OPEN LETTERS
An Open Letter To All the Women Who Ghosted Me on Tinder
Boo!
Dear Ghosts,
I’m scared.
We swiped, matched, exchanged messages, and then — you cut the line.
Did something happen?
Or are you the UBER-EXAMPLE of ENTITLED women asking men to make all the efforts while giving nothing in return?!
I sincerely hope nothing bad happened. Were it the case, I wish you a prompt recovery and the best of luck for the way ahead.
If nothing happened and you’re just another entitled GHOST, there’s something I would like to tell you.
Yes. You owe me an answer
I’m not talking about the countless women who didn’t answer my witty icebreakers. That shows bad taste in humor, but that’s ok. I can live with that.
Sort of.
The ones that owe me an answer are the women with whom I exchanged meaningful messages. We talked about our life experiences. We agreed online dating can be hard for whining men like me.
We had deep conversations.
We had a connection.
We were slowly creating a WE.
We didn’t talk about the weather (cloudy with a chance of dick pics); we talked about our deepest soul-searching life-altering questions.
We agreed on the crucial questions like what comes first, cereals or milk? (milk) We agreed on the small details that make all the fun in life, like do we want more kids or not. (more cats)
And then, you stopped answering
WHY?
WHY?
WHY?
It can’t be for the shallow reason I lied about my height. Not you. You said you didn’t care. You said you would date as low as 5'9, and I’m 5'1. It’s not so different. Both start with 5.
It’s true, I’m not a hedge-fund manager making 11 figures per month, but you said money and status weren’t important to you (?). You said you would swipe right on me even if I were living in my mom’s basement eating pizzas I paid with my unemployment benefits.
Is it because you don’t like Hawaiian pizza?
(These are real pizzas, you know?)
Or is it because I used my cousin’s pictures? The one who’s a model for Calvin Klein?
Don’t worry!!
It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just that I hadn’t brushed my hair the day I created my profile, and that made me a bit insecure about my self-image. That’s why I used pictures from cousin Calvin.
But we look almost the same, we’re cousins! (He’s only slightly more fit. But that’s just because he keeps stealing the pineapples from my pizzas.)
After you stopped answering, I reached out
I made the first step and re-sent my last message. Maybe you deleted it inadvertently again?
(I think there’s something wrong with your phone. You might want to check.)
Nothing.
I made the second step and sent you a new message, witty and brainy, the way you would write them (if you could).
Still nothing.
What did you want me to do?
There are only so many steps I can take without getting anything in return, you know?
Relationships are transactional!
I can buy you flowers and hoover the floor, but then I’m expecting reciprocations, and I’m not talking about a thank you, honey. It should be more carnal than that. I want to see some boobs!
There! I said it.
It’s the same on Tinder
I can send you mind-blowing quotes and inventive texts to satisfy your sapiosexual instincts, but I expect something in return, namely, a REPLY.
So, dear entitled women that ghosted me on Tinder, please stop ghosting. It’s hurting.
Ghostingly yours,
A ghosted Tinder user
Ps: Also, the women I super like owe me an answer. Super likes aren’t for free, you know? It’s $1.99 for the first two super likes, but after you have to buy a super like package. I took the 100 super likes at $49.99 and regretted it. BIG mistake. Seeing that you, women, ghost me all the time, I should have bought the 999 super likes for $119.99 only. You live, you learn, eh?
Smillew is a writer, a tweeter, and a serial masturbator. He also enjoys yoga and meditation. Some he does well, some not so well, but he still tries them all.