How Tinder Has Changed My Life

bio copyYeah. I did it. I finally caved and voluntarily created an outlet for even more freaks to enter my life. I signed up about two weeks ago in a moment of post-breakup weakness, pleased to be instantly bombarded with endless shirtless pics of 20-somethings holding puppies. I always figured utilizing an app designed for cheesy pickup lines was just asking for more harassment, as I’ve already had my fair share of restraining-order-strongly-suggested paramours. I was also (and OK, still sorta am) incredibly judgmental, and thought meeting randos through an even more watered down version of online dating was embarrassing.

But you know what? It’s been pretty awesome. I’m learning a lot about myself, and how to interact with the opposite sex in this peculiar generation. I’ve been on 3 dates in the past 4 days, and I’m finally starting to understand why my mom loves being such a playa. Since I know how much you goons enjoy hearing me rag on the men in my life, here are some seemingly trivial yet honestly life outlook enhancing things that have happened since I announced to the (within a 25 mile radius) world I was open for business.

    • I reaffirmed the lesson I previously posted about here. A basketball game, for example, is not the best first date for a myriad of reasons. Namely, I find watching sports to be simultaneously boring and stressful, and am more inclined to enjoy other types of ball play. The pep band is also too loud to learn anything about your date other than their amount of school spirit, cheerleaders bring out my lesbian tendencies, and the Kiss Cam pressure is physically crippling.

    • I’m a lot more concerned with pheromones and how to successfully fabricate them. I’ve stopped relying solely on the scent of my hair products and started wearing perfume. In true noob fashion I apply it to my wrist and then all over my body as if I’m doing the Macarena, and am constantly afraid I am a walking Macy’s makeup counter clusterfuck.

    • I learned breakups are horrible, and no amount of “hey ur cute ;)” openers can cure you as well as time. My first day of Tindering involved sitting in my bathrobe with a container of Marionberry pie ice cream, sobbing with every left swipe and taking extra big spoonfuls whenever someone with the same name as my ex popped up. #mylifeisaromcom. I found that while getting chatted up by other dudes was flattering, nothing helped more than whining to my friends, trying to get back in shape, and just taking it one day at a time.

    • No one has asked me to sit on their face, and I’m mildly insulted. I dare say I’ve had an unusually tame experience, with this exception.*

    *I’ve since changed my age range preferences to not include 19 year old bebes.

    • I realized a three year old could probably use this app better than me, for in the process of taking the above screenshot, I accidentally liked a “moment” of this dude drinking a beer I’ve never heard of. What’s a moment? Why does swiping have to be involved with my coordination skills? Is this going to encourage more living room foreplay? Fahk, man.

    • I noticed guys can be just as sneaky as girls with regard to choosing their profile pictures. Upon first signing up I was heavily under the influence of the cheerleader effect. Every photo on my screen seemed to display an attractive, possibly soul mate quality male suitor. But don’t be fooled, kiddies. Shots taken at a low angle or with midget female friends can hide less than satisfactory heights, just as “cool” pics of riding motorcycles or doing backflips can really just be a ploy to hide unfortunate facial features. I’m not trynna be outrageously shallow, but it’s like the equivalent of girls upping the contrast to hide an extra nose, or knowing the exact angle to hide their permanent food baby. Finding the appropriate level of putting your “best face forward” without causing first meeting shock is key. Also, sad but true PSA: puppy pics don’t guarantee pussy.

    • I’ve scolded myself for a history of drunken first kisses, and come to the unfortunate conclusion that sober ones are rarely wonderful/exciting and usually more awkward/dinner breathy. I’ve gotten real good at avoiding eye contact and giving half arm side hugs instead of sealing deals I’m still apprehensive about.

    • I’m starting to adopt an “easy come, easy go” policy. As much as I’d like to believe I’m strong and confident, I’m prone to excessively checking my texts and inventing stories about how the dude must’ve fallen into a dragon infested lagoon, because why else wouldn’t he be replying?? I’m not going to fall in love every time my phone tells me Congratulations, you have a new match! and I need to give these men the same out. One good date does not a future hubby make, ladies.

While the above are all incredibly mind-blowing revelations, I think the most important thing that’s happened for me is a slightly better approach to meeting new people, and a conscious decision to really be myself, even if I suck sometimes. This is the first time in my life I’ve felt like I’ve had enough dating experience under my belt (literally & figuratively) to be able to know what I want. It’s the first time I can look in the mirror in the morning and give myself a wink cause I’m not half bad looking. It’s this magical moment where I’m young but legal, terrified but excited, spazzy but–with concentration–fully capable of using my opposable thumbs to just say why the hell not and swipe right already. Maybe I won’t meet my other half through this silly social experiment, but honestly, falling in love with myself and this time of my life is an extremely corny yet amazing alternative. And I’m stoked.


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