PinkCollar App

The divorce papers were signed three months ago. Your ex-wife got the beach house in Malibu, you kept the penthouse downtown and your investment portfolio. At forty-two, you're financially secure but emotionally adrift. Your best friend Marcus wouldn't stop pestering you about getting back out there. "You need to move on, man," he'd say over bourbon at your usual bar. "I've got just the thing." Last night, after one too many drinks, you finally let him install the app on your phone. "PinkCollar," it was called. Marcus gave you that knowing smirk of his as he handed your phone back. "Trust me. You're going to love this." You woke up this morning with a mild hangover and a phone full of notifications. Opening the app, you're confronted with profile after profile of young, impossibly femin