Swipe Right

Jon Wise watched his wife, Brandi from the opposite end of the living room as she curled up on the couch, absently scrolling through her phone while some forgettable reality show played in the background. The television filled the room with noise, but neither of them was really watching it. The evening had settled into the comfortable rhythm that defined most of their lives.

The routine was familiar enough that neither of them had to think about it anymore. The marriage itself was much the same. There were no dramatic fights. No threats of divorce. No secret affairs. They still laughed together. Still enjoyed one another's company. Still kissed each other goodnight. Yet somewhere over the years, excitement had quietly given way to comfort.

Neither of them would have admitted it aloud, but life had become predictable. Jon sat in his recliner with a beer resting on the armrest. At forty-five, he had developed the slight softness around the middle that came from years behind a desk. His hair was beginning to gray at the temples. He was not old by any means, but he no longer felt young either.

Setting his phone aside, Jon walked to the window. "It's so quiet," he mused.

Brandi glanced at her own screen, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Not everywhere. Look at this ridiculous thing." Brandi looked up from her phone. "One of the nurses at the hospital told me about the weirdest website I've ever seen."

"What kind of website?" he asked. She turned her phone, showing him the garish logo. "It's called Swipe Right."

Jon took the phone and examined the screen. The app's homepage looked sleek enough, but the photographs immediately told a different story. The profiles seemed less focused on relationships and more focused on anonymous hookups and nude photos. The users posed dramatically, advertised themselves aggressively, and presented carefully curated versions of themselves

"What is this?" Jon asked.

"A dating app," Brandy said as she sat upright and tucked her feet beneath her. "The nurse who showed it to me said it started as a dating app years ago, but now it's mostly people posting nudes or trying to hook up."

Jon scrolled. The profiles felt strangely performative. Some users advertised unusual lifestyles. Others documented personal challenges, fantasies, interests, and social circles. Most seemed more interested in collecting followers, comments, reactions, and admiration than actually finding relationships.

"It reminds me of social media," he noted.

"That's what Melissa said," confesses Brandt, "the nurse who showed it to me. She said it was social media for pervs and freaks."

Jon continued scrolling. The app encouraged users to post photographs, status updates, personal journals, discussion topics, and relationship preferences. People could follow one another, react to content, join communities, and send private messages.

Many of the profiles appeared designed to attract attention as quickly as possible. It all seemed sleazy and cheap. Every photograph looked pornographic. Every biography felt engineered. Every post seemed designed to generate reactions.

"This feels exhausting," Jon pinched the bridge of his nose.

Brandi laughed. "It gets worse." She took the phone back and opened another profile.

The user had apparently posted six photographs of herself within the last twenty-four hours, crude, degrading messages written on her nude body in lipstick. "Stupid Whore, Useless Set of Holes, Dumb Bitch, Fuck Pig, Brain Dead Cunt." Hundreds of people had reacted to them. Thousands had viewed them.

The comments stretched endlessly. Brandi scrolled, her voice a murmur. "Hotwife4Real... ThickLoad... CockyBastard69." She paused, her breath stilling. "One comment says, 'I'd ruin that pretty mouth.'" Her gaze remained fixed on the screen, the vulgar words hanging in the quiet air between them.

"People actually spend all day doing this?" The older he got, the less he understood the internet. "Why?"

Brandi shrugged. "Attention, I guess."

Jon remembered when social media was mostly pictures of pets and family vacations. Now everything seemed to be competing for attention. Obscenity had become a currency. The more people looked at you, the more valuable you became. At least that was how it appeared.

Brandi continued browsing. Brandi scrolled past a profile named Thick10Inch with only a single photo of his rigid cock, then another called HorseCock4U. with an even larger one "Look," she murmured, her voice low, "this one says 'I'd make you forget his name.'" She felt a traitorous warmth creep up her neck. The funny part is that Melissa swears half the people on here are completely different in real life."

Jon nodded. "Meaning they create these larger-than-life versions of themselves." That much made sense. Most people presented idealized versions of themselves online. The app merely seemed to encourage it more openly, and more obscenely. Jon noted over her shoulder that most of the male profiles consisted of a single dick pic and a crude username.

"Look at this one." Brandi held up another profile.

The woman described herself as adventurous, fearless, spontaneous, and constantly seeking excitement. Brandi's finger stilled on a profile of a woman whose gallery was a dizzying, repetitive cascade of different men, always the same act, her lips stretched around anonymous, glistening cocks. She felt a strange detachment, like she was observing some clinical study of **** need.

Jon looked over at his wife. "You think she's actually like that?"

"No chance," smiled Brandi. "Nobody has that much energy."

For several minutes they continued looking through profiles together. The men were mostly anonymous dick pics, with the occasional spawling collection of porn. The women seemed to be competing for the attention of the men. Some showed their faces, others didn’t. Many had nudes. The pictures were invariably sleazy and sexualized.

Some were amusing, while others were ridiculous. Some seemed almost tragic. People boasted about careers they probably did not have, hobbies they probably did not pursue, and lifestyles they almost certainly did not live. The entire app felt like one enormous performance.

Eventually Brandi lowered the phone. "I kind of want to know what would happen."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "What would happen with what?" She smiled mischievously. Jon immediately recognized that look. Whenever Brandi wore that expression, trouble usually followed. "What are you thinking?"

"What if you made a profile ?" Brandi asked. "I think it would be funny."

Jon laughed and shook his head. "No."