“Everyone’s on it. It’s no biggie.” So said my friend Joshua at work the other day regarding the on line dating craze that’s sweeping the nation – Tinder. “You just put your picture in. Say what age range you want to date and boom, men start popping up in your phone.”


This did sound simple. Who doesn’t want men popping up in their phone? “Do I have to talk to them?” I asked. “No” he said. “You can’t actually text with them until they’ve liked you as well. Once you’ve matched with each other – then you can text.”

This sounded pretty good. In fact – it sounded kinda fun. I uploaded my photo and put in my age range – 40 – 55 and I started sliding through my choices. It was like central casting for prisoners, or weight watchers, or some kind of creepy grandpa dating service. This was not going to be fun at all. In 1.3 seconds I was already over Tinder. Josh told me to keep looking. And so later that night – I did. I sat quietly in my bed while The Real Housewives of Some City played in the back ground and I clicked on men. Swipe to the left means NOPE – swipe to the right means – ME LIKEY.

I swiped right on a 40 year old. He was super cute. He liked blueberries. Who doesn’t like blueberries?  Instantly the words “It’s a Match!” flew onto my screen. This meant he had actually liked me first. I was intrigued. I waited to see what happened next. Nothing. I clicked on another picture – a 45-year-old paramedic firefighter. I clicked on him. I happen to have a fire that needs extinguishing–in my pants. “It’s a match!” again came flying onto my screen. This is fantastic! I’m literally a hot property in Tinder world. But I didn’t want to text anyone. That seemed desperate – like the one guy I matched with who instantly sent me a text that said “what are you doing tonight?” Um, not texting you back you big desperado. I have a life. I didn’t actually have a life that night but I wasn’t going to let him know that. There was one really young guy who kept sending me “Moments” which are weird little photos of things they like. One moment was a waterfall. I wanted to drown him under it. I deleted his moments and quickly hit the single greatest button on Tinder – UNMATCH. Oh how simple life is! Poof. Guy gone.

A couple of days later I had six matches. Well I had eight but two guys unmatched me the second we matched up. This was kind of depressing. What was it about my picture that they liked initially and then seconds later was repelled by? Could they see something in it that I couldn’t? Like my sheer hatred for almost everything? Tinder was starting to bum me out. Nobody was sending me a message. Sure they liked my photo and the matches were flying back and forth on my screen but they were just a bunch of first named faces staring at me from my iphone. Everyone kept telling me to write them first but this didn’t seem like a good idea at all. I’m a message receiver not a message sender.

These people were going to have to work to have a completely annoying interview like cup of coffee with me before we realized it was a horrible match and moved on. And then – I hit what seemed like the Tinder Mother Lode. Older guy – 48 ish – handsome – lots of nice pics – dog included – seemingly cool house – and – one photo that was snapped on a movie premiere line. Yes! He’s in the business. I quickly swiped to the right and boom – it’s a match! He had already liked me. Joshua sprung into action. He immediately used one of this guy’s photos and did the most amazing bit of Google stalkery I have ever seen. He found out exactly who the guy is. Another writer! Yes! Everyone in the writer’s room told me I needed to write something to him first. He could actually be normal. I love that the biggest group of broken toys (writers) thinks another writer will be normal. Ha!! Oh god. What do I say? They offered their lines. “Just say hi”, “Say something about being a writer.” But I couldn’t say that because then he would know I google stalked him. Shit. I worked on a statement for a full twenty minutes and finally typed out – “Hi, I think you’re the first match I don’t need to meet at a police station.” Funny right? Wrong. Radio silence. And it’s been that way ever since. I’m not sure what kind of guy clicks on a girl’s picture and then ignores her incredibly clever text, but this guy is one of those guys. Fuck him! Fuck Tinder!

I shouted to no one. Great – another thing in life to make me feel like a loser – my own phone. So for now – I’m taking a Tinder break. I’ll let you guys know when I’m back on. And if you ladies are swiping through and see my writer – tell him he doesn’t know how good he almost had it. He could have been my Tinder Fella. It’s no fairy tale over here people but it sure beats trolling creepy dating sites.

Share this Post:

9 thoughts on “CALL ME TINDER-ELLA”

  1. Well, there’s another dating site I’ll never try. I tried a couple of online dating sites and quit them immediately after joining, complaining that all the men who found me interesting looked as if they were so old they’d be alive for only the next few minutes. Seriously those old guys had to be in their 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s. Then my kids reminded me that I was in my 60s. POW! Reality check, anyone? Does Tinder come with an area for cougars?

    1. That’s what my matches looked like Theresa – which quite frankly – considering my tolerance for coupledom – a couple of minutes would be good. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news but we’re too old to be cougars – we need a new name for the plus 50 set – Panthers?

  2. Writers are not normal. Neither are singers. You get so used to hanging around with people who are not normal that the people who ARE normal begin to look abnormal to you.

    What? You expected me to make sense?

Comments are closed.