Jason had made a Tinder profile on a whim. He'd just woken up one day and thought he should make one. Like, just to see what would happen! No other reason. It wasn't like he was desperate or anything. No, no. Not him. Tim might be desperate, but Jason? Jason was just doing it for the memes. That was what he'd told himself, anyway.

In reality, an embarrassing amount of time had gone into making his profile just right. He'd gone over his photos multiple times, cursed himself for only having awful photos, taken better photos, decided they were also awful, agonized over recruiting help with taking photos, decided against it, watched hours of videos on how to take selfies and not look like he had five chins, and finally taken some photos that looked half-decent. Anyway. Embarrassing. But finally, he was ready. He was gonna do this thing.

His first few matches had been unsuccessful, to say the least. Clearly people in his area just didn't have good taste. That had to be it. But, you know, for science, he'd swapped a few photos around. Purely out of scientific curiosity. Him staring at his phone going "please please please" had also been out of...something that wasn't desperation. Like, uh, like...a stoic and manly reason he was going to think of later.

Today, he swiped right on someone cute. Instant match. Oh man. Okay, he had to nail the opener this time, and not be lame like every other time (there hadn't been that many). He just had to say something cool. Something great. Something perfect—

"So, that dude who dresses up like an oversized bat. What a loser, right?" he messaged, then immediately regretted messaging, running a hand down his face with a groan. How was he so bad at this?