Grass Valley, CA — Local man Doug Harper, in a rom-com plotline nobody asked for, recently discovered that his wife, Susan, might be moonlighting Tinder. And not just moonlighting—using the kind of bio that reads like she plagiarized the entire chorus of an overplayed yacht-rock hit.
“She likes piña coladas and getting caught in the rain,” Doug said, repeating the profile out loud, because apparently that helped him process the betrayal. “And she’s into making love at midnight. Is this… is this a joke?”
Doug, who clearly never heard of plausible deniability, swiped right—because when your spouse is potentially scoping out strangers online, the logical thing to do is double down and match with them.
“Honestly, I was curious. And she hates yoga. Or so I thought. But, now? Who knows. Maybe she’s been secretly stretching her chakras this whole time.”
It took only seconds for the app to confirm Doug’s worst fears: It’s a match!
“She matched me instantly,” he said, as if Susan had nothing better to do than hover over her phone, waiting to see if her husband was also an online degenerate. “Who even does that?”
When confronted, Susan was entirely unfazed.
“You’re mad I’m on Tinder? You’re also on Tinder,” she said, with the kind of deadpan delivery that deserves its own laugh track. “Seriously, Doug. You like piña coladas. I like piña coladas. Maybe this is a good thing.”
And let’s not forget the rain.
“You don’t even like getting caught in the rain,” Doug stammered, like the true detective he is. “You always freak out about your hair.”
Sources close to the couple (probably their bartender) say they’ve since agreed to delete their profiles and “work on their relationship”—though, judging by their squabble over whether piña coladas should have umbrellas in them, we give this truce about as much staying power as a tiki torch in a hurricane.
