Stop it Tinder, but not really

I downloaded Tinder last week.

I wasn’t sure if I should, because creepy, but a pretty girl that I once worked with said she was on it so I figured it was fine. I didn’t know what to expect, I didn’t want to tell anyone I used it, I was afraid to swipe anyone right, and I certainly was petrified I would bump into someone I knew on the Tindernet. What if everyone laughs at me? Quickly, though, I overcame those fears.

Tinder is an innovation in online speed dating that fills the most shallow, self-absorbed parts of me like HotorNot never quite could. I’d like to take this moment to point out that I have never swiped anyone right that was not an immediate match (toot toot), except for one time. The emotional damage of knowing someone I thought was hot didn’t think I was hot too quickly disappeared when a few short minutes later I was notified that he did, in fact, think I was pretty, he just hadn’t seen me yet. Match. 100% success rate. #winningattinder

Now, while I’ve only been playing Tinder for two short weeks, I have experiences I want to remember … forever. I’ve taken notes on paper, but this is 2014 and fuck paper. We are in the digital age: where notes are taken on computers, dating is done on iPhones, and 50-year-old men send topless selfies to unsuspecting 20-somethings because they think it will make me want to meet him in Chicago and “get dirty” with his sweaty, sunburned moobs. This page now exists so I can keep close record of all the hilarious, stupid, idiotic, embarrassing things people say when they think they’re being clever.

I often see pictures of men and wonder, “Why are they even on here? They can’t possibly have trouble getting dates.” But it rarely takes more than a few swift keystrokes, a minute or two of messaging, to know exactly why they can’t get dates. It’s because they’re idiots. Posting their lame (amazing) attempts at being clever is my 20-fucking-14, digital-age, paperless way of telling them to just stop it.