Alex is 27 yrs old. He lives in or has use of a house having a kitchen that is enormous granite countertops. We have seen their face a large number of times, constantly utilizing the exact same expression—stoic, content, smirking. Positively the same as compared to the Mona Lisa, plus horn-rimmed eyeglasses. Many times, their Tinder profile has six or seven pictures, as well as in every one, he reclines up against the exact same immaculate kitchen area counter with one leg crossed gently on the other. Their pose is identical; the angle associated with the picture is identical; the coif of their hair is identical. Just their clothes modification: blue suit, black colored suit, red flannel. Rose blazer, navy V-neck, double-breasted parka. Body and face frozen, he swaps clothing just like a paper doll. He could be Alex, he’s 27, he’s in the kitchen area, he could be in a good top. He’s Alex, he could be 27, he could be in the kitchen, he could be in a good top.
I’ve constantly swiped kept (for “no”) on his profile—no offense, Alex—which should presumably inform Tinder’s algorithm him again that I would not like to see adam4adam online. But we nevertheless find Alex on Tinder one or more times a thirty days. The newest time we saw him, we learned his profile for a few minutes and jumped whenever I noticed one indication of life: a cookie container shaped just like a French bulldog showing up then vanishing from behind Alex’s right elbow.
I’m not the only person. Him, dozens said yes when I asked on Twitter whether others had seen. Continue reading
