Honest Johns

They look like job applications, she thought as she scrolled past the dating profiles, one at a many. Every ounce of social capital, real or imaginary, scrambled together in an effort to impress whomstsoever. Some were stylized using the tools of some trade or another; others were barely cobbled together. Not a single one of them, she guessed, were honest.

And then it happened. The unsolicited. Given her current mood, she almost appreciated the unrelenting directness of it all. No pretense, just the ding-an-sich.

Still. Report and block. Some dishonesty is worth the price of admission. But only when admitted.

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