Digital Love

Everyone knows that Tinder is nothing more than a mass of losers in profound despair, facing loneliness by searching something as easy as sex in a mobile app. Everyone knows, but no one gives a shit.

And who am I to give a shit? Here I am, smoking a cigarette, after having wild sex with Sasha Grey, played with some elegancy by my loyal right hand.

The smoke slithers above my head while I swipe through the app’s Likes and Nopes in the empty hope of a real fuck tonight.


Her name’s Pamela, less than a mile away. I swipe through her pictures, all showing her in a bikini that would make my Sasha blush.

“Pamela was a famous groupie.” I say right away.

“LOL! I wish I was Des Barres.” She types back.

Her knowledge of 60’s rock history makes me even hornier than her revealing bikini. If that’s even possible.

“I saw that you live nearby.” I risk.

She doesn’t hesitate before giving me her full address.

“I can even walk there.” I tease.

“So come.” She answers with a wink emoji.

“Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink first?”

“No, but I’ll let you bring the beer.”

I ring the bell. She answers wearing only her panties and a men’s shirt. A lit joint rests between her fingers. Her smile has a naïve naughtiness that drives me insane.

“Is it cool if I smoke here?” I ask examining her vinyl collection while she puts the beer in the fridge.

“I’d rather if you didn’t. You’re even cuter in person and I don’t wanna wait you to finish.”

She comes towards me and I smile while putting the cigarette back in the pack.

I wake up with her poking my ribs.

“Good morning to you too.” I mumble sitting up on bed, trying to beat the weariness.

“Is gonna be by cash or card, cutie?” She asks while getting dressed.


“Why am I not surprise?” I ask myself.

“Too easy, huh big boy?” She says laughing.

I nod and frown at the same time.


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