THERE ARE NO WOMEN IMPOSSIBLE TO INFLAME. SOME MEN SIMPLY USE SWEAT MATCHES TO DO THAT… I’ll help you with a real estate sale, buy, rent.
The “Log in with Facebook” button had been confusing me for several weeks. Why? Why the hell does Tinder need my Facebook? What if it starts posting something like “This week, Lesley was brave enough to write 25 messages to handsome guys! Wanna know how many of them replied? Join Tinder!” to my friends’ newsfeeds?
It sent a chill up my spine.
But then… Summer came, my diet didn’t allow me to eat my favorite pancakes, I was intolerably sad, and I concluded that the time had come.
The best thing about Tinder — and the #1 reason for its popularity — is its simplicity and initial mutuality. You can message to a person only if you mutually swipe each other’s profiles. “It’s a match!” the application crows and suggests to “share it with friends” (I wouldn’t mind seeing the statistics of using this option). In other words, your chances of getting a message from “big_dick, 45” are minimal. What? Is it your character type? Sorry, then. Love and concord to you both.
Send me a clever joke.
In the supermarket, they asked if I am 21. I said that I didn’t gage…
I’ve made some rules for creating a Tinder account:
- Don’t post selfies, especially high-quality ones.
- Don’t refuse meetings, but do have them in crowded places.
- Reply to the first message.
- Tell no lies.
After checking several dozens of profiles, I’ve determined my “red flags:”
- Guys who are topless in mirrors — topless in gym mirrors, topless in mirrors in sunglasses.
- Guys with one-photo profiles, especially if the pic is topless and faceless. Gosh, you are not in the international search! (I hope.)
- Guys with girls in their photos. I have no time and desire to guess whether it’s a sister or a mother.
- Guys with photoshopped pics.
- Guys with selfies.
My limits have weeded out about 70% of my options. With nothing to lose, I’ve started to examine the remaining 30%.
Tinder sessions remind me of supermarket visits. You might complain about prices and queues. You might go for toothpaste but come home with spaghetti, shampoo, tons of chocolate bars, and bubble gum. But you go there anyway!
A Shopping List
Designer, introvert, Libro, night owl, a left-hander.
If you are a vegan, feminist, child-free, sex free — down, devil!
Travels, arts, math, bicycle, tattoos, minimalism, books, graphic novels, vegan food.
… bread, milk, cucumbers.
A Glossy Magazine Stand
It’s at the entry of the Tinder supermarket, so you won’t miss it. It also shares expert thoughts on your body.
“Hm… you are no biggie.”
“Is this a shadow or your unshaved armpit?”
Or your character:
“I see your sense of humor is OK.”
“So, good, you are not a freak!”
Moreover, guys feel it’s necessary to give advice from the very first message:
“Don’t swear! You are a lady, after all!”
“Speak the same language, okay?!”
It reminds me articles from glossy magazines paraphrasing one and the same thing a la “you are beautiful, but check these ten dresses to whitewash your figure and try these seven ways to become slim.”
Educating a woman doesn’t equal teaching her to bring you slippers in a mouth, endure beatings, and do a blowjob. Educating a woman means teaching her to present herself so that she was infinitely desirable and faithful to you.
You can substitute the word “woman” with “dog,” and nothing changes, even the blowjob part.
In sex, I am not an achiever but explorer. The goal is not to f**k Liz today and Melanie tomorrow. Now it’s more interesting to pock around inside a girl.
Run, Lesley, run!
An Education and Quick Credits Stand
“So, how is New York, babe?” one of my matches within thirty minutes of our meeting. In Chicago. On the phone. And, I tried to keep my jaw from hitting the table.
Another one whispered, “Hello… Yes… I am on my way already… Okay… I’ll call you.” It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to detect his mother wasn’t beside him at that moment.
“Take your tits and come to me,” nice-looking Barney replied to my first message, as I admired his cat from the profile pic. “Report to your cat that his master is an idiot.” With so many Barneys on Tinder, none could examine the efficiency of this pickup style. I conducted the experiment and replied to them something like “Take your income certificate and come to me.” No one agreed.
A Refund Department
Gentlemen canceling a meeting an hour before its time, — it happened to me four (!) times — I’ll tell you a secret. As a rule, ladies spend this hour shaping up for the meeting. And by shaping up, I mean washing my hair. Don’t even think of underestimating the significance of this procedure. Just don’t.
What do we have in a single sentence?
- 246 matches;
- 107 “likes;”
- 138 men were first to reply to my message;
- 13 conversations ended with real-life meetings.
This month of Tinder has entirely killed the “first date fright.” It has helped me understand everyone’s desire to look better online. Also, it has leveled down my interest: Giving someone a second chance after his canceled meeting or lame joke felt lazy; after all, it took just 15 minutes to find someone else.
Long story short, don’t hurry up to look to the stars after a single clever dialogue on Tinder.
Do I use Tinder now? Nope.
Am I disappointed? Not at all. One guy introduced me to his girlfriend, who writes interesting stories about feminism, and another told me about an educational lecture I visited afterward.
Do I recommend Tinder? Let me respond with a motivational quote:
“Don’t give up hope. There could be only one swipe between you and Ryan Gosling.”