Love Me Tinder

I resisted it for as long as possible. Even as it seemed every dinner time in college was taken up bitching about various people’s awkward matches with other various people they already vaguely knew, I concluded there’s no way Tinder could ever be as time-efficient as Babylove for its purpose.

I would never want to second-guess Ri Ri’s motivations, but I’m pretty sure in writing “We Found Love (In A Hopeless Place)”, a sweaty dungeon with pole would have matched her vision much more closely than a sofa-full of students in the JCR slightly moving their thumbs.

Things changed when I returned home for the vac. It turns out that my confidence in my mate-finding abilities greatly diminishes upon moving for six weeks from a city filled with shit clubs and horny students to a village where the lead story in the local magazine is usually about car park charges.

Half a day after getting home, therefore, I made one of the most incredible discoveries of my life. Every eligible young person within a twenty-five mile radius was at my thumb-tip (don’t judge me; for twenty miles around there are less people than cows).

Tinder- Oxford BNOC approved

Some may argue that this was a waste of time; I contend that it was one of the most fucking entertaining things I’ve ever got out of a smartphone. There are two main things people with Tinder don’t tell you before you get it. The first is that there is next to no chance you will actually find anyone you want to go out with, sleep with, or even meet up with on it. The second is that, by the time you’ve got it, you won’t care.

Tinder is nothing more than a horrible, judgmental, brilliant game. It’s quite simple: if you think someone appeals to your societally manipulated perception of beauty based on four carefully chosen photos from their Facebook, you swipe right. Unless you accidentally swipe the incredibly sensitive screen the wrong way and Gorgeous McBeautiful is lost forever. If they don’t fulfil those strict criteria (or they do but write something in the ‘about’ section which makes you fear for your safety), left is the only way for them.

It gives you the false impression that your opinion rules: your quick judgment on other people’s appearance is what validates them or rejects them. Which is awful, but I’m afraid to say it’s also really fucking addictive.

With a bit of luck you’ll match with someone as tinderlicious as Barry

The fact that you aren’t actually going to meet anyone using it doesn’t seem relevant by the time you’ve amassed fifty matches and are happily flicking away with your all-powerful thumb. Tinder is a worldwide game of Hot Or Not where everyone is playing but you only ever find out when you’re winning. It’s genius; but it’s probably going to achieve about as much for you as three solid hours on Fruit Ninja.