When you go through a dating slump and haven’t been on a date in a while, the peer pressure to join Tinder is bound to seep in.
1. At 11:00 pm, I joined Tinder and grew immensely critical of the men before me. If they’ve linked it to their profiles, I’ve begun to screen everything from their pictures, bio and Instagram. Their bio especially, I’m beginning to think I’m here to read Tinder bios more than anything. Heck, I would probably make one hell of a private detective too.
2. Two hours later, and I’m still swiping left. My friends and I soon realised that I was a ‘likes prude’ and told me I should be kinder with my likes. Fine.
3. I become slightly kinder with my likes, so 1 out of 50 men swiped to the right.
4. It’s 2:00 am already, and I should probably quit swiping and go to sleep already… But I said that an hour ago. My judgement is gravely impaired and the only people I’ll match with right now, will probably be curious swiping addicts who just so happened to have joined and drunkards. Those odds don’t sound too bad, so I keep swiping until I fall asleep.
5. I wake up to a few matches on Tinder; how thrilling! I swipe some more.
6. One of my matches asks me if I’ve had a ‘wild night’… And I realise I should have gone to sleep a lot earlier yesterday. I tell him about my Friday evening at the museum – Delacroix and the Rise of Modern Art – followed by a delightful Turkish dinner, which must have blown him out the water. He asks me out on a date. Wait, what? Do I go out on a date with this stranger I know absolutely nothing about, who has seen nothing but my picture and bio and suddenly wants a date?! He didn’t even ask how Delacroix was! The horror!… Could I date a man who knows nothing of Delacroix? Rubens? Courbet? I could be a murderer, a notorious kingpin in the trade of illegal organ harvesting. He must be insane! I don’t know this man, nothing!
7. Eventually, I calm down, catch my breath, and binge-watch House of Cards on Netflix instead.
8. I brave myself and realise that if I have to think about whether or not to go on a date with someone I JUST met on Tinder, who may or may not want to harvest my organs, let alone considers the possibility that I may harvest his organs, I probably shouldn’t bother at all. I unmatch myself with him and continue to swipe left more than right, sorry buddy.
9. Moments later, I come across a man with nothing but emojis in his bio, wondering if this is what it will be like from now on while I eat ice cream. Ah, sweet impending doom.