The Flamingo Manifesto

Bartholomew "Barty" Butterfield adjusted his phone, trying to get the perfect angle for his profile picture. His reflection in the cracked screen showed a man-child with a perpetual deer-in-headlights expression, clutching a slightly deflated inflatable flamingo.

"Needs more… enigma

tic allure," he muttered, tilting his head. "Like I'm deep, but also ready for a spontaneous pool party. With... this flamingo."

His bio, carefully crafted after an hour of intense self-reflection (and a Google search for "Tinder bios that get wives"), read: "Here for a good time, maybe a long time, definitely a pizza. If you can handle my mom's cooking, you're halfway there! DM for exclusive access to my vintage meme collection. #FutureHusband #AdultingIsHard #FlamingoLife"

Barty had been on Tinder for what felt like an eternity – or at least, three consecutive pizza-and-Netflix weekends. His mother, God bless her intrusive soul, had started dropping increasingly pointed hints about grandchildren. "Your cousin Brenda just announced twins, Barty. Twins! You know, Brenda? The one who used to eat dirt?"

The pressure was on. He wanted a "good wife," one who wouldn't judge his vast collection of superhero action figures, could tolerate his rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody" in the shower, and ideally, knew how to operate a washing machine.

His current strategy, honed over months of zero-match frustration, was simple: swipe right on everyone. "It's a numbers game, Mom," he’d explained. "Like fishing with a really, really wide net. Eventually, a mermaid will swim in."

Today, a match! A real, live human woman named Tiffany. Her profile stated she enjoyed hiking, reading classic literature, and "meaningful connections." Barty, who considered a brisk walk to the fridge a hike and preferred graphic novels, decided he could definitely adapt.

His opening line, a stroke of genius, he thought: "Hey. Is your name Google? Because you have everything I’ve been searching for. Also, do you like flamingos?"

Tiffany's response, three hours later: "lol, no."

Barty frowned. "Lol no? What does that even mean? Does she not like flamingos? Is she not Google? This is why women are so confusing!"

He scrolled through his other matches, a motley crew of mostly bots and an alarming number of women who exclusively posted pictures of their cats. He paused on a profile of a woman named Beatrice, whose main photo showed her performing a complex yoga pose on a mountain peak.

Her bio mentioned her love for extreme sports and astrophysics.

Barty's most extreme sport was trying to open a jar of pickles. His understanding of astrophysics began and ended with "the moon is kinda shiny."

"Perfect," he declared, swiping right. "She needs someone grounded. Someone who appreciates a good night in. Maybe she can teach me to stand on my head."

A few days later, Barty found himself on a painfully awkward coffee date with Beatrice. She was explaining the intricacies of black holes when he interrupted, "So, hypothetically, if I were to fall into a black hole... would my flamingo come with me? Asking for a friend."

Beatrice blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You know, for scale. And companionship," Barty clarified, already picturing a tiny inflatable flamingo disappearing into the event horizon. "He's very loyal."

The date ended shortly after, with Beatrice explaining she had an urgent appointment to "recalibrate her chakras."

Barty sighed, scrolling through Tinder once more. He saw a profile of a woman smiling warmly, holding a small dog. Her bio simply said, "Looking for genuine connection and good conversation."

"Genuine connection, huh?" Barty muttered. He looked down at his flamingo, then back at the screen. "Right. Time to pull out the big guns."

He typed furiously: "Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m bad at poems, but I’m really into you. Also, is that a dog? Dogs are cool. Cooler than flamingos, probably. Maybe. What's your dog's name? Can he fetch a pizza?"

He pressed send, hopeful. This time, he was sure, he had cracked the code to finding his "good wife." It was just a matter of time before a woman appreciated his unique blend of charm, pizza enthusiasm, and inflatable waterfowl companionship.

He held up his phone to his flamingo. "Any day now, Frederick. Any day now."

#Tinderstories #Humor #Flamingos #ShortStories