Plenty of Fish
So I woke up this morning after my Friday night in and there were a few new messages in my plenty of fish inbox. Oooh goody, it’s like having a virtual assistant that works for you in India whilst you sleep. Maybe this time my plenty of fish experience wouldn’t be so bad. I mean it’s for the book so I can justify it as research and not take it so personally when some don’t respond or say something so stupid like “I love black girls.”
But then POF and I broke up years ago. It was after a particularly traumatic conversation with a guy who couldn’t remember that we had spoken before. He then berated me for not keeping in touch and being interested. Huh? Yes I was in conversation with those whose glass is cracked. It’s not easy.
Yes there are plenty of fish but these are fish that either want to devour you or don’t know what they want. I’m glad to see that they now have a sex personals section as I’m tired of saying no, I don’t want you to make an excuse to your wife about working in London. That will mean you will have to stay over and…hold on why am I even considering it!
Then I clicked on the first one. At first I thought it was a picture of his butt. Original if not a little creepy is what I thought but no, as I clicked on his profile I realised it was a shirtless picture of him reclining with the biggest pectoral muscles ever. Hmmmm, this was his profile picture? I wasn’t convinced but maybe the message would sway me that we were indeed a match. I opened it
This isn’t a message dude it’s a typo. I don’t think I can take much more of this
© Chelsea Black