(Dad, Madeleine…you may want to skip this one)
The more I date, the more frequently I consider becoming a nun.
Almost purely out of curiosity, I recently decided to check out tinder. For those of you in blissful ignorance, tinder is a dating app that finds singles (who also have the tinder app) geographically located near you. You see the profile picture of said singles and either “x” them or “heart” them. If they “heart” you back you are a match and then you each have the opportunity to email each other lively conversation like “hi” or they can send you a picture of their penis. Ah! Modern love.
While I was in Chicago, where there is a considerably larger dating pool, I decided to give it a try. What I discovered is tinder is exactly like a crack addiction. At first it is an amazing rush and by the end (which for me was 5 days later) you are slumped over in a sobbing heap fully convinced that there are no reasonable human beings left on the planet and that you’ve traded all your dignity away for a moment of excitement.
Let me walk you through the stages:
Stage one: oh my god! There are so many amazing looking men on here!
Stage 2: I’m getting so many matches! I’m a gorgeous human being. If I move to Chicago I would be married to my soul mate in a month.
Stage three: penis pic
Stage four: weird sexual offer ” I could let you have sex with me while my cat watches”
Stage five:penis pic
Stage six: angry text with multiple curse words ( people really can use “cunt” creatively in a sentence)
Stage seven: penis pic
Stage eight: ” why yes, I am married and I have four beautiful children that I adore”
Stage nine: penis pic
Stage ten: delete account
Curiosity cured, faith in humanity questioned. It’s the same reason I never want to work retail again: too much exposure to the larger human race. The good news is it has confirmed my desire to date myself, I’m making myself a jammin mix tape right now entitled ” valentines day is for quitters”.