you scrunched your nose, “If you keep being cute like that I might not end up making us lunch for later.”
You rolled your eyes and hid your face, “It’s too early for that.”
The hungry man stood back up, “It’s never too early to show some good appreciation, doll.”
“Oh hush.”
He laughed to himself and made way for the kitchen. Picnics by the beach had become more frequent with the two of you. Twice a week you took turns making lunch and preparing a basket. Bucky pulled his shawl further down, “Do peanut butter and jelly sandwiches sound alright?”
You gave a hum from the living room and he cherished the memory of how his mother would make him and his sisters peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch everyday. He grew sick of them but craved it at the moment; not having one in about seventy years.
Bucky opened the refrigerator, reaching for the strawberry and grape jellies, almost hitting his head on the shelf. Confusion took over his expression, eliciting him to mutter, “What?”
The cold jars were set on the tabletop and he turned back to the fridge. There was no way you’d put the peanut butter in there. Didn’t it go in the pantry?
A short laugh escaped him, shaking his head he pulled out the container. You did odd things sometimes, like put milk in the cabinet on accident. He shrugged his shoulders and grabbed the bread.
Bread was one of the most difficult of tasks to complete with only one arm. The twist tie angered him so much once that he just used scissors to cut open the plastic wrap. His bread went stale very quickly that week.
Four slices were placed neatly on the counter and Bucky grabbed a knife to spread the jelly. You both enjoyed each of the flavors so he started spreading with strawberry and moved down to grape.
The jars were returned to their rightful spots in the fridge and Bucky lifted the lid on the peanut butter.
He looked up at where you were on the couch watching the tv and looked back down to his favorite childhood snack, “Alright then.”
Sticking the knife in his mouth, Bucky sucked the jelly from the knife and put it into the new spread. It was surprisingly easier to scoop than he remembered. Creamy peanut butter must have a different meaning in the twenty-first century than it did in the forties. It didn’t have that honey scent to it either.
Bucky put knife to bread and was relieved when it went on so smoothly. He hadn’t made peanut butter sandwiches in a long time and was happy he didn’t have to ask for your assistance. Peanut butter used to be much tougher to distribute without tearing the bread and with one arm it would’ve been even worse.
The lid made a snap when he closed it up, prompting you to turn over on the couch, ready to help him with the rest.
Mirroring his earlier actions, the knife went back into his mouth.
You heard Bucky’s gag echo throughout the room. His face was all bent out of shape, waving the knife around and tossing it into the sink, “What the fuck!?” He repeatedly stuck out his tongue and shook his head.
“What happened?” you unwrapped yourself from the blanket and tried to stifle your giggles at the faces he was making, almost tripping on your way into the kitchen.
“You’re peanut butter is expired,” he griped, looking upsettingly disappointed in what he’d just eaten, the lines in his forehead more present than ever.
The poor man’s bun had fallen loose and he was struggling with the cloth wrapped around his torso. You went behind him to close the refrigerator door and then took his hair down, fixing it for him. “I bought it Monday Bucky, there’s no way it’s expired already.”
He huffed and stood up straighter for you to tie a new knot in his cloth, “Well it tastes awful. Don’t buy that brand again.”
You walked over to the pantry and pulled out the unopened jar of peanut butter. The lid said it wouldn’t expire for another three months.
“Buck?”
“What?” he asked, moping about the bread he thought he’d just wasted.
“What brand of peanut butter did you use?” you bit the inside of your cheek, almost certain of what he’d used instead.
Bucky ran the water in the sink and cleaned off the knife he used, “Humoose? I don’t know.” He went to open the fridge door again and pulled it out for you to see.
When he faced you he realized what had happened. You held the brand new jar of peanut butter in your hand, “That would be hummus, Bucky.”
“What the fuck is hummus?”
~~~
Somehow you’d managed to pack your basket in time for lunch. Needless to say, there was a small mess in the kitchen and Bucky had forgotten his shoes. He was fine until you got on the hot sand.
He stood in the grass until you put the beach blanket down and you could throw him your shoes. Bucky looked like the most out of place person there with his expensive sunglasses and sandals he could barely squeeze into. Breadstick, the goat, was following him as well, hopeful to find her favorite snack in the basket.
The tiniest goat had very forcefully worked her way into Bucky’s heart after continuously stealing his snacks for when he was working.
She bleated only once and minded her own business after being tossed broken up pieces of a breadstick.
You helped Bucky pull out the food, keeping your drinks in the cooler bag, and lay it all out on the blanket. Bucky rushed to open the bag of pita bread, ignoring the sandwiches he’d made earlier.
“Y/N.”
“What?” your hummus and jelly sandwich filling your mouth.
Your super soldier wiped away the crumbs on your face, “Hummus me.”
You complied, opening the container for him and handing him the knife. The hummus was half gone the next time you looked over, almost regretting that he now loved it. Bucky ate everything you bought and then some. You were just glad he was gaining his weight back.
“You know, these sandwiches are pretty alright too, Buck.”
Breadstick made herself known again, helping the man finish what was left of your hummus.
“Good girl.”
PERMANENT TAGS:
@saharzek / @just-add-butter / @jitterbuck / @strawberrybucky / @laurfangirl424 / @bestbebucky / @sweetboybucky / @aletheladyinred / @impalaimages / @pizzarollpatrol / @lokigodofsasss / @xxashy999xx / @finecelle / @buckyofthemyscira / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @maefisher2003 / @lolabean1998 / @yenneffersstuff / @fabtasticass / @booksmarvelandfanfic / @crazybutconfidentaf / @piensa-bonito / @chinalois / @siriuslyimmoony / @marvelous-avengers / @queenofkings121/ @gravedollie666 / @thesassmisstress / @givemethatgold / @teh-nerdette / @sebbysimblr
BUCKY TAGS:
@notimetoblog / @spxder-bxck / @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety / @burningcoffeetimetravel / @cauraphernelia / @sebstanwintersoldier27 / @trashpanda-barnes / @tranquility-or-chaos / @vulcanaeris / @formerlythewintersoldier / @existingovertherainbow / @pokeloisfk
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes x you#bucky fluff#bucky barnes#bucky#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x you#hummus#rei writes#buckyforbreakfast
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Dating App Conundrums
Alright so I’ve been planning to do this for a while, and may make a thing out of it just to chronicle the adventure from single to hopefully not, but who knows.
Basically I decided to research a few dating apps and try them out, since I’m the type of person who’s content to stay home, but also only likes going out with a friend or small group (not alone) - therefore my chances of meeting people are probably in the negatives without dating services like the ones I’m currently on.
This post will probably end up being both a review of some of these apps as well as a master shitpost detailing the adventures of a straight female attempting to find a straight male to date online. And I know Tumblr well enough that at least half the people who read this will have yet another reason to be proud of their not straight orientation. Because good fucking lord the nonsense I’ve seen.
Storytime begins below the cut. This isn’t going to be short. That’s your warning. It will probably be funny at some points though. It’s funny to live it, at least. And I may break it into parts, Idk yet.
Let’s get a few things out of the way first.
Until this experiment, I’d never used dating apps ever. I knew of them. Hated them on principle (dislike them even more now, but we’ll get into that later) and wanted nothing to do with them. I knew a few people who were happily married to a Match.com or OKCupid match but aside from that – I’d never even downloaded Tinder like everyone else I knew in HS and college.
I haven’t actually dated anyone since my first semester of college. On purpose. I broke off my engagement to my elementary school sweetheart (thankfully we are still good friends and our friendship recovered from that near disaster) and I just wanted to focus on myself for a while.
The small handful of relationships I have had that lasted longer than 6 months taught me a lot about what I want in my ideal mate. The one or two less-than-6-months-barely-relationships I had in high school taught me A LOT about what I will never put up with from people.
My “type” isn’t reflective of my dating history. I’ve gotten to the point with these apps where I’m combining their shallow-indorsing metrics with my own personal preferences. Basically going through an aesthetic checklist then scanning through their profile to see if the actual person is equally pretty.
Spoiler, I have to swipe left A LOT.
I’m a very particular person. I’m very introverted and I hate when someone makes conversation harder than it has to be. I can hold a conversation. I just refuse to be the only one putting effort into it. (This makes more sense later)
I’m beyond fed up with dating app culture but my perfect or close enough to perfect guy has gotta exist so most of my accounts will remain I fucking guess.
I’m not necessarily looking for Mr. Forever. I’ll gladly keep him if I find him, but I’m also not looking for a relationship that I know will be temporary. I don’t do things by halves. I want something solid, whether it lasts forever or not depends on a lot of things.
I CAN’T EMOTIONALLY MULTITASK. I can really only give one person my full interest and attention at a time, which doesn’t bode well for these apps bc you gotta be able to bounce form one to the next no matter how excited you were about someone. These apps fucking suck.
Okay. Now let’s begin properly.
I started with Bumble. Yes. I know. Introverted female starting on a dating app that requires her to make the first move. That can’t go badly right.
I damn near have a panic attack every time I get a match I stg. Anyway.
I was skeptical at first. I’m not huge on people knowing a lot about me from the outset (or I wasn’t - i give so much less of a fuck now bc it makes almost no difference on these things) so my profile was pretty threadbare and cold. Now, a few weeks later, my profile is an efficient snapshot with a splash of Slytherin “Don’t fucking test me.”
Did I mention I’m an INTJ Scorpio? Yeah my entire approach is gonna scream that and my Hogwarts house, just you wait.
Round 1 ~ Bumble 🐝🍯
Okay so Bumble is interesting. For those who don’t know, it’s basically Beehive-Themed Tinder except for heterosexual couples, the lady has to initiate conversation. (Either party in a same sex match can message first) She has 24 hours from the point where her and a fella have “matched” to do so, then he has 24 hours to respond and seal the match – ending the time limits.
Bumble also gives you a rough estimate of how far away someone is sometimes. I’ve read articles about how bumble’s location estimate feature has ruined relationships forged through bumble and generally turned women into paranoid psychos over matches. Can. Fucking. Confirm. It’s the most annoying thing ever. Why?
Android vs Apple. That’s literally why.
The way Bumble’s location service is supposed to work is that everytime you open the app, it updates your location based on your phone or computer’s location. As far as I can tell, that’s exactly how it works on my android phone.
Apple users. Y’all are a problem. Not because I give a shit about your iPhone, I don’t give a shit do you ffs, but IOS location permissions can allow apps to update your location without the app being open.
Reread that for me.
Without. The app. Being. Open.
Which basically means if you match checks your profile, they can tell whether you’re where you were when they swiped right (say, 26 miles away) versus, oh idfk, a whole state or two away.
Real specific example I know. Why? Because I ended up unmatching a guy I REALLY wanted to get to know better because of it.
Though, to be fair, guys are really lax about how they behave on these apps in my opinion, which is a bigger problem than the stupid IOS setting.
Allow me to explain.
Dating App Etiquette
It barely exists, but it should. Here’s the thing. On these apps, you basically swipe right on a pretty face and left on one you’re not interested in waking up to in the morning or sitting on. I’m only being half funny here. I’m convinced people use dating apps more for hookups than their intended purpose. Which, whatever, but for fuck’s sake make BumbleHookup. There’s BumbleDating, DumbleFriends, and BumbleNetwork or whatever. Just make BumbleDTF so we can filter these people out already.
BACK TO THE SINFULLY ATTRACTIVE AND INTERESTING DUDE I UNMATCHED
I’m still kinda peeved about this. In part at myself, but also just in general.
Most people seem to treat Bumble like Tinder. They don’t fill out their profile hardly at all. Have less than 3 pictures, have pictures that make it unclear who’s profile it is, or – my least favorite thing that is almost 100% regional – THEY REALLY FUCKING THINK A PICTURE OF THEM IN SUNGLASSES HOLDING A FUCKING FISH THEY JUST CAUGHT IS ATTRACTIVE. IT IS NOT. THAT’S NOT WHAT THE PICTURES ARE FOR. JUST SAY YOU LIKE TO FISH IN YOUR FUCKING PROFILE BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO LOOK AT ONE MORE MOTHER FUCKING FISH-
I’ve seen a lot of fish in the last few weeks. Like. So many that I’m basically auto swiping left if someone’s profile has less than 4 pictures and one or more contains a stupid fucking fish.
LOOK AT MY FUCKING USERNAME. LITTLEMULATTOKITTEN. IF A SELF-IDENTIFYING CAT TRAPPED IN A HUMANS BODY SAYS THERE’S TOO MANY FUCKING FISH – THERE ARE TOO MANY MOTHER FUCKING FISH.
I can guarantee this won’t be my last fish rant. You don’t understand how many fucking fish I’ve seen.
BUT THIS GUY DIDN’T HAVE ANY FISH IN HIS PROFILE.
So he already had my fucking attention. He was also startlingly handsome – not in a oh you exist off puss and nothing else there’s no other way someone as pretty as you with a penis could exist – but like “Oh. I’d…really like to look at that forever and sit on it if you’ll let me please.”
NOT ONLY DID I FIND HIM THAT ATTRACTIVE BUT HE SWIPED RIGHT ON ME TOO AND READ ENOUGH OF MY PROFILE TO ASK ME A QUESTION FROM THE LOWER HALF OF IT.
I was freaking the fuck out excited.
And frankly the odds of him seeing this are so fucking low that I’ll go ahead and tell you some specifics about the short convo we had, but nothing that could lead anyone back to him obviously.
He’d lived in my home state. First thing he asked was which city I was from. Then he guessed, claiming that guess was based off a beanie I was wearing in my second to last (I think) image available on my profile.
He’d lived in my home CITY. Which means he was familiar with the CULTURE. And would probably GET ME MORE THAN MOST GUYS IN MY AREA.
He worked in an industry/field I knew about and had almost gone into myself.
He was so fucking attractive. I have yet to come across someone who checked ever preliminary shallow box on my want list.
Biceps. Listen. We’re all a little shallow. Biceps do to me what ass and tiddy do to some guys. It’s one of the few really fucking strong visual things I have, followed by dark hair and blue eyes. But he was something of a gym rat, for sure, and I’d gladly torture myself at the gym if that man was going to be in my line of sight at all during the process.
Seriously. I’ve never seen someone who didn’t look like they had to be famous or an alien that made me go “He’s so pretty I want to cry.” EVER. I WANT TO CRY THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE WE’RE NOT MATCHED ANYMORE.
And last but not least – like almost every fucking match I’ve ever made, I could count his replies on one hand before he went radio silent.
So, how does this relate to that location issue, you may ask.
Because I didn’t fucking know that Bumble could update your location on some devices without you opening the app.
There’s no online/activity indicator for Bumble except their location updating. Which, when you’re really excited to get to know someone and they suddenly vanish, but they’re more likely than not still online, you might start to feel like you’ve been put on hold.
Life stuff, yes, makes sense, I get it. But these apps have push notifications (which can be buggy) and if you’ve matched with someone, odds are you’re interested enough to check back on occasion (unless you aren’t). So it quickly became a worry game.
Because, like I said, I can’t just say “I’m excited about you, but I’ll keep browsing”. I don’t work that way. Unless I’m not excited about someone, then yeah I’ll keep scatter-shotting. But if I’m not excited to get to know someone why the fuck would I swipe right.
Anyway. After a few days of silence, I was disappointed and getting bitter and the few proverbial bones I’d thrown him had gone unanswered. I knew I was overthinking it and letting my own insecurities get to me a bit, but at the end of the day, there’s a few general courtesies that should exist in online dating culture that don’t.
Why people are afraid or hesitant to say they’re too busy to respond much in their profiles is beyond me. Some guys have the right idea announcing that they’re bad at checking the app and offering their snapchat or telling matches to ask for it.
But even if you’re testing the waters with another match, we’re all on this app for the same fucking reason. Say so. I’m not the kind of person who will need to, because I don’t operate that way on these apps, but I would. Because if that person is really bothered by you finding out if you’re more compatible with someone you matched with prior to them, that tells you something about them.
Would I have been disappointed if that had been the case with this guy? Yeah, kinda. I probably would have felt like his second choice at best, even if he’d come back to chatting with me. But that’s how these fucking apps are designed. Buckle up or unmatch. Fuck your emotions and self-esteem.
I unmatched for my sanity, because that happened a few days into this whole experiment and I wasn’t on any other sites yet. I wasn’t really prepared to deal with this whole thing yet and I didn’t know what to expect. I felt like shit and decided that if he showed up in my feed again, maybe I’d super swipe him (paid extra special right swipe that tells them you REALLY like their face and whatever) but I still don’t know what I’ll do if he does.
Lowkey hoping it was all a misunderstanding and whatever but like, not at all holding out for that because what are the fucking odds.
And again, my disappointment stems mostly from the fact that I was really excited to get to know him. The idea of finding someone on this stupid app in less than a week who wasn’t forcing his fish pictures in my face, would absolutely be the type of person to encourage my own wellness goals, and who was obviously smart because of his career path, was such an exciting thought. If we’d hit it off and gotten along really well, I’d have been so many levels of shocked and overwhelmingly happy that I just don’t know what I’d do.
When someone who looks like they’re 100% your type actually reads your profile and swipes right – you get excited. I was really excited. I’m still a little sad/disappointed, but I’m basically over it.
Other Misc. Things I’ve Learned On Bumble and other Dating Apps As a Relationship Seeking User
Take every profile with a grain of salt unless it’s so blatantly straightforward. And then still toss a pinch in.
The pretty pretty pretty buff boys who look like their players but their profiles claim they want a relationship? Odds are still players. They will try to convince you there’s 10 inches in their pants. They clearly aren’t smart enough to know that’s biologically uncomfortable for females and the best way to end up in the emergency room with a ruined cervix so don’t even swipe right. They’ll just ask for nudes.
People who use dating sites have some odd, hive mind fixation with The Office.
“Jim looking for his Pam” is in most profiles. I’m not sure why. References to The Office or mentions of The Office are about as common as all the stupid fucking fish.
I live in the wrong part of the country to find guys I’m actually going to share interests with. Just wait until I tell you about my experience so far on OK Cupid. I literally won’t find anyone where I live unless they’re from somewhere culturally similar to where I was born and are willing to move back with me. Because I am not fucking staying in the land of the god damn fish forever.
Most people don’t look at religion and politics like I do. Which is “You do you, I’ll do me, we won’t talk about it and we can peacefully do each other.” I don’t fucking care if your politics contradict mine if that’s the only thing we have not in common. Just make it a blacklisted subject and don’t let one frankly insignificant difference of opinion ruin an entire relationship or potential relationship. And same with religion. I’m not even a little religious. I don’t care if my future husband is unless it’s in my face constantly, he tries to “convert me”, get me to go to church with him, or some other blatant disrespect of my own religious standing. You worship whatever you want. I’ll right fanfiction about magic demon princes fucking their human-born demon queen every which way to Sunday. If religion is that big of a fucking deal for you, be upfront about it. Most people are in their bios. Either way, I’m really fucking sick of people who put too much weight into these two things like they actually decide how compatible you are with someone unless you let them.
I fucking hate fish.
Dating apps need more filters and ways to narrow down searches. 90% of the filters already present are shallow as all hell. What’s a few more.
Primarily let me filter out a few NAMES. This sounds super picky, but I have a really big family. 7 uncles. Over 20 cousins including the few cousins of mine who have kids. There’s a few names that would just be weird and awkward for me to associate with a significant other. If I could filter out my stepdad’s first name (which is disgustingly common but still), my biological father’s name, and a few of my uncle’s names, that’d be fucking swell. You already let me filter by religion and race. Let me filter out some fucking names damnit.
And there have to be people who have traumatic associations with names too like?????
The Office is a funny, good show and all but WHY IS EVERYONE ON THESE APPS FUCKING OBSESSED WITH IT THE WAY I’M OBSESSED WITH HARRY POTTER. I’VE SEEN IT. IT’S NOT **THAT** FUCKING FUNNY. SOMEONE EXPLAIN.
YOU HOLDING A DEAD FISH ISN’T FUCKING ATTRACTIVE SIR. THIS ISN’T THE SHAPE OF WATER. SHOW ME YOUR FACE NOT YOUR FISH.
The dating apps that are probably actually worth using all require a paid subscription.
There’s no real way to advertise that you find sex and physical intimacy very important in a relationship without making yourself sound like a cock-thirsty whore. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, you do you, but I’m looking for someone to be a slut FOR, I’m not one already and I dislike not being able to be upfront about that without being profiled or attracting fuckboys.
WHY CAN I NOT FILTER OUT PROFILES THAT CONTAIN IMAGES OF FISH
STOP WITH THE FUCKING FISH COUNTRY BOYS. ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A GIRLFRIEND OR SOMEONE TO KEEP TRACK OF YOUR TACKLEBOX? AND DON’T TELL ME THAT’S THE SAME THING, MY FAMILY IS COUNTRY. IT AIN’T THE SAME FUCKING THING. ALL THAT FISH TELLS ME IS THAT YOU’RE PROBABLY COMPENSATING FOR SOMETHING.
Judging by the few fish-fucks with their profiles filled out at all – they’re compensating for personality.
With how shallow the filters on these sites are, just go ahead and fucking add eye color, hair, etc. Seriously. If you’re gonna let me be shallow enough to only pick men of a certain ethnicity, and religion, you may as fucking well let me see if I can find a guy with blue eyes, biceps, dark hair, non religious, who doesn’t want kids without reading every fucking profile I come across.
There are way more guys on these sites who want or think they want children some day. This baffles me. But then again my primary reason for not wanting children is pregnancy and giving birth which wouldn’t be their problem so of course they want them.
I just need to auto left-swipe if I see a fish. These apps are shallow anyway. Do not make a fucking fishing joke just because I said shallow.
OK Cupid has a better matching system than Bumble and such, but it’s still irritating as all hell. You can’t choose question categories that are more important. So if I see a 91% match, but he has no sex questions filled out or our sexual compatibility is like…50%...that’s not REALLY a 91% match for me. Let me mark 2 or 3 question categories as priority for fucks sake.
The bulk of guys on these apps fall into 2 categories (for me anyway) – Not enough giveadamn to explain their presence on the site & thank u, next.
Online dating is disappointing as fuck.
I’m seriously going to lose my mind if I can’t get away from the fucking fish pictures. ENOUGH. I GET IT. I NEED TO MOVE.
Seriously – I. Need. To. Move. Back. Home. I am not meant for this part of the country. These good ole boys are meant for someone but it ain’t me and my family is fucking country. I’ve been fishing, ridden 4-wheelers, made shit out of wood for shits and giggles, helped my grandparents in the garden, eaten deer my grandfather or uncles hunted and prepared, helped chop wood, ridden in the bed of a truck, etc etc etc. But ya bitch has lifestyle goals that only include mud at scheduled times. We can go camping, but we should also go out to dinner sometimes and go clubbing or dancing other times.
I was not born with this ass to settle for a man who looks like an angel and acts like one too. Why is no one non-ironically blunt about their sexual preferences? You cannot convince me that the majority of men lack strong opinions on this subject. SERIOUSLY. IT IS 2019 NOT 1619. God DAMNIT. You’re on a DATING SITE. THAT’S AN ASPECT OF RELATIONSHIPS THAT CAN MAKE OR BREAK THEM. BE STRAIGHTFORWARD.
It’s not even actually about sharing every interest. I don’t give a shit if he doesn’t like Harry Potter much. If he’s annoyed by the level I like it, yeah that’s an issue. Otherwise, be supportive and kind about that kinda shit. That’s all I’m asking for. That’s how I am in return.
I make shit with yarn, write off the wall fanfiction, have a lot of sexual interests I don’t usually broadcast, and don’t understand how dating sites are still this ineffective in 2019.
This is super long already so I’m gonna save the other apps for a separate installment if this one is enjoyed or whatever. Jesus. These apps, guys.
Apps I still need to talk about that probably won’t require this many words each – Hinge, Coffee Meets Bagel, OkCupid (OkC might need a few thousand words).
I’ll probably look into some other niche dating sites too because at this point, what the fuck ever - I just wanna meet someone back home or willing to move back home with me who fits some reasonable criteria parameters. And I’m not even as picky as half the profiles I’ve seen, lemme tell ya. I’m just fucking opinionated. And beyond sick of this experiment already.
Sigh.
If I ever see a fish again it’ll be too soon. Bet the first profile picture on my bumble dash later will be another fucking fish though.
Those who expressed interest: @accio-echo | @infallibleangel | @aconitumluparia and those who liked are my followers so you’ll see it. This post is so long my browser is bugging out with tags or I’d tag you all too.
#kyla bitches about things#dating apps#the dating app experiment#Bumble#things dating app articles won't warn you about#dating app conundrums
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