English short stories, English versions

Swiping game

It was the first day after my 31st birthday. I was on my way from San Sebastian. The bus was driving slowly and the rain made me feel good. If I would have seen myself from aside I would have said I looked like one of those sad girls on the bus, looking through the windows as the rain was pouring.

I loved being in the North of Spain, the Basque Country was one of the most spectacular places I have ever been and for some reason it made me feel like home, a different type of home where you can have a fresh start and enjoy life without complications.

Softly splashing water droplets hit the bus windows as we drive onwards. The skies were overhung with a blanket of grey, so much that I could barely tell the difference between the sky and the clouds. Despite the fact that a long drive in the bus makes me feel tedious, the rain commonly calms me so I just watched the raindrops race down to the window.


It was on hour drive till Pamplona and for some reason, I felt that I could enjoy my time using my brainless and my inner desires more. I was not in desperate need of sex, but I would have enjoyed a warm body over mine or under me that would have tried to please me in so many ways.  I opened the one dating app that I had in my phone and just started swiping left. A hobby I recently discovered. It was fun to use a dating app to get to know what kind of people surround you without actually having to go out and meet them.


Swipe left, left, left… but then there was a cute guy with a guitar. I am a sucker for those kinds of guys that have both a cute face and an artistic soul. Ok, maybe he was just posing with a guitar in his hands and he did not even know how to play it, but I swiped right. After almost numbing my fingers from swiping left I decided to turn my “let see what can happen” switch on. I know it sounds bad, but I have a lot of switches for the different type of situations. I felt like a robot a lot of times because of the way my mind went wild.


“You have a match” the app shouted at me. “Do you want to keep swiping or send a message?” the interrogation went on.


No, I did not want to keep swiping, but neither did I felt the need to write to that guitar player boy. Opened his profile again and then it hit me. “Oh FUCK! He is 23 years old. Eva! You are a fucking pervert! What is wrong with you!!!” my mind kept screaming at me.


Oh, well, I did not murder anyone, and as far as I knew it was not illegal to swipe right on dating apps on younger boys, so I was on the safe side. I thought to myself I would have to change the apps setting and set the lower age at minimum 25. There is one thing to look, but it is totally another thing to touch, and I was not touching that young childish cute face. What would we talk about? He is just a child.

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