Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
I startled giggling too even as Monica scrolled down to reveal four more pictures of her English teacher. Yup, there was the same guy rock-climbing. There was another one of him hiking in Yosemite, the scenery gorgeous, and then the last one made me laugh because the old dude had posted a selfie with his shirt off. It wasn’t terrible although he didn’t have a six pack.
I started sputtering with mirth.
“Well at least he has a nice chest from all that outdoor activity,” I said. “It’s not bad for someone who must be at least fifty.”
“Not just fifty,” said Monica. “Probably around sixty and with a wife and two kids too!”
“Oh shit,” I breathed, my eyes aghast. “OMG, he’s married? Ugh,” I said, twisting my mouth into a knot. “That’s why I hate on-line dating.”
Monica nodded knowingly.
“Yeah, Mr. Smith was married to Ms. Tannen, our vice principal,” she said. “At least as far as I know. Maybe they got divorced or they’re separated now. Who knows?” she said shrugging her shoulders.
I just shook my head. Wow, things can get shady on-line. I frowned.
“Mony,” I said, “what is there that prevents people from lying? I mean, I could take your pictures and upload them and pretend to be you, right? Who’s doing quality assurance on this thing?”
Monica was silent.
“I never really thought about it,” she said slowly. “I guess it’s so easy. Swipe right, swipe left. It goes so fast it’s like a game. But as to honesty? I don’t know,” she said, shrugging again. “Maybe the site does some, but I don’t think so because I uploaded my profile in about two seconds.”
That was it exactly. Back to the axe murderer question. I could be a convicted felon, and no one would know.
Yet Monica had a point. It was so fun to swipe right and left, not to mention crazy addictive too. My thumb was going to get a work out. Plus, Matchy has a proximity feature where you can choose to only view people within a certain geographic radius. As a result, it wasn’t like you were checking out folks who lived in Siberia or the Yukon. Instead, it was a little too close, if you ask me.
But suddenly Monica squealed.
“Oh my god, this guy is so hot! Check it out! Look at those abs.”
I sighed. Personally, I find bathroom selfie shots really tacky. It’s lame to get out of the shower, preen in front of the mirror, and then get out your phone to record it all. It’s narcissistic and unnecessary, and utterly ridiculous in its self-absorption.
But as Monica turned her phone towards me, I gasped because the man on the screen was one hundred percent pure masculinity. The photo was cropped at his waist, but he had bronzed skin, broad shoulders and a defined six pack. His eyes were a pure steel blue, and his black hair reflected light. Plus, his photo wasn’t a bathroom selfie either. Evidently, he was a swimmer, judging from the goggles strapped to his forehead.
My friend whined.
“Why doesn’t the pic go any lower?” she whined, laughing while complaining. “I want to see what’s in that Speedo!”
My friend was so funny because obviously she wanted to see the size of his package. Frankly, I’d love a peek too. After all, swimmers are usually tall, and this guy looked like he could be about six four. Did he have the gun below to match?
“I think he cropped the picture there on purpose,” I said with a wry smile. “If he’d shown that, he’d be guaranteed a million matches based on size alone.”
But Monica was already flicking through his other pics, gasping with awe, her tongue practically hanging out. I peered over her shoulder and my breath caught as well because the man was one hundred percent gorgeous. Blue eyed and charming, he had a smile like a Crest advertisement. Come to think of it, he even looked a little familiar, but I shook my head no. There was no way I’d forget meeting someone like this.
But the guy kept getting better and better as more photos flashed before our eyes. He looked scrumptious in shorts and a t-shirt, and was dapper in a suit, the navy blue off-setting his deep tan and dimples. This was a man to break my heart, but all of sudden my friend swiped left, rejecting him.
“What? Why did you do that?” I sputtered. “He was so hot! Don’t you want to at least see if you match?”
Monica shook her head regretfully.
“That’s the thing, Janie. He was too hot. I heard that there are decoys on this site because the company wants you to think that there are a ton of good-looking people on the prowl, all looking for a match, and so they set up fake profiles. It’s part of the business,” she said, shrugging, “I mean, I’d do it too if I wanted to promote my dating website.”