Okay, let’s be honest from the jump—I’m a 39-year-old man, and what I definitely don’t want is anything resembling a meaningful connection. Nope, I’m here for a casual fling of unmet expectations and vague dissatisfaction. I’m looking for someone who can ignore me most of the time, respond to texts at their convenience (preferably three to five business days later), and make me question why I even bothered messaging in the first place. If you can keep me perpetually confused about whether we’re flirting or fighting, that’s ideal. Emotional whiplash? Yes, please.

I expect a texting relationship where we exchange two messages before you disappear like you’ve entered witness protection. If you’re really into it, you’ll breadcrumb me just enough to keep me hanging on, but not enough to give me any satisfaction. And naturally, I want a connection with all the warmth and depth of a shallow kiddie pool, where every conversation is a masterclass in dodging personal details. Let’s keep things strictly on the surface, because who has time for all that intimacy, sexting, flirting, and ‘getting to know you’ nonsense, right?

As for me, well, you should expect as little as possible. I won’t remember your birthday, your middle name, or whether you even like dogs (though I’ll definitely pretend I know these things). If I ask you how your day was, just assume I’m not paying attention to your response unless it comes with a flirty picture, because who wants that kind of effort? You should also prepare yourself for some truly subpar compliments that barely clear the ‘is he even trying?’ bar. I’ll sprinkle in just enough sarcasm to keep you wondering if I’m joking or if I just don’t care. Spoiler: it’s both.

Oh, and my availability? Inconsistent at best. You can expect me to flake out on plans, ‘forget’ to respond for hours, maybe even days, and when I do show up, it’ll be in the most inconvenient way possible. I’ll slide into your DMs at 2 a.m. with something vaguely suggestive, just to leave you on read when you reply. My idea of foreplay is a slow, confusing exchange of texts where nothing ever gets resolved, and by the time you think we’re getting somewhere? Boom, I’ve vanished like Houdini. You’ll be left wondering if I even existed at all.

And let’s talk about effort. I’ll bring the bare minimum. You know, just enough to keep the conversation going without ever really giving anything. Maybe I’ll send a meme or gif, something vaguely funny and probably stolen from your own feed. And if we ever get around to making plans? You can bet they’ll be as half-hearted as humanly possible, just enough to pretend I’m interested, but not enough to actually follow through.

But what I expect from you is even better. I need you to build me up in your mind—set the bar sky-high—only to realize, slowly, that I’m going to clear it with all the grace of a limbo dancer tripping over their own feet. Let’s make sure we spend at least three days texting, building up the anticipation until only I realize it was all leading to nowhere. Think of it like a slow burn, except the fire never actually catches.

So if you’re the kind of person who’s into unmet potential, vague flirting, and sarcastic banter that never really goes anywhere, I’m your guy. Together, we can build a digital relationship based entirely on frustration and unrealistic fantasies. And when it finally crashes and burns (because it will) you can walk away saying, ‘Well, that was… something.’ Let’s give each other just enough attention to keep things confusing, then leave the door open for a dramatic ghosting. Because really, what’s the fun in anything else?