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A Hormonal Narrative

A Hormonal Narrative: How to Utilise Internet Dating

I’d always condemned internet dating until recently. I was very closed minded on the subject and feared that if I was to open my mind, my whole brain would depart my cranium with uncertainty, in a prolonged and highly uncomfortable manner. Interestingly, all that happened was I signed up to Tinder. I gave it a little go and used it as a platform to advertise my blogs and get some attention. As a result, WordPress has been notifying me that my stats are “booming”, and my ego certainly is.

I’d been starting to think that I was a bit rubbish again lately but now I’ve stopped again. I already knew if I put on enough make up and digitally enhanced some photos of my face with some canine features that an ample portion of the sexually driven community would be willing to engage with me but what I wanted to achieve was for the presumably small minority of respectable human beings on the app to take the time to read a bit of my blog, tell me they like it and maybe say I have a nice face too.

As well as discovering a larger portion of the community to be reasonable people than I’d expected, I’ve received an inundation of compliments regarding my humour and ability to write and that has filled me with joy. It turns out that the capability of attracting half-naked disproportionate men who document photographic evidence of themselves orally exchanging bodily fluid with an actual dog (presumably in some, apparently successful but nonetheless pitiful, attempt at psychologically manipulating impressionable girls into believing that they have a sensitive side to complement their ability to lift the equivalent of seven horses in the gym) isn’t necessarily required in order to engage in conversation with people from the internet dating scene.

This is really great news for me. I don’t even care if any of the compliments have only been made for the purposes of gaining easy access. If they think I’m susceptible to that, they’re bang wrong. I will not be banging them but nor will I be banging my head against a brick wall anymore, saying “I AM NOT GOOD ENOUGH. I HATE MY PARENTS. WHY DID THEY MAKE ME THIS WAY?!?!”. Instead I will be saying “You two did an exceptional job of conceiving me, especially without the use of Tinder to assist with your initial union”. Then I’d probably make them a cup of tea and some curry or something and go to my room.

Laura Tulip

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