It’s not like I needed another app on my phone but the temptation was just too great to ignore. I was several shades of bored a few weeks ago and after having read the reviews and considering the concerns of those whom roam the interwebz looking for love, I decided, ‘what’s the worst that can happen’?
The fact that I had to delete a few apps just to get space enough to download Tinder made me determined to actually use and interact with the app, and boy, did I!
A few minutes after downloading it and after agreeing to give up all my personal information as listed in the User Agreement that I neglected to read, I was prompted to set up my Facebook to sync with Tinder. Well, ain’t that convenient and nifty!?
Easy enough, right? All automatic and stuff!
I was momentarily concerned that each and everything I did and said would be broadcast on Facebook. I didn’t want my current stable of summer Boo(s) to learn that I was cruising for replacement Fall Boo(s) through obnoxious Facebook updates, because, that’s not conducive to happiness.
I don’t think the app blasts forecasts onto your Facebook feed, but it did import my current avatar. Once I realized that had happened, I waited on what I knew was going to come next.
I mean, my boobs do look awesome!
Too much skin, you say?
I’m giving these guys the ‘wrong idea’, you say?
They may get the impression that I’m easy…….!
Say it ain’t so!
I had forgotten that I had recently changed my profile picture to the one above. I decided to post my slightly inappropriate photos on Facebook, because dammit, everyone else does so why shouldn’t I?
The moral police live in my head space, too. Who knew, right?! The difference between me and others is that I can spank the police into submission and get back to the business of having men Come Hither.
The Tinder app wasn’t very impressive, nor did it give out much information about the users. The purpose of the app is to find available users who are in your geographic location. You are shown images of users nearby and offered the option of “X” or a “heart” choosing one or the other is your way of telling the ‘game’ that you do not like, or do like, the user whose picture is being displayed.
I quickly began to crunch and process men, easy enough, I can do it in real life so what’s the difference, right?
Shitty avatar picture? NO! What is a shitty avatar picture, you ask? Any picture that is fuzzy, or too far away, or one that includes the cropped out body of some other person (probably a female whether it is or not matters none) and/or those pictures that are clear and close up but that contain a person who isn’t physically appealing to moi.
Yup. I got to flicking images with lightening speed.
When you click the heart, and that person has clicked on your images heart then you have a match. A little prompt appears telling you that he liked you back, so now you can proceed to start chatting with the person since you showed a mutual attraction in the ‘game’ of Tinder.
Next thing I know, my inbox is blinking and buzzing with brand new potential men folks. I’m not amused or very excited, I’m used to a herd of men chasing me down based on looks alone.
I fish using the best bait available to me.
Namely, awesome boobs since the user’s can’t see my mesmerizing walk through a cell phone.
I’m always up for game. So I search through each image in my inbox and leave an open ended comment, question or inquiry for every man that showed interest in me.
Pay attention, folks, this is where things get good.
I had a few black guys, a few latino men, and a very hefty amount of white men asking for space on my dance card. Some men responded right away, others took longer and still others popped in to chat as I was already busy chatting with several guys. I was able to keep up a conversation with about 5 men without missing a beat.
Did some men have corny ass come on lines based on the bikini picture, which is typical and I’m down for adult humor and chiding. What I don’t do is lame ass 5th grade comments like ‘Oh, nice outfit. LOL’.
Boy bye! Get out my inbox.
The majority of the men didn’t even mention my picture specifically, they conveyed interest by saying things like ‘nice picture’ which just means that they noticed I’m showing a lot but they’re not entirely distracted by me. These are the guys I continued to communicate with.
For those of you who think showing skin is a sign of the Devil, I’ll interject. Grown men don’t get flustered at the sight of a beautiful woman showing skin. Grown men, who have been living like adults and who are somewhat civilized are usually emotionally mature enough to not condemn a woman for being inviting.
In my experience, the guys that hold those type of virgin/whore issues show themselves very easily, especially when presented with something like the picture above. I start at the middle of books and in relationships, I show my hand, the easy red herring, because I want the cliff jumpers to remove themselves and they almost always do. #wellplayed
I met an Italian guy who did security at some well known rooftop club that I’ve never heard of. He asked pointed questions that were all about my being familiar with social venues, and I’m not so I soon grew bored of not being in the know about night life. It gave me the impression that we’re not a great match. I don’t consider nights filled with alcohol and loud speaking adults crammed into a room to be my idea of fun. I’m not a crowd type of chick, if you can believe it.
I met a med student who was old enough to date my daughter but not me. However, I do date younger men, but not those interested in me simply because I’m older. I’m not a cougar, I’m a panther. There’s a difference.
I met an Irish gent who is an accountant. He was polite enough but…eh. Polite is only useful for the first few moments and then I need a human with a full range of emotions and a vocabulary he isn’t scared to use.
I met an Israeli college professor. He was funny and inquired about me and the details of life and all. He asked what part of Brooklyn I lived in and what I did in my spare time. There was plenty of interest in me, but he didn’t reciprocate with details about himself which is kinda corny. Communication is a two way street. I felt like I was on an interview instead of a dating app.
I met a model from Bahrain (don’t hear that one everyday, eh?) who is here for work and that made him end up in the “Meh” pile since I’m not one for long distance relationships and/or men with better hair than I.
I met approximately 10 guys who were interesting enough based on their picture and conversational chat. I’ve not got the time to entertain 10 men so I left most of them in the inbox talking to the thin air. Maybe I’ll get back to them and maybe I won’t.
I grew bored at about the time where one black guy asked for my number so that we can move things away from Tinder. I turned over my number. Why? Because I’m trying to hunt and kill my prey, not the other way around. He was assertive, which I like, I’ve no time for men who dance around the flame. I need someone to come and get it because, dammit, I’m got-able. What do you think I’m here for? Shooting the shit is something I can do on Twitter.
He’s very attractive and he wants to take me to lunch the next day. I decline his offer since I’m an adult with a life and schedule and not a call girl waiting for my next sponsored meal. Besides, I’m not at the whim of a potential man’s schedule, he must adhere to mine.
He presses on and asked me to meet him a second time. I decline, a second time.
We continue to chat, it’s getting late and I’m becoming bored with the conversation. He asks me for another picture. Fair enough, the bathing suit picture could be a Catfish attempt, so I send him another two pictures of myself. Clothed and civil, thinking this will appease him if he’s worried about a bait and switch.
He returns the favor by sending me a picture of his torso. I ask if he’s trying to entice me with a subtle (and impressive) d*ck imprint? He’s taken aback (at my gall or either the mistaken implication, I’m not sure), and so we continue to chat about what’s the favorite whatevers and the basics.
He’s “LOL”ing me to death. A serious pet peeve of mine.
He’s an art professor at a school that you’ve heard of and that I won’t mention here.
I’m an artist.
This should be a good thing. He doesn’t seem to be able to connect the two together to make himself slightly more appealing by capitalizing on an obvious shared interest. I’m disappointed that he either didn’t notice or didn’t think to take the easy route to my affection.
He asks, yet again, that I meet him the next day for drinks, coffee, lunch, brunch or shoe shine. I decline, but am annoyed by this time. My No, really and truly means No, and I am not one of those women where ‘might beats right’, I can’t stand to not have my wishes met. He’s toast but he doesn’t need to know all of that.
I bid him a good night, he does the same. I promise to keep up with him the next day and maybe, had he proceeded properly, I would have been willing to meet up with him. All was good until he kept texting after I had told him I was going to sleep. By this time it was well past 2 a.m., I had placed my phone down and it continued to buzz with text messages. Old boy was talking to himself, LOL’ing all up and through his messages.
By this time, I was really getting turned off, and after a few choice words he finally stopped. I despise having to talk to grown ass men as if they are a rambunctious 4 year old, but hey, I do what I must to get us where we need to be, ya dig?
And then he began texting me the next morning.
THIS, my friends, solidified my concern with Tinder.
I know social media dating is all the rage, and I know people who have met and ran off into the sunset together but I still think the best way to meet people is to 1) push back from the computer and 2) find your front door, and then 3) go the Hell outside and participate in life. Take advantage of some of these events that are posted here, there and everywhere.
Why not come out and meet me and let’s hang. I’m the best wing girl you’ll ever meet, that goes for males and females alike. I’ve been hooking up people and orchestrating fun-ness in random public places for decades now.
Yup, TRJ joined Tinder, and then she deleted her account and went to bed.