Profile Stories Novels & Stories

Nothing made sense to me. If he’s a computer genius and a hacker, why aren’t there any pictures of him from school on his I*******m page? He’s got over twenty million followers, but it’s all just images of him with clients. He doesn’t seem like the type who has friends or even keeps them. Does he keep his personal life completely out of the media? His profile just says he’s a businessman. How am I supposed to believe he’s a genius based on one old photo? Was he involved in the hack on the hospital server the day my divorce went through?

Nothing had changed. She still looked the same. Flawless as ever. I stared at it for a moment, then exited. I didn’t know why I searched her name after that. Maybe curiosity. The profile came up quickly. A verified account with millions of followers. I hesitated for a second before tapping on the profile picture. A story had been posted a minute ago. The image appeared and everything inside me went still. It wasn’t even a full picture. Just a partial shot. A restaurant table.

Just profiles, brief descriptions, and the occasional meeting if the conversation went well. I scrolled through a few profiles without much interest. Most of them were from nearby towns or travelers passing through. Then one profile caught my attention. No face picture. Just a photo taken from behind—a man sitting on a balcony somewhere snowy, a glass in his hand. Dark coat. Broad shoulders. The image had been taken carefully. The username read - NorthBound. His description was short. Someone who preferred quiet conversations. Books. Hiking. I leaned back against the headboard, staring at the screen for a moment before tapping the match button.

I look back at the profile, there's no pricing list anywhere, just a row of golden dollar signs, six to be exact. What the hell does that even mean? Is it a tier? A ranking? A warning? “Next one,” Mark says, already leaning in. I suppress the sigh building in my chest and nod instead. I click out of the profile and scroll until another catches my eye. The man is maybe thirty, give or take. His profile picture is sharp and polished, him in a clean-cut navy suit, tie perfect, hair styled like he just stepped out of a boardroom. It looks more like a professional networking photo than a kink app profile.

Then an idea pops into my head. I*******m. Of course. I quickly open the app and type his name. Lucas Santis. A profile pops up almost immediately, and I tap on it. There he is….profile picture and all. Stephanie scoots closer and leans over my shoulder. “Oh he’s cute,” she says. I ignore her. My eyes scan his bio, and I see that he's a photographer. Interesting. I also see a few portfolio highlights. Then I see it….A phone number.

“They’re way more fun with friends, promise.” That, too, makes sense. And Heather is basically the most normal person I know, so I should follow her lead on this. I pull my phone out of the purse trapped under my body and hand it over. Setting up the profiles requires moving for a quick photoshoot after Heather declares all the pictures I have “not proof of my hotness,” and she helps me with a bio that hopefully doesn’t make me sound as pathetic as I am. Or maybe “introvert looking for someone to lie around with” is just dating-app for pathetic, and the trick is on other people. Then, the swiping begins.

As she was reading she saw an ad on a social network website called wonder. She clicked on the ad and created an account on the site. “This should be fun,” She muttered under her breath as she read the username she gave herself. Celine23. There was nothing special about it. Just like her purpose for coming here in the first place, she was just here to feed her curiosity and see how normal humans behaved without all the society pressure on them. She used a flower as a profile picture, her favorite roses that she took on her last trip to London and wrote Doughnuts and chocolate in her bio. She wasn’t here to find love or friendship, she didn’t mind if she got one though.

I clicked on his profile and scrolled through some of his posts. He didn't seem to be the social type that writes a lot of things on their bio and have a lot of highlights. He only wrote "I'm Zach" on his bio. I scrolled through his pictures on Instagram and all were just photoshoots of him while some were the matches he had won and some video game clips. He didn't smile in any of his pictures yet a lot of girls commented some nasty stuffs. I scrolled through a comment that made me cringed *let me be your bed, lay on me* who the fuck writes something like that.

If it does look promising, then he'd give it some more time and pay for a subscription. While some of them have moved on to other subjects or are still playing video games on the TV, a few of the cousins, including Krista, helped Cameron with his profile. He was actually having fun getting some of their input and they were all having a good laugh at some of the answers they were all giving. Everyone seemed to have their own unique way of doing a dating profile that contradicted how someone else made theirs. For the most part, Cameron made it his own way, but out of everybody, Krista gave him the best input on some of the profile details and what photos to use. "Ok, we're ready to make this o

For a second I caught myself wishing it had gotten lost—as if that somehow would magically make the profile vanish along with it—but I quickly found it beneath a scratch piece of paper. It all felt odd, like I was a detective of some sort, as I logged in and opened my profile. It was familiar and yet different enough to be almost creepy. Everything was about me, but I hadn't done any of it. Even my picture at the top of the screen looked like a different person smiling back at me. I need to change this picture if I want this profile to go anywhere, I thought to myself. I looked far to innocent and happy to be on a dating site. Below the picture was a small space for a bio with a few short se