I once matched with a girl whose name was “Nazu”. Our back-and-forth was essentially a text-based roleplay; she would use asterisks to denote her character’s actions, which I thought was pretty weird and probably a red flag, but who cares right? Everyone’s a bit strange and if this was her way of weeding out unimaginative Johns, then I don’t mind playing along.
As Tinder is linked to Facebook accounts, my name is displayed in Chinese pictographs—mainly because I don’t want people to find me on Facebook. So she goes ahead and drops a fairly racist remark and I promptly let her know that it’s offensive before heading off to bed.
Next morning, she invites me out to coffee. This woman is dressed like mallgoth fashion never died—trench coat, sneakers, and camisole that yells “I’m not wearing a bra.” She’s carrying a chess board. We share a cigarette outside the diner and as we’re seated, she informs me about the game that she wants to play with me:
In this particular chess game, each piece taken is worth either a question (to be answered in total honesty) or a request that the opponent must carry out by a week’s notice. The more the piece is worth, the more private the question can be, the more significant the request can be. In the event that my king is placed in checkmate, I must take her out on a second date to a place that has emotional significance. In the even that her king is placed in checkmate, I can ask her to do anything. Sex is heavily implied by her body language when she says this—she takes a long, dramatic sip of her Dr. Pepper and bats her lashes, plays with the straps of her camisole after.
As we play, she tells me random bits about herself unsolicited: she has an IQ of 175 (total lie), moved out to Los Angeles to pursue an acting/modeling career (not surprised), and is a DD cup.
I purposefully lose the game which simultaneously frustrates and arouses her, apparently because every past guy she’s played the game with has tried to win for sexual favors. We go on a second date, where she changes in my car right after I pick her up (wtf???), quips that culture does not exist while we dine at a Japanese restaurant, and asks me to choke her while I’m driving, before ultimately admitting that she has a worship complex and wants me to kiss the very ground she walks on.
Nope.
