Tinder Thots Tuesday: Hola señoritas!
Updated: May 29
Hey hornballs, welcome back to another addition of Tinder Thots Tuesday, the longest episodic Tinder Blog on the internet (don't fact check that). It feels like I just wrote last weeks blog yesterday, but we're in a rat race wit no true end in sight, and I've lost all the optimism I had last week. It's a damn shame that I can't even embarrass myself by drinking too much tequila tonight in an attempt to culturally appropriate the Mexican culture in the most sincere way possible. Instead, I'm a college kid stuck at home eating arrachera with my parents. Not bad, but I'd still rather be sucking Corona's down than fearing it. The last time Corona kept me cooped up like this is was because it gave me a case of the brown bottle flu, not the risk of a deadly virus. And considering I failed an online exam last night and have to take a final because of it on next Monday, I'd be celebrating tonight like I just took down the French Empire. Instead? I'll be giving my dick the ole 619 followed by a spring board Frog Splash, because there's no kicking out of that.
But I digress. If you're new here, feel free to read up on what we've done in the past, and if YOU have any Tinder Bios you'd like to see featured in the blog, DM them to me on Twitter @The1nnKeeper_
Some people like cats more than dogs and that's something I'll come to terms with eventually. Usually I'd go off on a tangent about how preposterous it is to love your cat more than America, but then I read Kelly eats her fries last. Eating fries last, what kind of point are you trying to prove, that you have self-control? If that's the case, what do you do on the drive home, just sit and enjoy the smells of your $7 1,500 calorie meal? Anyone with half a brain knows you order 2 fries- one for the drive home and one for the meal. Maybe that's one of the reasons I weighed 225 pounds at one point, but if you're rolling with fast food, you may as well go all in.
If were talking getting fries when you're at a sit-down restaurant, are you not putting fries on your sandwich? I understand that in America we have freedom of expression, but if you're trying to express that you're different by voluntarily minimizing your dining experience, you don't deserve the same right's as I do. Sorry if that offends.
Just another example of the unrealistic standards woman have for a man's body, and you'd think in the year 2020, where it looks like we're not making it out alive, they'd lower their standards a bit. As someone who is 5'10 and was having growing pains the other night for the first time in 4 years, I feel for all of the short kings in the world. However, if those growing pains amount to anything, I'm back to simping for Marissa by all means necessary. But until then, I'm ridiculing her for considering herself a dancer when it's quite obvious she was referring to the Tik Tok username in her bio. I can renegade just as hard as you, Marisa but you won't catch me out here trying to knock Addison Rae down from her throne.
Storytime! A few months ago, I had a friends older sister tell me out of the blue that her nipples are pierced, and the majority of girls in college do as well. I was caught off guard by this for a few reasons. One- why was my buddies sister letting me know her nips are pierced and two have I really seen that few pairs of tits to not run into a pierced set in the wild?
And if you weren't able to tell by that exchange, I am not good at picking up on obvious social cues in situations such as my buddy's older sister telling me she has pierced nipples and that's probably the reason I haven't came across a set (literally).
Hear me out.... I'm not advocating for prostitution in slightest, but if Jesus himself was banging them, I can make some exceptions. Sidney is 22 on the verge of graduating college, and in these times a college graduate has to make some money some how. I have absolutely no idea what an average rate for a lady of the night is, but I'd ave to imagine there's some kinky mother fucker living in is Mom's basement somewhere that's more than willing to wire a few grand from is Mom's account to his in order to make it happen. Obviously it's not going to the magical and explosive experience you drew up inside your head, but it wouldn't have been anyways. Think of it like getting your Trudeau bucks if those were a thing.
And I'd be remiss to not include this, my typical message I send to a match looks something like this:
Hook, line and sinker. So bad it's good, and the absurdity of it almost ensures as long as they respond to the first message. I've only had one young lady respond yes to the message, and she was worried I was anti-semitic and at that point I didn't feel like debating Israel and Palestine, but the horniness gets the best of you some times. But today, I was Trojan Horse'd:
I still haven't replied because I'm so caught off guard, but I think my only option is to drop to a knee and propose because this is as close to my brain I've ever come across in the wild. I'm not exactly positive how chromosomes and all that shit works, but I'd have to assume this means my kids would ave the same brain as me, because I'm not sure what I'd do without a son who won't want to watch Korean Baseball on at 1 AM on ESPN with me. Will report back if I end up marrying her.