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I recently popped my Venmo cherry a few weeks ago. I’m what some people would call “old school.” I like to pay people back for things using cold, hard cash. Maybe I’m behind on the times but it just felt right. Regardless, I was finally convinced downloading Venmo might be a good idea after reading a story about a kid getting a huge payout by putting his account info on a College Gameday sign. I’ve been photobombing every live taping I’ve been able to get to since then, holding a sign with my Venmo handle on it. Mostly local newscasts. It’s been a mixed bag of results so far, except for the police shooting I showed up to. The Black Lives Matter protesters were not into me being there.
Still I was optimistic about Venmo, though, until I saw this Tweet.
This is the modern day equivalent of one of those Victorian era lady pick pockets who dress up all sexy in an extra tight corset that really pushes up the goods, and then while she’s showing you some ankle she nabs your pocket watch and hops off the trolley. Go ahead and either delete that app now or hide it inside of the “games” icon where all your sketchy Snapchat Save and PornHub apps are located. Go on, I’ll give you a minute.
See, this tweet is so tragic because this poor, sweet pledge thought he was going to score some digits and possibly work up to some Snapchat nudes. Then, this cold-hearted wench fleeced him in broad daylight.
It’s a plan so diabolical that honestly you can’t really be mad at the chick. She knew exactly what she was doing going into the night. At some point while getting ready, she turned to her friends and said, “I’m going to flirt with a pledge tonight and when he hands me his phone I’m going to Venmo myself some cash because I’m awful and broke and hilarious. Also, how do my nipples look?” I’m not really, uh, sure what girls talk about. Regardless, I both respect and condemn this conversation.
As if getting a girl’s number wasn’t hard enough, we now have to worry about this harlot trickery. I thought the time a girl faked me out and gave me the number of a 45-year-old black man from south Chicago was the worst I would experience. Him and I still talk, but it got weird after the third dick pic. In hindsight, I should’ve asked before I sent them.
Women are terrible people. Terrible, genius, hilarious people. Well played, ladies..