Last year in an effort to continue with my streak of making bad decisions, I allowed myself to be peer pressured into joining Tinder. Yes, my friends, I found myself in the vortex of swiping left and right. It’s amazing how you can spend an entire Friday night sitting on the couch, binge watching the first season of the X-files, and eating your way to the bottom of a Doritos bag (the big one) while you exercise your index finger by swiping left or right in hopes of finding Prince Charming.
Let me save you the agony: Prince Charming isn’t on Tinder. And if he is, he’s just looking to touch your cervix.
For those of you who are happily involved in a monogamous relationships, those of you who fear online dating, or for the 4 of you who live under a rock let me explain how this works.
- Download the Tinder app
- Connect it to your Facebook profile
- Write a little summary about yourself and what you’re looking for. Include that you have zero interest in hook ups, one night stands, kinky fetishes, threesomes, and/or dating someone who has rage issues
- Upload some cute pictures of yourself
- Choose the age range of your target matches
- Choose the distance you’re willing to travel in hopes of meeting your match
- Start searching!!
- Scroll through zillions of profiles, swiping left for “oh god, my eyes can never unsee that,” or right for “oh god, let’s make a baby.”
- Hope that the dude you swiped right on also swipes right and BING you have a connection! Now you can communicate in the safety of the app
It is a total time suck. No joke, you literally can just spend hours swiping left and right. It’s a bit like time traveling – you look at the time that’s gone by and wonder how three hours could have possibly gone by and why you’re still single.
There came a time during my Tinder adventures when I was home alone, and drunk (shocking, I know), that I was pissed that I wasn’t getting enough matches. My solution? Widen the age range to 21-60 and just swipe right. Man did that make me feel popular! The sweet, sweet feeling of getting match after match was euphoric – kind of like what it must feel like after completing a marathon or reaching the top of Everest, only with far less exertion and zero requirement of physical fitness.
The next morning when I woke up I saw the horrors that were in my inbox. A hangover is bad. A hangover when you have to deal with Quasi Modo sending you dirty messages via an online dating app is even worse. It took me hours to delete all those dudes from the app.
There was one, however, who I did write back too. He was young. VERY young, too young for me. Yes, I’ve hit Cougar age, no I’m not ready to date or sleep with someone who could be mistaken for my son (except Zac Efron, I’d get up all over him and his hot body and I don’t care if someone thought I was his grandmother. I’d totally dirty touch him). So this guy was like 7 years old, but I gotta give him credit where credit is due. When you see what he wrote, you’re gonna want to meet him just so you could say, “cool move, bro,” and then high five him.
Check it out…(it’s okay, you won’t get fired for clicking the link)