Dear 2016 Alissa, 

To be fair, I didn’t think you’d come this far. I had no idea you would do such stupid things with twenty-three guys. Here is the gold medal for being a slut, a very good one. 

When you decide to say yes to that stocky, Chinese engineer on Tinder, it will go down. I literally mean you will go down on him and deep throat that cock. In the Days Inn room, you’ll intertwine his fingers with yours, breathe heavily between heated make-out sessions, and tease him until the sky gradients into darkness. This won’t be the last time you’re with him. It will be the beginning of a six-month journey of booty calls, good vodka, and weed. 

You might want to run, no, sprint from the dark and straight into the lit bedroom of God because you’ll want to repent of all those sins. Because you’re a good Catholic girl, y’know? When you enter the yellow room with the handsome, hazel-eyed priest and sit five feet away from him, he will assume that this five-foot six engineer is your boyfriend. You’re too blinded by his attractiveness to correct him. Let’s be real here, you think this priest is boyfriend material as fuck. God is the ultimate man stealer. 

I hope you realize at some point in 2016 that this isn’t the content of the romance burger. It isn’t the meat, but it’s the bread. That thing that keeps it all together. Yeah, you’re just eating bread. But sometimes, when you’re with these guys, things are just right. The laughter in the dim light, the grins, and the playfulness almost taste like meat. Maybe it’s tofu, and that doesn’t taste as good. 

You’ll go for that fake burger a few more times. It still looks appealing when you meet a Korean guy in the military. He might not seem like your type at first, but he has one of the prettiest smiles you’ll ever see. Firm muscles, a tatted body, and abs that make you wonder if the Greeks were here because wow, you’ve never seen abs like these. He is tall, and he might not be the smartest guy you meet, but he likes that Korean band you like so you know he’s decent. 

Well, like any guy on Tinder, he isn’t. That one will force you to define a relationship after two dates, will try to make you his in two weeks, and will FaceTime you and wonder if you’re going to hang out with him when you two don’t make plans. If that’s decent, your standards are in the sewer. 

Somehow, you end up doing something right. When you finally tell him you’re not looking for someone, he replies with an “ok.” This will be the first time you tell a guy you’re not interested. Use it more often.  

After that mess, there will be the bisexual, Filipino twenty-five-year-old who is way too accomplished for you. He’s an artist, hairstylist, the heir to a fallen business empire, and most importantly, Catholic, which means you can drown yourself in holy water together! Yes, that’s all you need. Like a Filipino Jesus, he waits for you to confess all your sins so he can wash them away with his holy cum and an orgasmic prayer to God. 

He’ll text another girl when he’s in bed with you. Those blue bubbles of “I miss you too” and “Do you wanna come over tonight” belongs to his best friend, who was his girlfriend, who became his ex-girlfriend, who he hooked up with multiple times after they broke up. Do you smell that? It’s the smell of fishy-ass-Tinder-Boy No. 5, great cologne. 

But the moment you tell him you feel like a side ho, the silence will cinch like a noose around your neck. He’ll deadpan he doesn’t want to have sex and take you back to the train station. As the afternoon transforms into pinks, yellows, and oranges, when you’re almost about to leave, he will cry slut shame. You should run then. The moment he wants sex is the moment you realize he ain’t a Catholic boy you’d like to fuck with or fuck. 

When he texts you in July, a month after you saw him, he’ll say he doesn’t want to pursue this. Doesn’t matter because you’re in California. As you stand in your friend’s kitchen, basking in the city skylines, the sound of How I Met Your Mother playing in the background, you realize you have the hot July sun to burn your back as you explore the graffiti streets of Los Angeles. Yeah, ain’t nobody got time for fake ass Filipino Jesus.  

California is also fun because of the new Tinder boy. We’ll name him Brutus. This five-foot-eight pretty boy who goes to Harvard and is in Seattle for an internship will remind you why it’s so hard to have a crush on guys. Labeling him Dream Boat with a cloud emoji, you’ll light up like your phone every time you see a notification, because Brutus is everything you want. And it’s with this one guy, you’ll reevaluate your standards for potential significant others. When he texts you in the morning, when he replies with paragraphs, when he talks about absinthe, you’ll want someone like him. Being picky about boyfriends is a good trait, darling. 

Like I said though, he’s Brutus. When you least expect it, he will stab you in the back by ghosting you. You’ll never meet him. And what sucks the most is that pretty fucker is still going to be pretty in 2017. Yes, even in 2017, you will still find yourself staring blankly at his face on Instagram, because he exceeds all your expectations. He teaches you what to look for in a guy, but you also wish Brutus would cry in regret because he ghosts an A+ human being. Yes, you’re that sure of yourself.

When you sort of get over Brutus, there will be a cute Asian guy you’ve had your eyes on since you moved into the dorms. As you climb down those stairs and see the familiar name on a door, you will message him on Tinder and ask if he lives there. He’ll say yes and when he opens the door, you will go into shock because this is the same guy you stare at too much. He’ll make you blush with his words, he’ll murmur his compliments into your ears, and he’ll help you see the stardust in your eyelashes. As much as you’d like to say you gave your virginity to some boy who loves you, you gave it up because he’s close to what you think the “right” guy is. 

Everyone tells you to have sex with the right person, that sex is different with this “right guy” theory. But this boy catches you off-guard with his adorable puppy dog eyes and sweet accent. He makes you feel like you’re in a fairytale and unlocks the door to feeling like a school girl. You’ll think he’s good enough to take your flower because everything about him is your aesthetic. Instead, sex feels like an oscillating graph you can’t derive because it oscillates. You still have no idea what that means. You wonder about his penis’s speed and which chemicals make sex feel good. 

Those friends will tell you it’s different with the right person. Ignore them. They can’t seem to swallow the sex-is-just-sex idea. But it’ll be the right time, sometime. Whenever you see him, you’re content with your decision. Not everyone gets to have sex with a stylish, Chinese, graduate student, you’re lucky you did. 

To be fair, you’re really lucky with guys, but you’re also not that lucky with other people’s opinions. Your friend is going to call you a fuckgirl because you use so many guys.  Others will advise you to stop because it’s not worth the tears you cry. There will be enough tears to fill a kiddie pool, but this is all part of the self-discovery. It might feel as though you’re going to puke because you’re being so impure, and if anyone in your family found out, you’d be fucked, but like you always tell yourself: it doesn’t matter. The 2016 guys volume in your life are ones you never expected. Instead of hiding in a corner, feeling the regret and disgust slither onto your body, you continue to fuck shit up by getting drunk with strangers, staying up until 4 am to tell your friend and her roommate about your Tinder adventures, and commuting to Seattle on bus 594. 

Scars heal. You heal. These are just stories you can tell when you get older. You’ll finally figure out why you use Tinder. And it’s this: you use it to temporarily fill your gauge, relying on others to call you beautiful. Boys won’t spit out if they think you’re beautiful. No, they tell you that you’re bad at blowjobs. Like bad blowjobs, being with Tinder guys aren’t enjoyable. There’s too much teeth involved. 

When people learn your 2016 story, they might think you’re a slut. There is nothing you can do about it. When you look back on this part of your life, you’ll laugh out loud. It’ll take you twenty plus guys to take the steps to find love in yourself. It takes twenty plus guys to finally deactivate your Tinder, delete it, and refocus on things that are more important. That’s okay. Because in 2016, you earn a medal for being a very good ho. 

Sincerely,
Present Alissa

Alissa is a retired Tinder pro still looking for that perfect coffee date. After drinking too many lattes and spending too much time on silly dates, you'll probably find her walking downtown Olympia in heels, writing until her mom tells her to go to bed, and contemplating if she should buy more coffee. (The answer is always yes.)