So, observant readers may have noticed both a lack of posts of late, for which I truly apologise… And truly attentive readers, well-endowed in the memory department, may indeed recall a post about dating earlier this year. Well, the two may are intrinsically linked as I have *drumroll please* recently decided to join Tinder. I’ve dabbled a bit in online dating in the past as regular blog readers might be aware, but never with a great deal of success and never on Tinder. But following a not so brief hiatus from the world of online dating, I have decided to give it a second chance and get back in that saddle.
I am sure most of you savvy types out there know all about Tinder. Recently hailed by Vanity Fair as creating a ‘dating apocalypse’ (well that’s cheerful!) it’s a mobile phone app designed to facilitate dating opportunities/casual hook-ups through the easy medium of swiping on a profile picture. It’s right for yes & left for no ta, not in a month of Sundays. All you have to go on to make such a momentous decision are a picture (sometimes several) and perhaps a brief description of who they are, what they are looking for, and witticism or two (if you’re lucky… you’re often not). It’s mildly addictive, swiping through profiles with the speed and proficiency of a *retro reference alert* 1980’s Daley Thompson’s Decathlon enthusiast. Searches for your ideal match can be refined by proximity and age, meaning if you cast your net wide enough, you have a veritable feast of mankind with whom to flirt. And I do loves myself a feast of mankind. If you have swiped right on a chap (or indeed chappess, let’s not be too sexist/hetero normative here) and they similarly have swiped right on you, then IT’S A MATCH and you can get down to the serious subject of a natter, with potentially a date/ casual hookup (as per your own preferences) in the offing if you play your cards right.
Now, what with my living in London, and there being a vast pool of men into which one can dip ones toes (the pool, not the men. Ew), I decided early on that there ought to be some method to my madness, some science to my swiping. As such, I have applied some rules to my ‘swipe criteria’ all of which are guaranteed to get a left swipe from me:
Nudity
There is a fair amount of nudity on Tinder…. and not always in a good way. Luckily I haven’t yet fallen foul of the dick pic, however in a manner similar to a silver backed gorilla seeking his primal (primate?) partner in crime, there is an awful lot of chest baring. Thus, one of my first ground rules is never swipe for a nudie. After all, if that’s the first thing they think entices a member of the opposite sex to swipe right, they have another think coming… for me at least.The selfie
Now, I don’t mind a selfie. I have been known to pop off a few myself, however if a man has not yet got to grips with the reverse camera phone switcheroo & can only snap a pic of himself, David Baileying into a mirror then I don’t want to know. Technology has moved on peoples, get with the programme. Oh, and while we’re at it, what is it with men taking pictures of themselves in the mirror of quite obviously public toilets? It only makes me wonder if they’ve washed their hands, and quite frankly, that does not a romantic moment make. As for the unfortunate chap that also included his obviously curious family members in said bathroom photo (mmmm sexy), I have no words.
The LOL
I dislike a LOL. More than that, I detest it. It sings to my grammar pedantry and hatred of pointless abbreviation. We’re not operating in 1998! We're allowed more than 160 characters per text nowadays y’know! *grrs* For these reasons a LOL infuriate me, however, the absolute worst thing about a lol is the insincerity of it all. A laugh out loud, did you? DID YOU REALLY? Or did you merely raise the glimmer of a smile??? A mere upward curving of a lip in response to a cat doing a weird thing on the internet or something. And don’t get me started on a ROFL. When was the last time you actually saw someone rolling on the floor laughing that wasn’t a squealing toddler, veering wildly between hysterical laughter and the ever present risk of incontinence? NEVER. That’s when! So when a LOL appears in a description, it’s swiping left they go, and good riddance too.
CAVEAT: Exceptions to the LOL rule include dearly loved members of family, friends, and those old enough not to know any better. None of whom I’m looking to date.
My final, and perhaps most crucial ground rule is no describey, no likey. So many of these profiles have precisely zero to say for themselves, literally. All photos, no words. And while some of your carefully selected snaps may tell me something about you (Mr Man on the Overland with his freshly purchased loo roll, I’m looking at you), nothing says I can’t be arsed more than an absence of a profile description. After all, if you’re silent in your profile, I dread to think what you’re like on a date, and I’m certainly not looking to date a monk undertaking a vow of silence.
One would think that with a raft of deal breakers such as these, that the pool would be rapidly diminished (& we haven’t even mentioned how many potential partners’ rules my profiles has broken. Plenty I’m sure!), however this is not the case. I have a number of pre-Christmas dates set up, and at the very least it’s better than sitting on me tod watching Masterchef Professionals. However, if one of them turns up, fresh out of the loo, camera phone grasped in soggy hand, semi naked, interspersing a loudly bellowed LOL with utter silence, I may have to reconsider my views. But until then, wish me luck!
