One of My Many Tinder Stories…

I’m on the phone with some chick I met on Tinder. At some point of our conversation, she tells me that one time, some dude came on her hair at a nightclub ‘at the speed of cum’.

I don’t know what that meant, but I knew what had to be done: Take this girl out on a date, she’s a winner.

So, I asked her out for dinner and asked her to wear some huge hoop earrings… cause I like that shit.

Anyway I go to Long Beach, some beach town on the south shore of Long Island, and I meet up with her at some seafood restaurant. She shows up–sexy as fuck–with her tits hangin outa her romper and hoop earrings down to her shoulders. Not a bad start, I thought.

We sit down and she says, “You look vegetarian… are you vegetarian?”

I guess I wasn’t jacked up enough for this girl. That’s fine. I can still make this work.

Anyway, I told via text that I was sober and she told me she’ll obviously not drink, even though I told her “I don’t care.”

She says, “okay fine I’ll take a sangria,” then tells me she likes crazy dudes.

I say, “I’m crazy.”

She takes a sip of her sangria and it’s already halfway gone.

She says, “can I call you daddy?”

I say, “yeah, you like that typa shit?”

We’re just playfully kidding around… So I thought.

She says, “I’m crazier than you, I’ll burn your apartment down.”

I say, “I’ll burn yours down.”

She says, “you’ll never see my apartment.”

I say, “depends on how much sangria you have.”

She orders another sangria… I was happy about that.

“You don’t mind, right?”

I say, “no, the drunker you are, the better.”

All fun and games until I realize she’s gettin a bit too feisty and starts drinkin really fast. I start wondering if maybe this chick is too crazy…

At some point in the next five minutes, she calls me a little bitch, but I thought it was playfully.

“Little bitch.”

I say she’s being cunty, but playfully, I swear… That was a mistake.

She says, “now I’m pissed.”

I say, “me too,” but I’m joking; she’s not.

Maybe I crossed the line?

She takes another sip of sangria and says, “No, like I’m pissed.”

I can’t tell if she’s serious cause we been fuckin around for like thirty minutes.

“Are you really?”

“Like I might leave.”

I laugh.

“You think this is funny?”


“I’m going to the bathroom.”

She puts on her sunglasses. Is this chick leaving? She heads to the bathroom and I’m very confused. She comes back five minutes later on her phone.

“You know I was kidding right?”


Uh oh…


“No no, I said you were being cunty, but like, I was only kidding. Didn’t you call me a vegetarian little bitch ten times or whatever?”


Her accent comes out. Now I know it’s real.  So I say, “I mean you can leave if you want.”

“I think I will.”

She adjusts her clown-sized sunglasses. Jeez her tits are perfect… Then she gets up and leaves in front of the entire beach bar. Mini scene. There’re mussels and quesadillas on the table. I grab some waiter who’s not my waiter and in a whisper I say, “GET ME THE FUCK OUTA HERE.”

“I got you…”, he gets the situation.

Man that chick was hot… that fuckin romper and those hoops and her tits and–The waiter comes back and says, “One minute.”



“Can I take all this to go?”

“Even the mussels?”

“Can I take mussels to go? Will they go bad?”

“I don’t know, they might.”

I start thinking… am I going home? Or to the cigar lounge?  That’s where me and my buddies hang out sometimes… If I go smoke a cigar, they might go bad.

“Nah just the quesadillas,” I tell him.

“Okay…” and he clears the table.

The waitress–our original waitress–comes by and drops the check. She gives me a horrid smile, diverts eye contact, and then leaves awkwardly. 

I pay the sixty fuckin dollars and leave with my quesadillas.

But no mussels.

The end.

If you like this shit… Here’s a story about my ex-girlfriend

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