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Crumpling your bus ticket up in your palm, you slowly exhale the frustration of an extremely long, painful night. Perhaps it was premature to say that you would never go on another date again, but you certainly considered putting an indefinite halt to your midnight escapades to meet potential suitors.
It had started out okay! He was punctual, attractive, and smelt really good. Small talk was limited, launching into interesting conversations about his job as a bouncer at one of the trendy club venues in the city. An hour in you were convinced that maybe he would be the one to break your man-fast.
That was until he started lifting his phone off the tabletop. You could excuse the first time, what if it was important? The second time was a little irritating. By the fifth time, along with a rather politically-charged comment about your outfit of choice, you'd excused yourself to the bathroom and snuck out of the back door, leaving him to pay the bill.
It didn't necessarily come as a surprise to you that the date was a flop. Randomly messaging the first match in your tinder direct messages for a date because the handsome stranger on the public transport to work had left you feeling a little hot under the proverbial collar wasn't the greatest way to ease the ache that settled between your thighs whenever you saw him sat at the back of the busy bus.
Lifting your phone out of your handbag, you note the rather excessive ten notification you'd received on your tinder app. Refusing to even give the misogynistic prick another second of your time, you skip opening the app to read the vitriol he had no doubt flooded your chat with and delete it from your apps altogether before throwing it back into your bag that you had set on the seat beside you.
