I’m swiping right, I’m yelling Tinder. I want a match, I want one now. Let’s have a chat we won’t remember, it’s an app we won’t forget.
David was interested in “casual sex,” Sean inquired about “hookups,” Thomas had to know if I “wanna bang,” Ibe “was wondering if you liked dinosaurs,” and Sam didn’t understand why I wasn’t interested in him coming over “tonite” (obviously it was the misspelling of tonight – on top of my moral reservations).
So classy.
Tinder is an app for people to judge others based on one to six photos of the user’s choosing. If you find a user attractive you swipe right to “like” them, and if they find you attractive they swipe right to “like” you; Tinder matches you, puts awkward pick-up lines in the messaging section and you are on your way to be matched with some of your area’s finest.
I don’t know about the average user, but I use Tinder for attention. You know, when you’re having a bad day and the florescent lighting in the bathroom makes you feel less than adequate – just open up Tinder and odds are there are at least three “hey beautiful,” “hey cutie,” or “you’re real gorgeous” messages from the plethora of men , or women, you’ve “liked.” Of course, most normal people like David, Sean and Thomas use it to find various, willing hook-ups for just a night of fun. I’ll pass on those thanks – I just want the compliments.
I always wonder (read here: sarcastically) why when the male suitors of the Tinder world ask “why are you on here, you’re so attractive” blah blah blah, and I answer with “to get attention” that they stop talking to me.
When I was first introducing one of my friends to the app, she thought it was creepy to message the guys she matched with. I assured her that everything about Tinder is creepy so it was perfectly okay. She thanked me in the end.
Some of the best conversations can come out of that first message you perceive as being creepy. Carlton and I discussed our futures (as in what I want to do with my life and what he wants to do with his, not ours as in his and my future together – just to be clear), and even ended up exchanging numbers. No talk of sexual relations of any kind was ever discussed and I only mentioned his level of attractiveness, like, twice. Just life talk, man. It was one of the best right swipes I have ever made. I don’t think I “play” right, though – yes, some users refer to Tinder as a game. I take my time to look through the pictures of each possible candidate and “like” or “pass” respectively after careful consideration. Sometimes, though, if your first photo is ugly as sin, if you have the same photo twice, if you have a photo of your car, or you with what appears to be your girlfriend – PASS. Other times, I accidentally swipe the wrong way and either I’m stuck with a match I did not want, or the face of an angel is gone forever. Or I’ll just judge you on how much I like your name.
Others, “like” everyone and sort through the “butterfaces” (everything’s-good-but-her-face) and “shovels” (she-looks-like-she-got-hit-in-the-face-with-a-shovel) later. Still others only “like” the good-looking ones: according to HuffPost’s unwritten rules of Tinder: one must be good looking in order to successfully use the app.
A tip for all the Tinderers out there: don’t use a picture of you and an animal. Some boys (and yes, I use the word boys on purpose) “like” you and message you only to get disappointed that you aren’t the horse/cat/dog/insert whatever animal here that is pictured and proceed to tell you that you are misleading them.
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