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A few swipes in, I saw her. Her age was what initially caught my attention, 47, but her bio gave me no choice but to swipe right. For the purposes of this story, we’ll call her “Mary.”
It started as a regular day. I made it to work right on time, sporting a Starbucks coffee in my hand (I’m gold status now) and hazy memories from the night before in my mind. Meandering through my day, I noted to myself that this Friday had been particularly mundane, with no discernible qualities to differentiate it from past weeks. As I returned from my lunch break and made my way to the bathroom, I decided to see what the various dating apps I’m active on had to offer. After all, it was Friday, and I was looking for some more lucky ladies to drunkenly message post-midnight after striking out at the bar this weekend to try and make some magic happen. Tinder didn’t have too much too offer, so I switched over to old reliable – Bumble.
That’s when Mary’s profile popped up on my screen. “That’s strange,” I thought to myself, noting that the first few words in her profile stated that she was married and a business professional. I made the assumption that she was just a regular run of the mill working woman who was tired of her husband and looking for some fun on the side. While I don’t condone this behavior in any way shape or form, the rest of her bio suggested the possibility of a highly-entertaining conversation. I swiped right knowing that if I got a match I would already be in over my head, as this was not the standard millennial girl’s profile. There was no mention of wine, Netflix, traveling, only being here to see the dog I don’t have, only being here for free meals, and certainly no mention of not looking for hookups. It rapidly became apparent that I was dealing with a professional. This woman meant business.
The rest of her profile informed me of her true motives. Mary was seeking some fun (we all know what the means) outside of her marriage and work. She supposedly likes to have lots of fun, she’s open (we’ll get to that later), but she’s also a tough cookie. Mary here is not your standard woman searching for infidelity, she likes to make the rules and take charge. Oh, and she’s not looking for just me. What Mary really wanted was a devil’s threesome with two dudes not including her husband.
After reading her tantalizing bio, I nearly prayed that I would get the match, knowing the ensuing conversation would provide the perfect entertainment to get me through the rest of my day. I patiently worked through the menial tasks I had to complete for the rest of the day, when all of the sudden my phone lit up. “You have a new connection,” “Mary has sent you a message.” Excitement overtook me and my FitBit showed my heart rate at an elevated 85 beats per minute. I swiped to open the message and was emasculated nearly on the spot.
“Hey there, little guy! How are you doing?”
Ouch. Still reeling from her demeaning opener, I managed to collect myself and hit her with a “Better now 😉 just finishing up at work for the day. How are you?” A few minutes passed while I anticipated what response she would come back with.
A disappointing response, but I wasn’t ready to quit just yet. I knew that there was gold in here somewhere, so I kept pushing. I asked her if she had plans tonight and she told me she was getting drinks with friends. Mary then followed up with a double text (she doesn’t play by our millennial rules) asking me what my plans were.
At this point I didn’t just want, I needed this to get weird. I’d already invested too much time and effort sending screenshots of her bio and conversation to my group text for commentary, and I was searching for the payoff. I informed Mary that I didn’t have any plans yet, but that I was open to suggestions. Finally, after some polite banter back and forth I got the response I was looking for.
“Kinkiest thing you have done?”
Yes, Mary! Right on cue and completely unprovoked! I coyly responded that, “All you need to know is that I’m up for anything, you?” Writers note: I am most certainly not up for anything, but I needed to see how far this would go. Within seconds, she responded not asking, but telling me “I asked you a question. Now answer.”
I’m not going to lie, the quick response with her demand rattled me. I was visibly and mentally shook. I reached out to my friends for suggestions, but their propositions of “Tell her you work in a morgue and fuck the bodies like in Westworld” and “Tell her you’re really into pegging” were promptly ignored.
I nervously decided to settle with a meek “Probably role playing, bdsm, and threesomes (I wish), you?” Mary swiftly replied with an absolutely knockout answer, stating that she once had a devil’s threesome with two Boston Bruins. My friends who are also Boston sports fans practically begged me to ask for names, but I knew there was more to get out of this conversation. I politely informed her that “I’m sure we could top that.” At this point, one of my more perceptive friends who likely doesn’t spend his time messaging middle-aged women about their sexual history proposed that this was probably some dude in Russia just passing the time, and that I was being cat fished. While possible, especially with Mary’s follow-up asking for nudes, I decided to forego that conclusion in the search of more amusement.
I dismissed Mary’s request for naked photos, telling her that “I’m more of an in-person kind of guy.” A couple of minutes passed before she classily responded with a resounding, “BOOOOOOOO” and followed up by asking if I was bisexual. I eloquently informed her that I was a heterosexual male by messaging “Nah, straight.”
With that, I never heard from Mary again. Like the dew on a summer morning, she vanished. I’ll never know if she was real, or if she was just another fake profile messing with people on Bumble. I like to think she’s real, and that she found someone out there who could give her that male, male, female threesome outside of marriage that she so desperately desired. For now, I’ll take solace in the fact that the conversation made the back-half of my workday fly by, and that millennials aren’t the only ones who like to get a little freaky. .
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