Tinder [Poem] by Noel Negele

It got that bad
and so I got on Tinder
after being turned down
by maybe five or fifteen
girls, drunk in bars
I’d hit on them with what I thought
were good opening lines
and some would talk for a few minutes
before retreating because I guess I drank
too much, or talked too much, or touched too much
or maybe I’m just not that pretty
or interesting—
I kinda suspect all of the above. And so on Tinder
I matched with this girl
who catfished me

we met and here comes this
large and wide girl
obese by all standards
and I acted as if I didn’t even notice
because I was lonely of course
and because I pitied her

she was so stressed and anxious
and I could tell it was a big deal
for her gathering all the courage

to meet me
and I respected that
and we kissed and she kissed well
but the cellulite on her inner thighs was
monstrous

and when we went to her apartment
it smelled like she had pets
but she didn’t have any pets

and we exchanged books,
her 144 pages long “Hell” by Barbusse
against my 1104 pages long “Infinite Jest” by Wallace

two shy souls peaking at each other on a midnight
through private, unshared fondness

and fucking her was like
fucking a hillock of flesh
and she smelled bad because she got all sweaty
and I don’t know how much good of a person 
you think you are
but you are not as good as having a fragile
overweight girl’s armpit accidentally mask your face
while you are turning her with the same difficulty
you’d turn a beached whale
and still maintain a hard on
just for her
just for her tight pussy that so desperately needs to feel
like a normal and desired woman
and as her sweat still drips from your nose
you go on for 20 minutes 
of courageous and altruistic fucking
just so you can make someone happy.

When I left her house
I still had her taste in my mouth
and I puked my guts out on a broken pavement
and then again outside my house.

No more Tinder for this guy.

Published by mistyrampart

Freelancer, poet, dreamer

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