Men of Adelaide (*who are over the age of 20 but under 28, live in a 15km radius of my current location, and have a job…sorry to be discriminative), you might want to grab the closest tissue box. I have an announcement to make. It is with great sadness, but at the same time, a very fulfilling and liberating sense of superiority, that I announce my retirement from the both fantastic and fucked up dating app that is Tinder. After a semi successful Tinder career of six months, I have decided to close my Tinder account for good (or until I have a dip in self confidence, in which case I’ll sign up again for an instant confidence boost!). Whhhhhhyyyyyyy?!?!, I hear all of my matches who never had the balls to message me, or couldn’t think of an original or clever enough pick up line to meet my very low standards, cry in agony. I know this must come as a shock to you all, and you probably may never understand why I am making this life changing decision. It’s not you, it’s me. Ha lel, it is actually kind of about you. I’ll attempt to explain myself in full in just a second, but essentially it comes down to one thing: I found my dignity again!
My relationship with Tinder pretty much resembles a rollercoaster. But not really in the traditional way one uses a rollercoaster to explain their experiences, eg: OMG Tinder is such an emotional rollercoaster, it’s lk one minute I’m hot and all da boyz wanna match with me, and then the next nobody is matching with me, wtf? No, I’m saying that my Tinder experience is literally exactly like how it feels to ride on a rollercoaster – the excitement of waiting in line, sitting down and grabbing onto the safety bar in anticipation, the slow incline upwards until the rush of adrenaline and happiness as you speed downwards. But then you start to feel sick, and you wish you could get off, and then once you have both feet on the ground, you wonder why you even went on the ride in the first place…and then, if you’re me, you line up and do it all over again coz you just never learn! The first time that I became aware of the existence of Tinder was at a girlfriend’s house for pre drinks. Sitting around sipping wine (just in case you’re new here and aren’t familiar with my writing style – by sipping, I mean sculling, and by wine, I mean Fruity Lexia) a few of the gals started talking about their latest Tinder matches. At first, I was merely amused, albeit curious, but by the time we got to the Cumby, I was yelling to anyone who would listen ‘I’M GONNA GET TINDER FIRST THING TOMORROW WOOOO!!!’ And why the bloody hell not? I’ve been a single lady for a few years now, I thought to myself, and obviously my current technique of starring at hot guys awkwardly while I took their coffee order, or on the bus wasn’t working so great, so what did I have to lose from giving it a crack?
I will never forget my first night as a Tinder gal. The feeling of quiet excitement and the anticipation of the unknown started to build as I clicked on the sexy flame icon and set my search parameters. Then, I was thrust into the ocean of endless possibilities of potential boyfriends (ha, good joke Amy!), and my thumb began to glide across the screen – right, left, right, right, right, right, right…you get the picture, I was pretty keen! I kept going, swiping left, but mostly swiping right. And then it happened. I received my first match, with Dylan, a 26 year old fitness trainer and self described “stress free cat”. Everything changed. My excitement levels went from ‘yay, High School Musical 3 is on channel 9 tonight!’ to ‘OH MY FUCKING GOD ZAC EFRON IS STANDING NAKED IN MY ROOM, TAKE ME NOW!!!!!’ My self confidence started rising at a rapid rate, and all of a sudden, I wasn’t me anymore, I was Miranda Kerr – a mega goddess that no Tinder boy could refuse. I kept swiping right, and the matches kept rolling in, and before I knew it, I felt like a fucking ten outta ten, and I was responding to multiple heeeyyyyyy’s from my multiple matches.
For a while, life was great. I quickly became something of a Tinder expert. Probably the most important piece of advice I could give an aspiring Tinder temptress is, always stop to look at all of a guy’s photos. You must do this for a few reasons. A) Some guys think that making their profile picture a shot of them in camo paintballing gear, complete with a gas mask, makes them look like a dangerous and sexy daredevil. Only problem? No one will want to fuck you if they can’t see your face mate! B) More importantly, taking the time to stop and browse the talent will prevent you from going into auto pilot, which makes you susceptible to accidently swiping left when you meant to swipe right, and losing your future husband/soul mate forever.
I’ve had some great times on Tinder. For me, the highlight would have to be reading all the hilarious one liners. Some of my favourites include:
- Alex, 22, 652 km away (I swear he was closer when I swiped right..) – hey wasssssuuuuuupppp
- Alex, 24, five km away – Keen? Or not keen? But you must be keen if you swiped right, right?
- Tom, 22, 14 km away – It’s your lucky night Amy! I’m the large, Italian stallion you have been searching for boo 😀
- Declan, 21, 13 km away – Love a red head!!!
- Michael, 21, six km away – So I’m guessing from your about me, you like the sun, dancing, and kissing? Wow, we have so much in common! I too love kissing and the sun, and if drunk enough, dancing! We should go on a date!
- Tom, 23, eight km away – Tell you what Amy, I’m stewing in my own juices over here, come calm me down. ??
- Marc, 27, 10 km away – Hey! For something random, we should meet up right now! I’ll pop your Tinder cherry 😉
- Lyle, 22, 13 km away – FYI you look very hot, very kissable lips!
- Matt, 18 (this was before I realised you could set an age range), four km away – So I’m looking for a friends with benefits situation where the girl would come over and we would make love and then she would leave…do you think you could fulfil that position?
I did end up going on a few Tinder dates, which I found to be quite a scary experience in the beginning. Coming out from behind the iPhone, and actually having to try and make non awkward conversation with a complete stranger who is really hot is pretty hard, because you have to think of funny things to say at the same time as trying to look pretty/attractive at all times. The success of said dates was varied. There was one guy who, after what I thought was an awesome first date, just suddenly became unavailable, and stopped replying to me all together (he probs found a real life gf…lucky bastard!). Then there were a few in the middle, who were just kind of like meh, and I didn’t really peruse it further. There was also one absolute dick who shall rename nameless – *cough* Lyle – who last time I saw him was exiting my house at two am without saying goodbye after he asked me ‘what’s your number? First of all, that is a really creepy and weird question to be asking someone you haven’t known for very long, and secondly, if you’re not going to be happy with the answer you get, then probs don’t ask the question in the first place. Looking back now, I’m struggling to figure out how we actually managed to have sex considering he has no balls, what so ever. And then there was, or is, one who I still see from time to time.
However, in the end, what I’ve come to realise is that I am never going to find what I’m looking for on Tinder. Take this guy I met; let’s call him Bryce (after Carlton hottie Bryce Gibbs of course, yum). Literally my type to a tee, he seemed to be everything I was looking for in a new friend: fun, super hot, friendly, and plays footy. But the more I hung out with him, the more I saw that, actually, he’s a jerk. You want an example? I’ll give you examples! We’d be cuddling in bed, naked of course, and he’d have one arm around me while texting with the other hand. I’m not a psycho bitch. It’s fine for you to send a quick text. But what’s not ok is when you’re on the phone the entire time I’m with you, and also when the charger cord is stretched tightly across my neck from my side of the bed to you, making me unable to move, or breath. He also talked about other girls in front me, like almost every time I was with him. Was this supposed to make me jealous, and more into him? Coz it worked, and I found you irresistible, so if you happen to be reading this, could you please stop? K thanks. But the thing that annoyed me the most, is that everything was on his terms. I only got to hang out with him when he wanted. He was an ok guy when we were together, but then when I msgd him to see if he wanted to grab a drink or catch a movie, he’d blow me off. Dick.
So basically, what I’m trying to articulate here, is that while Tinder has done wonders for my confidence, and I now realise that I’m a hot piece of ass (and that having a fetish for rangas is an actual thing…), it can also be kind of damaging. Maybe that’s not true for those that are able to compartmentalise, and only think with their penis, but for those who are like me, and struggle to separate the physical from the emotional, Tinder probs isn’t the best place for you. Also, romantics, or people that wish that their lives were like a Disney movie should stay away too. Now, I’m defs not immune to having a shallow streak, and I do love scrolling through pictures of guys and judging them purely on how attractive I find them, but I feel like I’m at the point where I’ve outgrown some of the other things that Tinder encourage in people – game playing, power struggles, the uncertainty of not knowing where you stand with someone, and the hooking up void of any emotion. I’m not a sensitive gal, but you’ve got to give me something to show me you’re interested in more than just what’s under my clothes. So on that note, I say Sayonara Tinder. It’s been fun. And for any of my hundreds of matches that would like to contact me from now on, chuck us a friend request. Or even better, when you see me out, which you will, because Radelaide is inconveniently small, buy me a tequila shot. You’ll find that will give you a far increased chance of success. Cheers.