Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Tinder.

We all know this,
but Tinder is the worst.

But maybe it'll be fun!
you think.
It works for other people.

But you're wrong
nearly every time.

All that happens
is you become obsessed
with sifting through
pictures of strangers,
ages 23-29,
who live within 20 miles of you.

You end up
reinforcing your stereotypes,
boxing yourself into
a narrower and narrower space.

Any boy
who has a picture
of himself skiing
or on a four-wheeler
or who says that his hobbies
are Crossfit
or watching Netflix
is
instantly
out.

You take a chance
on a boy
with a funny About Me.
Whose pictures
make him look like
he could carry on
a 30-minute conversation.

You swipe right.
And you match!
What a thrill.

The carefully curated gallery
of the least unphotogenic
pictures of you
that you could find
somehow,
miraculously,
did the trick.

Or maybe,
your heart hopes,
he actually read
your carefully edited About Me
and thinks you seem interesting!

A girl can dream.

One time in ten,
one of your matches messages you!

And then the battle of wit begins,
trading clever quips back and forth,
weaving in
the mundane details of your life
that everyone who actually knows you
already knows.

Because--
don't forget--
you're talking
to
a
stranger.

And even though
this conversation will go nowhere,
and you probably
will never meet,
let alone go on a date,
you wait anxiously between messages.

What will he say?
Did my witty quip
leave a door open
for him to send
a witty quip back?

You look over his pictures
again and again.
He can't actually
be a psychopath,
can he?
He looks nice, right?
I like having
this strained
electronic
conversation.

The truth is,
you're ever only moments away
from typing,
"Oh wait,
I actually don't care about you
because we've never met
and I have nothing invested in this.
K, bye."

But that might be mean.
So you just delete the app.


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