You’d be hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t have a love/hate relationship with Tinder. Or, indeed, any dating app. Whether you’re a seasoned veteran or a shy newcomer, there’s definitely a pattern you’ll notice in each potential suitor’s profile.
“Wait. Do I know you?”
Whether it’s an ex-flame, a friend, a co-worker, or (god forbid) a family member, seeing a familiar face on Tinder is all at once jarring and hilarious. It’s probably best to swipe left and forget that ever happened (unless you like to play with fire. But prbs don’t do it… haha… unless?)
“Damn. I meant to swipe right.”
A modern-day tragedy. Your trigger-happy thumb, caught in the momentum of swiping left, accidentally casts away what was possibly (most definitely) your soulmate. DAMN. What now? Are you going to pay for Tinder premium to negate your mistake? I don’t know if you can fix the pre-premium-purchase mistake. Besides, things aren’t that desperate. Yet.
“That poor, poor dog.”
You know exactly what I’m talking about. Every other photo on Tinder involves a dog that looks like it’s being held hostage. PSA, please let that pooch go. You’re shamelessly using its unwilling cuteness to try and lure me into a right swipe! (it’s working but pls, I’m no longer interested in you, just your cute AF dog).
“Why are you holding a fish?!”
I don’t know why people think it’s attractive to have pictures of them holding freshly caught fish in their Tinder profile. Or any other hunting prize. In my Tinder adventures I’ve seen my fair share of deer, rabbit, and wild pig carcasses held up by a grinning khaki-adorned hunter with a rifle in their other hand. Not to mention, they’re always captured in awful lighting (and they never bother to fix the red-eye either, ugh). My question to you all remains the same: who exactly are you trying to attract with those pictures. Please, re-evaluate.
“Which one ARE you?”
The worst kind of people (yeah, worse than the game hunters), are the people with only group photos. And not a diverse range of group photos, it’s a gallery of group snaps where the same two or three people pop up every time. Am I supposed to sit here for ten minutes and try and decipher whose face matches your [lackluster] profile information? I didn’t sign up for Tinder to do puzzles.
Hot tip: if they only have group photos, it’s likely they’re not who you hope it is.
“I didn’t actually want them.”
There’s nothing more humbling than doing a pity or half-hearted swipe right and getting an immediate match. Those sobering moments of silence that follow are your wake up call. Your head was getting too big. What are you gonna do now? Unmatch? That’s just rude.
Check yourself, because you’ve just wrecked yourself.
“You were cute before we started messaging.”
Your photos made you look so sweet! Look at you cuddling that baby that you helpfully disclose as your nephew in your bio! Look at you hiking in nature! Holding puppies (again irresistible). Smiling candidly with a drink in hand, sunlight shining off your sunnies. Then you had to go and shatter the illusion with shit chat. Or worse, asking for nudes. Some things really are too good to be true, I suppose.
“Jesus. Give me SOMETHING.”
We’ve all matched with people who are conversational starfishes. The people who open with a gif (or solely communicate with gifs) doesn’t exactly give me room (or make me want) to get to know you better. And if it translates into a real-world date, how are we supposed to converse then? Act out a series of boomeranging animations? It takes two to tango. Work with me here.
“What the hell am I doing on here.”
It’s rough out there, folks. And Tinder is no different. Sure, you’ll meet the occasional person who makes the whole experience somewhat worthwhile.
But is it really worth trudging through seemingly endless lumps of coal in the hope of finding a diamond in the rough? Apparently, it is, because we keep coming back for more.
We’re a bunch of masochists. Sure. But at least we keep ourselves entertained.
Image Sources: Comedy Central, Giphy.