We have a buddy who’s haunted by small caps. Thought hats.

Straw hats. Often denim or corduroy hats—they follow the lady about on Bumble. She’ll tap through three objectively attractive visibility pictures of a possible suitor, and then—agggggghhhhh—in the fourth he’s putting on slightly cap. Only when she’s planning to swipe right, the fedoras appear, cockblocks delivered from hell to destroy the girl. Usually, anything else about these guys is good, old-fashioned date material: he’s an enjoyable combination of qualities she locates sexy/endearing/impressive (stomach), he’s got a good tasks and a Ph.D., and he does not have any shirtless selfies without images of him inebriated with a group of Instagram types. But time and time again, this business have actually wrecked their unique possibilities at appreciation because of the overly positive flick of a short-brimmed cap.Continue reading→