Life Relationships A Tinder user’s first time

A Tinder user’s first time

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Twenty-four hours ago I started using Tinder.

I know what you’re thinking but no, this isn’t a ‘how to’ tutorial, or a ‘five types of people you’ll meet on Tinder’ warning piece, nor is it a deconstructive analysis of how Tinder is responsible for the death of romance (trust me, it’s not – nightclubs did that already).

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I am merely writing to you to express that some people are generally terrible at Tinder. The past twenty-four hours have proven that I am one of those people.

I thought I would be good at this because most of the time I like the internet version of me over the real me. The real me is always so tired. The internet me is so great.

What’s more, the app’s sleek interface and easy-to-use, anonymous programming suck you in, whispering softly in your ear, “You can be anyone … anyone … anyonnneee”.

So I tweaked my profile becoming the Tinder Tom below:

Tom whose interests include typical white people things like reality television, tennis, art, pastries and dinner.

With my new, highly-constructed profile, I took to the streets (of Tinder) to test how likeable I was.  I swiped left a lot of times before I found someone worthy of my right-swipe.

This was a satisfying feeling after swiping left for so long – the nibble of RSI that had started after the first hour was dispelled.

Now I just had to wait to be right-swiped back so a conversation could begin.

After twenty minutes, a full-blown identity crisis took over. No one liked me. If they didn’t like Tinder me, they definitely weren’t going to like real life me.

Mid-existential crisis, I decided to call my Tinder Tutor, who we shall fondly call ‘J’ for purposes of anonymity. J has had some success in the Tinder dating-sphere. “Success” can be defined as ‘none of her dates have been serial killers or rapists’. I recommend a Tinder Tutor for anyone starting out in the terrifying world of online dating.

J talked me down off the ledge with wise words about being patient and taking it slow. Don’t rush into it, don’t panic. Would have been great advice had I taken it.

During our phone call, I received two ‘matches’ so I swiftly ended the conversation to talk to my new admirers. ADMIRERS.

My first attempt:

No reply to this. Did I come on too strong? Should I just have said ‘hey’? Maybe that’s still too warm. With that early rejection I waited a full eight minutes before embarking on my next attempt:

What on earth does that mean? “Having a glass”? Were you glassed? Are you suffering from a concussion because of said glassing? Is that why you didn’t reciprocate with another question furthering the conversation?

Tinder was proving to be a place of rejection, poor punctuation and shallow conversation.

Seventeen minutes after my sincere dialogue with the glassing victim, I received another match. This guy had cool style, was slightly older and his profile spelled “Tom’s future husband” clearly:

We got a bit further that time. I had a question asked about me… But then clearly I was too eager. Was it the use of ‘Groundhog Day’ that scared him away? Was it the honest humour? Or was it the attempt to continue the conversation? We will never know because he has been ‘radio silence’ since then. Like I said, husband material.

After my hat trick of Tinder blunders, I decided to call it a night at 8.17 pm. I lasted four minutes before I was swiping again. I fell asleep swiping.

The next morning I woke up to two new matches. Surprised, I forgot J’s advice to be patient and take it slow. I rushed in. I realised my classic starting line ‘Hey, how’s your day going?’ couldn’t work at 7.16 a.m. so I had to come up with something new and original.

J suggested mentioning the weather, but that wasn’t very me. I thought something more out there like ‘how are you’ would do the trick. Attempt number four began like this:

I don’t even know. I can’t tell you how it happened. It was a blur. Needless to say, he never replied to that one. The weather was great for any keen meteorologists out there. Four for four. Maybe fifth time lucky?

Five strikes and I was out.

So, dear reader, I am writing this to you to let you know Tinder just doesn’t work for some people. My attempts resulted in five silent rejections and definitely deflated any ego I had going into this social experiment.

For anyone doing well on Tinder, I commend you. If you stumble across my profile, don’t right-swipe me for fear of partaking in the most awkward conversation of your life.

From now on I’ll just stick to meeting future husbands the old fashioned way – nightclubs.

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