He shifted his weight on the uncomfortable stool as he sat at the bar with elbows propped precariously between ring-stains, sipping his watered-down whiskey. The careworn dive's aroma was difficult to describe; it was a complex bouquet of stale cigarette smoke, cheap domestic swill, and broken dreams. Allowing his eyes to wander across the hazy gloom, he caught the gaze of a surprisingly attractive and bored-looking woman in a dapper little number nursing a rather empty-looking highball glass and staring at him bemusedly. Quickly averting his gaze, he reached into his right inside jacket pocket and slid out his phone, an automatic and familiar movement that came from cowardly repetition. Nervously pretending to check his email, he could feel her amber eyes still examining him, so he instead pretended to check a non-existent text message. Eventually, and much to his relief, she grew tired of staring at him and turned her attention elsewhere. The bro'd out troglodyte sitting next to him, who he'd been keen to ignore, had been observing the entire affair with an expression somewhere between a smirk and a sneer and an unjustified confidence. Considering himself a bit of an expert on the opposite gender, the weekend warrior decided to aid the obviously-dejected young man. Elegantly slurping his Heineken and wiping his mouth with the back of one hairy bejeweled paw, the Jersey Shore reject readjusted his carefully tilted and pristine baseball cap and leaned over to offer Marty Milquetoast a token nugget of his profound dating wisdom. Immediately the young man's nostrils were assaulted by a nefarious brew that was equal parts Axe body spray and desperation. "'Ey bruh, can I offer you a bit of advice?" The young man simply stared at him resignedly, sighing, knowing that the advice would be proffered no matter his response. "No ladies are gonna wanna get at you if you're staring at your phone the whole time bruh. Just sayin'." Not only was he receiving dating advice from an Ed Hardy-sporting bridge troll, but he had been caught red-handed browsing OKCupid's mobile site on his phone by himself at a bar, a new achievement in self-loathing. Then the painful realization struck him like a ton of shame-filled bricks; he was going about this all wrong! Mobile site shenanigans be damned-there was an app for that!
