swipe

Account created my curiosity was just so that I would think about it a lot but use it very seldom. It still felt wrong. So casual and flippant, urging you to judge people by the glimpse you were afforded of their appearance or personality.

Unable to help myself I would judge people for their choice of pose or camera-angle, on a small biological quirk, the prominence of their features, on the small details in the background, the untidiness of a bedroom reflected in a mirror, or how intimidating their friends look.

I would cringe for them, and then myself, knowing that someone is making these same judgements about me. Now that my profile was live it could be happening at any given moment. As I wake up someone is repelled by the size of my eyebrows, jumping in the shower someone mocks me to a crowd of peers about how deranged I sound in my description, as I drift through the ennui of my new single life, someone I know dissects my profile, taking screengrabs and sharing it with everyone else I know, laughing together, all of them in unison, all before I’ve even had my fucking breakfast.

In an effort to restore some balance, and wishfully create some karmic reciprocity, I would pay respect to each profile, give each person the time and consideration before swiping them away. But still, swiping. So churlish a gesture. If only I could bow an apology to those I don’t see a connection with – this could only be facilitated by the fingertips of prayer-met hands pressing against the screen, dragged down and over as I dip my head and deliver a compliment about the way they wear the hair or something.

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