Two Men (and a Girl) in a Boat

Tinder. The dating phonomenon that is extending online dating from desperate middle aged divorcees to single students looking for a bit of fun. With 400 million users, I was no exception when I downloaded the infamous app.

For those who haven’t used Tinder, you should probably read how it is used before you get trigger happy with the swipes. I, on the other hand dove straight into it flicking through the different profiles. Swiping through the different accounts, I was blissfully unaware that a swipe to the left meant ‘yes’ and instead thought that I was merely browsing through the profiles. A week later I had fifty matches, and only realised how to use it properly when I started receiving late night messages from 49-year-old Duncan from Fife with two photos of a fuzzy side profile and a cat. I just wrote it off that I had just been “drunk tindering” (yes, this is real and do not try it wearing beer goggles unless you fancy receiving inappropriate messages from ginger Geography students at Napier).

Playing around on the app, one of my mistaken matches messages me, and let’s just say he wanted to do more than “come” on a date. Sitting in Tigerlily my friend and I were laughing along as the boy gave me explicit details on how to reach his flat, what buzzer and who to ask for. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realised that he was closer than the three mile radius which my setting was set to.

“Lucinda, LOOK” Beth screamed pulling back the curtains and pointing at the blue door opposite the street. Still unsure why she had dragged me over to the window, she showed me his address, it was the flat opposite me. Feeling like one of those girls in horror films when they realise that they’re the next victim, I quickly blocked him off my tinder and deleted my account.

So no, I have not been murdered by my tindering faux-pas but only had to make an awkward head turn in the meadows on the one encounter and a lesson learned to read the tin before use.