They swiped through seven half-naked bathroom selfies in a row, which had the older woman scrunching her brow a little. “Why are all these young men taking pictures of themselves in front of the mirror with hardly any clothes on? Do women these days actually find that kind of vanity attractive?”

Della didn’t particularly get it, but she could only talk for herself. Molly and Marley were all about the bathroom selfie. She tried to imagine Tucker taking a picture of himself in the bathroom mirror and just…couldn’t. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who spent an awful lot of time looking at himself.

“I mean, it seems so…narcissistic.”

A laugh escaped Della’s throat. “Yes.” It did rather. But then, there were plenty of young women obsessed with bathroom selfies, too, and she didn’t know what to think about that, either.

Sometimes she felt like an alien in this uncloistered world in which she now lived.

“Although, that one…” Rosemary pointed to the screen, at a beautifully bronzed guy with greeny-gold eyes who was pouting at the camera. She fluttered her hand again. “He’s very pretty, isn’t he? What does he have to say about himself?”

Della smothered a smile as she tapped on the screen and swiped up to read Ricky’s bio. “I’d like to smother you in peanut butter and lick it off.”

Rosemary sat back, her fluttering hand grounding against her breast. “Oh dear.” And then she barked out a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. “What a hoot. Are they all so…scandalous?”

“Not all, no.” Della also laughed.

“Ooh.” Rosemary pressed close to Della’s shoulder. “Can we find some more like that?”

Della grinned. “Sure.”

They spent the next ten minutes chuckling about some of the more out-there bios. Rosemary’s favorite was I’m really into pizzas and anal. In fact, Della was worried Rosemary was going to choke on her own spit, she’d snort-laughed so hard.

“So, what do you do if you make a match?”

“You message each other, see if you want to take it any further.”

“That seems nice.”

“It…can be.”

“But not always?”

“I’ve had a couple of guys volunteer their unwanted observations about the size of their penis. Including pictures.”

Rosemary gasped, her hand clapping back over her mouth again. “Men send you pictures of their penis?” she said from behind her hand.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Well.” She dropped her hand. “I’ll be…” She shook her head, obviously struggling to find a word to adequately describe her reaction. “I’m grateful I grew up in an age when some things were left to the imagination.” Her gaze drifted to somewhere over Della’s shoulder. “If my husband had ever sent me such a personal picture, I might have been too frightened to marry him. Winston had the most wonderful penis.”