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” The following day, when he texted me and asked me how my day was going, I didn’t beat around the bush.I told him I was fine but that I had been thinking about things and didn’t want to pursue it any further. Fresh out of a two-and-a-half year relationship, I had quickly found myself in a pattern of mine that I recognized.As I got home and crawled into bed, I groaned at the time glaring back at me in bright orange from my alarm clock.

” Invoking the well-known 2009 Zooey Deschanel rom com, I casually added a tongue-in-cheek hashtag: #100Daysof Summer.I loved the validating comments I got from friends on Finsta, and so Instagram became a place where I felt more comfortable being vulnerable.My Finsta tendencies slowly started to bleed over into my public Instagram page, and I started to subtly give my followers a sense that I had perhaps become a little too addicted to what had started out as an academic fascination with Tinder.He responded fairly well, and we went our separate ways. Having almost always had a partner, I tended to fill the single void with endless swiping on Tinder and fruitless exchanges of text messages.After countless bad hookups, I’m not sure what it was about this particular orgasmless experience that caused me to be fed up, but fed up I was. Tuesday, but I also turned around and immediately cancelled dates with Mr. Before I knew it, I had so many conversations going that I couldn’t even place a name with a late-night “wyd.” As soon as I took a minute to look up from what I was doing, I didn’t even understand how I had gotten here.

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