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Say you have the perfect Tinder profile. You have the sexy shirtless photo, the sweet picture of you and your grandmother, and that one shot where your jaw looks really chiseled and presidential. She pulled up their conversation on her phone. I was confused: Both of my friends are funny, energetic talkers. But I could see that their rapport on Tinder was, in fact, mehhhh. Tinder banter is way harder than real-life flirting, but with these six tips you, too, can become a master of chit-chat. Nice try.

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I lived most of my life in Vladivostok, in Russia. The first time I had a boyfriend or a girlfriend — it was a boy — I sat with him by the park. So this was hard. My life was nice there, but not for hiding this big side of me from my mother. I needed to get far away to have the life I want.

I used to go on the internet and look at the style, fashion, music… I came across this documentary of these alternative couples. This couple, I just love them so much. They were beautiful people, they were interesting; they had interesting ideas, they were funny and they were laughing together.

I loved them. I want to be with this guy and this girl. Elena: When I met you I was not disappointed, I was more pleased. It was just right. Elena: I was really excited. The house was a very nice, little house. Sidore: I was really nervous. I was way more nervous than when first met Davecat, because when I first met Davecat it was really straightforward. This kind of felt a bit more of a big deal. Elena: Thank you… Thank you very much!

When did he actually find out? Elena: I was sitting in his bed. I sat in his bed, ready, and you got me all dressed up. Sidore: He came into the kitchen, and he was like — because he had to go to work. She was sitting in the bed. Hi, Davecat! I said to Davecat how much I was so impressed with him and how much I love Sidore, and he could see that I fancied you.

Sidore: He was immediately onboard. He could definitely see that we were all gonna have a good time, and I think that probably helped. Sidore: I think the only time we all had to all kind of be honest with each other was perhaps when it was our wedding anniversary, and that brought a bit of stuff up to the surface; I think we all dealt with it pretty well. Elena: No, it was not fair. You were very kind to me and I understand, it was your wedding anniversary.

Sometimes I can feel a little bit jealous of you guys… And maybe he feels jealous of us some of the time. Davecat: Yeah. I had run across that term. Shi-Chan had actually seen it on her Tumblr dashboard. Hierarchical polyamory is basically when you have a relationship that incorporates more than two people, in our context. It was like Elena, Davecat and Sidore are all in love with each other.

Elena will always be my second. That was the whole reason of why Elena agreed to stay with us. And are you exclusive among the three of you, or does Lenka go outside the threesome, or how does that work? Lenka, for the most part, is just devoted to the two of us. Who sleeps with who, and when? How does that all work? Elena: …alternatively. She has very, as you can see, loose joints. Yeah, sure.

Her fingers are actually kind of broken at this point, because the wires that they use in the fingers are not as strong as they could be, because they got broken at the base plate in her hand, which is right here, if you put your hand right here. I remember distinctly being in the second or third grade. My teacher, Ms. They detail all sorts of whacky stuff about Howard Hughes, the pyramids, the Winchester Mystery House, that sort of thing.

They had one segment where they were talking about a humanoid robot that was made in Japan. This roboticist named Shoichi Mizuno had made a gynoid version — or more like an automaton — or Marilyn Monroe. Now, a gynoid is technically what you would call a female robot. Later, atchoo-atchoo-atchoo! The first time that I learned about Abyss Creations would have been My best friend Montelli, who had known that I had been fascinated by gynoids, she was at work one day and stumbled across the Abyss Creations website.

It was love at first sight. Alas with pale skin, brown eyes, red hair, black stockings, black stilettos and upper length gloves. So many wheels were set in motion that day. Best money I ever spent. I undid each screw, undid the padlock, pulled the door open… There was like a sheet of semi-translucent plastic; I cut the plastic away.

Artificial, of course. I was basically immobile for like two minutes, because I was so taken with her beauty. I did lean in and I was just gazing into her eyes, and then I kissed her. But they feel like organic lips. I managed to get her in my arms, managed to get her up the steps and put her on the futon in my room.

This is awesome. I gotta go to work. Your idea of that person is suddenly going to be thrown to the wayside of running into what that person actually is. There have been no complaints. Again, for my own mind, but there is no doubt. Are you exclusive among the three of you, or does Lenka go outside the threesome? How does that work? She does want a doll of her own… We basically stick to each other. My dolls are real to me, because again, I define real as being anything that you can perceive with any of your senses.

I think that is entirely true. Yes, my father does know about my idollator proclivities. The thing is, he does not like it at all. At all. I remember distinctly the very first time I had brought him around to the flat that Sidore and I got back in Dad did a right out of there as soon as he saw her.

He has gone on record as thinking of the whole concept of dolls as disgusting. My mom passed away in Mon was actually surprisingly tolerant. She ultimately did say that she would rather have me be with an organic woman, but if this is what makes you happy, then go for it. There was one time when her mother — grandma — came to town from down South. When grandma came over the second time, Shi-Chan was seated on the floor right next to this DVD rack, wearing a blouse, a skirt and some stockings.

Underneath the shell my ice cream was already melting. I could track him through the house like that, like a hurt animal, something leaking and in pain. Maybe I have leprosy. In bed that night I was careful of the gangrene. Leo fell asleep right after but it took me awhile. We had the ceiling fan going and the windows open. The crickets were chirping the way they did all summer, a long low buzz like power lines, and the dogs were suffering in the heat.

They call out and I can turn over and not hear them, not even a bit. I read about a meth lab bust and a church swap sale on the front page while Leo circled ads with a red pen. I grew up in Webb City, but with Mouse in St. Like a Sunday School teacher, Leo said, and it was strange to hear something like that come out of him as a compliment.

Leo was wearing khaki pants and a long-sleeved shirt that covered his tattoo but was too hot for the weather. He already had sweat stains under his arms. We sat in the van with the air conditioning on while Leo started calling houses on his cell phone. Hounds, Labs, retrievers, too, either purebred or close enough so you can tell the breed without squinting.

Not even a package, a single stick. Mouse and I had decided we wanted to make chocolate chip cookies. We found a recipe on an index card in the kitchen but none of the ingredients. One eighth of a teaspoon baking soda. At the grocery store we took baking soda and baking powder off the shelf, looked both ways for clerks, opened the containers, and tapped out a few spoonfuls into the tubs.

We were doing the same thing with a tin of cinnamon in the spice aisle when a woman confronted us, a lady with a cart full of food like kids would eat, fruit snacks and Hi-C. The woman looked at us in our old shorts and stained t-shirts and you could watch her feeling sorry for us, deciding to let us keep right on stealing. I let Mouse put two eggs and the stick of butter in her purse after she promised to be careful with them.

The next morning, Mouse and I were eating some of our cookies for breakfast when Mom came home. She put some bread in the toaster and opened the fridge. You steal, you steal something worth taking. I still steal small. Not things other people want, or things that are worth a lot. I just take what I need. The house was a nice little ranch, painted white with geraniums in the window boxes.

Leo rang the doorbell and then stepped back so we were standing side by side. The woman who came to the door had an armful of brown cardboard boxes, so Leo kept it short. About the dog. Leo Tillet. We were shown to the couch in the living room, which was full of boxes labeled Estate Sale, and Rubbish, and Keep, and Kids Might Want???

I could feel Leo smile. Death lingers on a dog. Families want rid of it. Sidore and the dog she brought in, which even I could tell was a poodle, purebred or pretty close, a little gray around the muzzle but spry enough. Good with people, too; he asked all the right questions, about health conditions, about how much exercise old Muffy needed, whether she could be let off a leash. Sidore said. Sidore get them. I held the dog on my lap as we drove away.

On the next block we stopped and Leo unlocked the back of the van. He has kennel space for six dogs back there. We locked Muffy into a cage with a dish of water and one of the toys from her box, and Leo checked the next house on his list against his map. Mouse and I, our neighbor growing up was Mr. Martin, who had a house just like ours except that ours was yellow and his was green.

Offer the customers a wide selection, he kept saying, lining couches up along his driveway and across his front yard until his entire property was covered over like a furniture store, chairs in one corner, desks in another, big appliances, like an old fridge with a bright chrome handle, back by his garage. He seemed to do okay. People came and hauled some stuff away, or shook on something and promised to be back later for it.

The next weekend, though, he still had half a Goodwill store spread out over his lawn. That weekend it rained, and in the morning all the furniture was soaking. Mouse and I balanced on the backs of the couches, knocking each other off onto the cushions and listening to the squelch.

Pools of water rose up in perfect footprints where we stepped, and the beginning of a smell, damp and lush, was just beginning to curl up from the upholstery. Martin chased us off that morning and stood for a while on his lawn, reaching his right arm up over his head to scratch at the back of his neck. Martin seemed settled on doing. He gave up trying to run us off, and in winter we made snow forts out of the sofas, pelted each other with secret stores of snowballs hidden under chairs and in desk drawers.

The furniture was wet and moldering, the wood splitting with rot, the cushions mildewing. A pair of raccoons had started a den underneath a loveseat, and a skunk had a nest of babies under a recliner. Mouse and I would jump onto the loveseat, both together, on the count of three. When our feet pounded the springs the raccoons would shriek and shoot out. We played hide and seek, and once Mouse accidentally locked herself in the old fridge, but I found her and let her out.

One family Leo and I visited that Sunday had already placed their dog. A few more were playing coy, taking our information and giving us the third degree. We picked up a chocolate Labrador from a couple who was moving to a one-bedroom apartment in Kansas City in a week. An English terrier from an old woman whose family was putting her in a nursing home.

The tea was in white china cups, and you could look down inside and see the cookie dissolving, settling in a thick layer across the bottom. She kissed Leo on the cheek when he took the terrier into his arms. The summer Mouse locked herself in the fridge was the summer Mr. Martin started locking himself out of his garage. Martin said. She just shrugged and went to her room, and it was a long time before I could make her come out. It was late afternoon, and we thought people might be sitting down to Sunday dinner, so Leo swung by the Neosho County Animal Impoundment Facility.

You came prepared. Leo picked out two, a boxer mix and a pinscher mix. Once the van started up, though, the new dogs howled and barked and rattled around. I spied on her and found out that she got them from Mr. Martin as thanks for unlocking his garage door from the inside, which she seemed to have to do a lot those days, and I wondered if Mr. Martin was much older than he looked and was getting to be the forgetful kind of crazy that old people got to be.

I asked her if the next time Mr. We were driving back through Webb City to get on the highway, heading home for the day, when I saw the Found Dog sign. It probably ran away and some poor family is tearing their hair out looking for it. A lot of cash. Jorgen told me at the market in Lamar that Parke-Davis needs Dalmatians. They want to test an eye medication. Something to do with all the genetic blindness in the breed.

They want sighted ones, too.

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