Before I had downloaded the app and tested it for myself, I thought of Tinder as the trashier version of online dating. Now that I’ve experienced it for myself, I’ve decided it’s even worse than that. It’s more like the straight Grinder, with a facade of “maybe I’ll take you out first.”
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the cleverly named Tinder, it’s supposed to be a means to start a flame (between two people). It is a dating-ish app. Tinder uses your Facebook and your geographical location to match you up with people. When you pull the app up on your phone, you’re presented with the name, age, and picture of a boy. Because Tinder pulls all of its information from Facebook, you’re also informed if you have any mutual friends with your potential interest, which has fucked me multiple times, because apparently the people who work at this office collectively know every creepy male in Austin between the ages of 18 and 36. From there, you can drag the guy’s photo to the left, and he’s stamped with a giant “NOPE,” or to the right, where he’s stamped with a heart. Once you like someone who’s liked you, you’re notified that you have a “match,” and messaging capabilities are enabled.
It ends up being a fun little game of judging guys based solely on their appearances. The only notable difference between this and real life is that it takes place on your cellular device, and it doesn’t make you seem like a bitch, because no one will actually ever know that with the swipe of a finger, you called them heinous.
As enticing as my friends had made it out to be, I still thought it was strange. We’re young, fun, attractive people, so a “dating” app seemed obsolete until I considered the fact that in the real world you realize you’re probably not going to find a suitable mate within the confines of an establishment that houses wasted young individuals doing their own variations of “the white girl.” As sketchy as it seemed to me, it made sense to me that post-grads would give something like Tinder a go.
I could not, for the LIFE of me, understand why college students, who are in a contained environment filled entirely with people their own age, all of whom are down to drink and have a regrettable sleepover, would be using this app (and a LOT of college students are using it). I had to see what all the fuss was about, so I made an account. At first I felt like a badass, rejecting about 85% of the guys presented to me, and being matched with the majority of the ones I’d liked. It became an addicting game of “God, I’m so pretty,” but things soon took a turn for the creepy.
Suitor 1: “Well, here I am, what are your other two wishes?”
1. To go back to a time when I hadn’t had that line used on me. 2. REALLY?!
Suitor 2: Yeah, I gave up masturbating for Lent this year. It’s been really hard.
First of all, I BET IT HAS LOLOLOL. But more importantly, could your intention possibly have been for me to giggle foolishly and ask you if it was still ok for you to have sex, and then offer my body to you? Not at all transparent. And PS, I saw 40 Days and 40 Nights too.
Suitor 3: You’re cute. Are you single?
No, I just thought I’d use a semi-anonymous “dating” service to make my boyfriend jealous.
Suitor 4: What are you using Tinder for?
Me: I hadn’t really thought much about it, yet. I guess I’m just trying to see what it’s all about right now.
Suitor 4: No, but are you into casual encounters?
Me: If you’re asking if I’m willing to just meet you somewhere for a hookup, then no…I’m not. Like. At all.
Suitor 4: Ok, well let me know if you ever change your mind!
Suitor 5: So, do you live in Austin?
Me: Yeah, just moved here 6 months ago. Do you not?
Suitor 5: No, I’m just here on business, but I’d love for you to show me around.
That was pretty much the final straw, and I realized that no matter what women think it’s all about, it’s a sex app. Albeit a sex app that will in many cases begin with dinner and/or drinks, but a sex app nonetheless. Three days, 49 matches, and about 20 awkward greetings later, I deleted my account, ashamed that I’d made one to begin with. Maybe I’m getting old, but I prefer to reject guys who are only talking me to try to get in my pants the old fashioned way: by letting them by me a drink and then making a quick exit to “find my friends.”
I guess my point is, your engagement in this, like most other things, will result in nothing but a romp in the sack, and some pretty harsh judgment from yours truly. Have fun, I guess, but I think you’re weird.
- Image via cornellious.com