Chloe Richards

Chloe looks like she belongs in Vogue. I was psyched when she matched with me. First date was brunch—her idea. She showed up in full glam, sunglasses, and with a friend filming on an iPhone. I thought it was a joke at first. Nope.
We couldn’t eat until she got the lighting right. She asked me to say “cheers” four times so she could get a Boomerang. I was barely a human; I was a prop. She didn’t ask me a single question. Talked about her ex (who apparently plays semi-pro tennis), her followers (“almost 20K, but shadowbanned”), and her meal plan. She said men who order pancakes “don’t respect their abs.” I ordered French toast.
Halfway through, she looked me dead in the eye and said, “You’re not my aesthetic.” Then she left. I paid, took a selfie with my toast, and never looked back.