Tinder in the city

As a serial uninstaller of tinder I should have known better. I'm not sure whether it was the rehash of cuffing season following my one-week summer in the Dominican or the sudden realization that even the most single of my friends have broken solidarity, but I was back online. I have to admit that after two horrifying dates and even more horrifying text conversations, I wasn't looking to date/sleep with/ talk to anyone again. I think a part of me, a large one, has long given up on the prospect of finding someone I will ever be interested in physically, much less emotionally in this city. However, the part of me that was hopped up on Love Actually and the Holiday decided to troll tinder yet again for any shred of hope of at least finding someone who would interest me in 3 pictures and 100 characters.

I found Daniel Henney's long-lost twin, but much too fit. I swore off men with countable ab muscles a long time ago because of my deeply invested relationship with food. But I decided to swipe right in any case- no one says no to a Daniel Henney type.

Not even two replies from me later he says "I'm bored at work, let's cuddle instead."
Me: "Nice try."
He admits to his failed attempt, and after half an hour of me not replying he insists again that we "hang out".
Dubbing myself the mother Theresa of Tinderdom, I decided that this year is the year I graciously help sad men get their act together. I told him his approach was far too desperate and that he should play it cool from the beginning. "Why?" He asks, "If you're just going to say no anyway, what does it matter if I'm subtle or not?"
Oh men, oh how clueless you are. Women love the chase just as much, if not more. There's nothing sexier than withholding.
He proceeds to launch into the ever-more seductive I-didn't-mean-it-anyway tirade. I was help up at work and wasn't going to come over he says.
"You just assumed that I meant sex and hanging out at your place and then lectured me."
Apparently my generous intentions did not translate well over text.
"Dude it's not that serious."
"Meet me downtown later" he insists still.
At this point, having given up on my hopeless tutee, I decide to see if he had learnt anything from this conversation at all.
"Sure, my place?"
"Your address?" Apparently, he had not.I laughed and closed the conversation.After an hour he messaged me his number asking me to text him.

I hope the real Daniel Henney is a little less transparent.

with love,
D