He's Irish, and needs a wife.
I'm a psychologist, and I absolutely don't need a husband. Ever.
I'm quite content to go on a date, have an orgasm, or two if he knows what he's doing, and be on my merry way.
Just not with Shea.
Sounds simple, right?
Wrong. On every level.
I think he's arrogant, and he thinks I'm crazy.
I think he's in trouble, and he thinks a dating app is the answer.
Whatever floats his boat, I guess.
Unfortunately, I develop a penchant for studying him, and now, he has a penchant for irritating me. I don't understand half the things that come out of his mouth - I'm not stupid, he just has an accent - and he ignores almost everything that comes out of mine, especially when I'm telling him to leave me alone. I thought my push-back was stronger, but it's no match for his determination. And he invalidates my theory that it's impossible to lose your mind. Because when I see that one little line on his dating profile, that's exactly what happens. I lose my mind. Or maybe he blows my mind in bed, I'm not sure. Either way, I come to hate the idea of him marrying a stranger on an app, and offer to be his solution instead. Sure, we're compatible in bed, but even I know that's not enough to sustain any kind of relationship, and that falling in love doesn't just happen. Wrong again.
Maybe he is better off marrying a BumbleF*CK.
Or maybe, I've just met my match.
