Do you still use Tinder? If you’re like me and have eaten more Dates than you’ve been on, this dating game is likely sitting amongst the other monotonous applications on your phone. If not, I get it. There are too many apps on the market for you to have just honed in on the one that made the biggest splash. There’s Match.com for serious relationships. OKCupid for friends with benefits (largely with couples of substantially different ages). Bumble, where the women must talk first, and then there’s Coffee Meets Bagel where, um, men will receive 21 “Bagels,” or women, which they can ‘like’ or ‘pass’ on for a brief, yet forgettable respite at a failed scriptwriter-filled Starbucks. Sorry, I’m still stuck on that last one and why we are referring to human women as a spherical-shaped carbohydrate. Please advise in the comments how, in the grand scheme of things, such a monstrous proposition managed to secure funding on its way to boasting on its site that over 650 couples find this aforementioned bagel love each week.
I’m not sure how I got so off-track, this should be about Tinder. My apologies. Ahh, Tinder. The app for whatever you currently need when you’re at your most drunkest. Want to feel loved? Tinder’s here. Want to flirt? You got it! Ditching the long-term relationship in favor of a quick carnal escapade? Tinder is here for you to make that fateful mistake and hate yourself that much quicker. In all honestly, I’ve tried almost all of these dating apps. As someone who often feels like the male equivalent of the lonely, recyclable bag in Katy Perry’s smash hit “Firework,” I usually replace the warm feeling of love with either matchmaking services or hot pockets. However, once my hunger dissolves in less than an hour, much akin to everyone’s favorite mermaid and logophile Ariel, I want more. So I download the Tinder app, which I routinely delete and download once or twice a month on average. I’m super fun.
Even though I’ve only been on a handful of Tinder dates, I find the experience enthralling. It gives me a sense of giddiness, like the Kool Aid man might feel once President Trump finally assembles another useless wall for him to smash through. It’s exciting to see that someone, somewhere, feels, through just a photo and small description, that they would like to spend time with you! What a joy! Someone likes me outside of just the stray cat who lives outside my apartment complex – what a moment for me!
I’ll be blatantly honest, the first time I downloaded the app, I swiped right 467 times just to find out my demographic. Regardless, it feels nice to feel wanted. I think as humans, we constantly crave affection. Much like dogs, we are attracted to that which is attracted to us, simply due to the fact that the feeling of being desired is an emotion that is so rarely felt.
I’m ranting again. Apologies. Nonetheless, during my travels on the journey of love, I’ve come across a foolproof (98.9% success rate) plan for getting someone to respond. No matter what. It never fails. If it fails you after reading this, I am sorry. But It has ALWAYS worked for me. It’s called ‘The Mustache Man,’ and it is exactly how it sounds. I begin by sending the mustachioed man emoji, without any context. Immediately, I respond, frantically. “I did not mean to send that,” I lie. Then I add one more piece – “this has started off terribly.” As the great Bruno Mars once crooned, “don’t believe me, just watch.”
It even works for women looking for a male friend, as one of my friends kindly tested…. albeit, in the most unusual way.
Why does this work? I have a theory. I would argue that the hardest thing to convey on an app where, honestly, 20% of people are robots, spambots or horrible people looking to extort you, is that you aren’t a terrible person. By showcasing that you’re prone to failure, or that you have haphazardly sabotaged yourself once again, you are humanizing yourself in a way that’s not only appealing, but REAL. You’ve begun your quest for love by portraying this assumption that you’re not perfect, but rather, you are flawed. You make mistakes, but are readily able to admit them, apologize for them and address them head-on. Who wouldn’t feel bad for that person? Who wouldn’t want to find out more about that person?
Dating is hard. It’s insanely difficult, as everyone who has downloaded Tinder can understand, so when a person seemingly adds an emoji of the every-Dad without any substance whatsoever, it’s funny, it’s relatable, it’s endearing.
One thing I’d like to convey is that I am not bragging about how I’ve figured out how to trick another person via dating applications. Let me be clear: if you treat people without respect, and carry yourself harmfully on these apps, or if you use inappropriate language or share graphic imagery without consent, you are scum. I’m not trying to be bumptious that my stupid, little pickup line has worked. Quite the contrary – as all this move was meant to do is start a conversation. There’s much more work on your end that needs to get done, but at least this gets your foot in the door. It gives you a fighting chance, which is sometimes, all a person needs.
On an app full of unsolicited phallic photos and robots looking to wipe out your bank account, it’s nice to connect with an adorkably kind, exceedingly normal, human being. Be nice to each other, be yourselves to each other and maybe, just maybe, you’ll be telling your kids one day about that fateful story of the time you and your significant other swiped right… and the rest was history.