Though I may be choosing to remain anonymous to protect my dignity (the shreds that remain of it), I feel like this is an epidemic that needs to be discussed. A disease that has one time or another affected us all: namely, a tinder addiction.
The lucky few of you may have managed to find ‘true love’ whilst attending university: maybe you locked eyes with that special girl in Lizard Lounge who has an equally zealous passion for The Killers’ ‘Mr Brightside,’ or perhaps you and Keith both share the same reverence for sedimentary rocks. For the rest of us lonely souls however, there is Tinder: a dating app that allows us to swipe through a seemingly endless series of potential partners in our desperate attempt to stumble upon ‘the one’ (or perhaps just someone who remembers our name and doesn’t have a criminal record).
But why do we do it? After spending several hours (yes, I mean hours) on a cross-country train dismissing every Tom, Dick AND Harry, I forced myself to reflect upon the fact that I was investing more time into ‘online dating’ than my actual degree (sorry Thomas Hardy). What was the point? Not only were these people that I was never going to meet in person (bearing in mind I was swiping whilst on a train hundreds of miles from Bristol) but these were people that I had approved of/rejected solely because of their looks. Brad from Swindon might have a great set of abs, but did you know he’s actually a keen UKIP supporter?
After reflecting upon this exercise (if only swiping burned calories) I realised that as well as a form of procrastination, my love of Tinder was just another pathetic attempt to massage my own ego: golly I must be really good looking if Danny (age 25 from Cheshire who likes booze, banter and his border-collie) thinks so! Getting a ‘match’ or even ‘super-liked’ allows us to achieve a sense of validation without taking the risk of approaching someone in real life, or indeed committing to the financial cost of buying someone a drink a bar. Equally, if we’re being honest with ourselves, Tinder also allows us to feel superior to people – I might be alone, but at least I don’t advertise myself to the opposite sex with a picture of me and my Grandma on our most recent cruise to Benidorm.
However, the gratification offered by the promise of a Tinder match is always short-lived. I find that I emerge from my Tinder-hole more despairing than ever. My conversations with topless Brad are prematurely cut-short by his request for nudes, and it appears that I am no closer to finding someone who has the same appreciation for memes and unusual cheeses.
I’ve had an epiphany. Perhaps if I delete tinder and spend more time bettering myself, engaging with intellectual activities that improve the mind and enlighten the soul, I will increase my chances of finding Mr. Right. YES! This is what I must do !
(She says as she updates her pictures whilst sitting on the loo in the ASS)