So before I post our conversation, I've ALWAYS struggled with text game and I need help.
I also don't want to take any credit for lines and such that I may have stolen.
Me: I've got some bad news for you, Christy. (almost always gets a response)
Her: Meh, it's all good. you don't have to tell me. I'm not looking for bad news. Thanks, though!
Me: Its important, I'll tell you anyways. Our divorce is finalized. I'm taking the gumball machine and toaster oven!
Her: HAHA. Good try. I have the signed pre-nup in my hand. You cant even have one gumball. And I used the toaster oven to knock out a drunk kid who accidentally walked into the house, so you can have whats left of it, sure.
Me: What?! Bullshit! If you don't give my damn gumball machine I'm gonna make a voodoo doll of you and put headphones on it and blare Justin Bieber all day!
Her: Empty threats. Plus, I don't totally hate female pop singers.
Me: Okay playing hardball eh? Well I've got your IKEA nightstand and gnomes held ransom...wanna talk gumball machine bizz now? (In her profile she said she had an attachment to her gnomes and nightstand which she made)
Her: All my gnomes are right in my lap...sigh...You're all talk and no walk. Authenticity is such sham these days. Tinder is suppose to be the paragon of truth. Kids these days.
Me: Ok check-mate. I like your style. I'm making you my new pretend internet girlfriend.
Her: Welcome aboard the ship of witticism, delayed responses, and trivial pursuits babe

. You can tell all your friends I'm 5'7" with a huge rack. One of those is false, my shoe rack is pretty giant.
Me: Well babe, just as well I don't kiss til date 20 or put out til date 50...I might share a milkshake with 2 straws on date 3. Chocolate or vanilla?
Her: strawberry
Me: I'll compromise with strawberry if you promise not to eyeball me like a piece of meat. I'll even do the courtesy noses-touch thing with you.
Her: I wouldn't subject you to those patriatchially established steriotypical behaviors. I'm way too much of a feminist for that. Equality is the shit and whatnot. Besides eyeing you like a piece of meat would be bad news for you. I'm a vegetarian.
Me: Ok good, now that we are on the same page we can move forward. What's your number? (I feel like this is where I went wrong but I want your opinions)
Her: I always jersey #6 in sports. You? (smartass response)
Me: I was always #69 when I was a professional pillow fighter. Had to retire from too many broken bones.
And then I never heard back from her. Any thoughts?