When I started seeing my ex-boyfriend I was 18 and our first date was organised using my gem-encrusted Nokia 3310.
Not long after he was given the (highest) honour of a place in my MySpace Top 8, (third after my two best mates, obviously, ovaries before brovaries and all that.)
Fast forward eight years and I’ve found myself newly single, and the dating game has changed dramatically.
I mean, if I thought it was brutal to angrily rearrange your friends list in a passive aggressive display of fury if the lad you fancied took too long to reply, then judge them on their shitty choice of song back in the days of MySpace, then I was in no way prepared for dating in an age of Facebook, Instagram and Tinder.
So let’s talk about Tinder shall we.
I want to start by saying I was 100%, definitely never, ever in a million years going to sign up.
So why the fuck did I?
Well, quite frankly, I suffer from a crippling case of being a nosey bitch and I can’t stand feeling left out of conversations.
So a few days ago – as I watched my mates swiping away whilst nonchalantly humming Beyonce’s ‘to the left to the left’ like the cruel wenches that they are – my morbid curiosity took over and I thought, “fuck it, let’s see what this is all about”.
Now, if you’re single and you want to get sucked into a dark world where morals are a loose concept, only to emerge two hours later; repetitive strain disorder in your thumb from swiping and a lot more dubious of the human race than before – then I’d definitely recommend downloading Tinder.
I was barely on there for an hour and I had already seen some lad I snogged when I was 14, three vile and, quite honestly, aggressive looking penises and – probably the scariest of all – some lad dressed as a sad clown.
So I realised; Tinder isn’t where you’re going to find your soul mate, it’s about discovering a whole new cross-section of bizarre people that exist mere miles from your own front door.
If you do sign up for Tinder expect men such as:
The “have you seen the size of this fucking fish?” guy
Who knew urban fishing in Liverpool was such a big thing? Not me. But apparently it is because every Tom, Dick and Harry seems to be out there every weekend, holding some sort of oversized marine-life.
The headless torso
Lads, it doesn’t matter whether you have a six pack or a 20 pack – if you only show photos of your abs then we’re still going to assume you’ve got some sort of hideous deformity. Put it away.
The “I swear down, this isn’t my baby” guy
“Show her the baby, bitches love babies” is what I imagine this lad slurred to himself as he uploaded his profile picture with one eye open. But his bio will quickly clarify that, honest, he didn’t father the child, nor did he find it on the street. Well, thank fuck for that.
The ‘you won’t get out of the date alive’ psycho
Is dead a colour? Because that’s what colour this lad’s eyes are.
His photos are dark and grainy, leaving you wondering whether they were taken with a decade-old webcam, or whether they’re just stills from a video he recorded in his parents’ basement. Swipe left prin, quick as you can.
The… oh fuck it, I’m out
This lad will have you questioning everything about humanity. He’s probably sat on the bonnet of his car – naked – with nothing but a small ‘Where’s Wally’ cap covering his genitalia, (yeah, I’m looking at you, John, 28 from Huyton) or he’ll have a photo so ludicrous that you almost consider swiping right just so you can grill him about it.
Ultimately this will be the guy that forces you to delete Tinder from your life forever.
But just as you get to the ‘remove profile’ screen, a noti will pop up on your phone about that one fitty that you actually swiped right to.
“It’s a match” – oh is it yeah? Well, it can’t hurt to stick around a bit longer…
Until next time… x