Robbie Is Ready for Robbie-from-Tinder’s Tinder Date

A modern-day fumble.

Robbie turned up to Robbie-from-Tinder’s Tinder date.

Debbie turned up too.

Robbie told Debbie that he was Robbie-from-Tinder. Yes, really. Robbie was the owner of Robbie-from-Tinder’s Tinder account.

Debbie said that Robbie didn’t look like Robbie-from-Tinder though.

Robbie said that was because of Photoshop. He apologised! Robbie admitted that he was nowhere near as built as Robbie-from-Tinder.

Debbie had another Tinder date in an hour.

Robbie took this opportunity to tell Debbie something important she should know about Robbie, which was consistent with what she knew about Robbie-from-Tinder, which was that Robbie was waxed and ready! Because Robbie was honouring the promise that Robbie-from-Tinder’s body had made to his Tinder matches in the limited sense that Robbie was not a hairy guy, just like Robbie-from-Tinder wasn’t a hairy guy.

Debbie considered leaving and going to a bar and seeing if she could find a new Tinder match and perhaps fit in a quick Tinder date between this fucking imbecile and the next Tinder date she had fifty-six minutes from now.

Robbie, sensing failure, checked the following items off an imaginary clipboard:

Was Robbie waxed!?

Check!

Was he ready!?

Check!

Was he built?

Well, he was not as built as Robbie-from-Tinder, no, because Robbie had uploaded photos onto Tinder of Robbie’s head superimposed onto the body of a man that was a very built guy. But, at least Robbie was being honest about this, whereas could the same be said about Robbie-from-Tinder? No, because he was a liar.

Meanwhile Debbie noticed there was a new Tinder match approaching, and was less than a mile away. She and Robbie were standing near a bus stop. A bus came. Her new Tinder match was on it. She searched the faces at the bus glass, and thought fuck it, and swiped right on the new match, but unfortunately the bus was already leaving, and soon her Tinder match was more than a mile away.

This was the longest Tinder date Robbie had ever had. Robbie mentioned this.

Debbie choked back a little bit of vomit. Then however she decided to get over herself, and to transcend her Debbie-from-Tinder attitudes and just to be Debbie. So Debbie told Robbie that she didn’t mind that Robbie was not as built as Robbie-from-Tinder, because being built wasn’t the main thing Debbie was looking for in a life match, anyway, which funnily enough happened to be the same thing that was stated on Debbie-from-Tinder’s profile page even though in actuality Debbie only ever swiped right on built guys.

Debbie took a deep breath because this was a majorly vulnerable moment for her and it made her anxious. But then she remembered with relief that she had another Tinder date at five, and another at six, and that it was possible to fit in even more Tinder dates between now and then. So Debbie said “Fuck this” and started walking away.

Robbie said: “Okay, are we walking? Let’s walk!”

Debbie went up a very steep hill, quickly.

Robbie was impressed.

Debbie-from-Tinder and actual Debbie were gym junkies. They were both fit.

Robbie-from-Tinder went to the gym nine times a week and wore a great deal of tight exercise clothing in photos, but Robbie had never exercised a day in his life, and the only sweat inducing thing he’d ever done was get an all over body wax just a few hours ago that had fucking nearly killed him.

Debbie hailed a cab.

Robbie ran out of breath and fell over. “Great date,” he said. Then Robbie moaned and had a heart attack and died.

Debbie’s cab driver was on Tinder. Debbie had a look at his profile.

An ambulance came for Robbie while at the same time Robbie-from-Tinder’s profile became extremely popular and received nearly a thousand swipe rights. Robbie was unable to be resuscitated.

Debbie swiped right on the cabbie.