Why I’d Rather Depend on Fate Than Go on Another Tinder Date

I’m not going to pretend that Tinder isn’t a thing with gay guys. Sure the same dudes online are the same ones you see on Grindr, but at the end of the day we have to wonder if it’s even worth our time

I’ve come to understand that everyone on Tinder is awkward at dating–that’s why they’re on it! It’s fun at first because it’s new and different, but as we continue it seems like we forget how to communicate with each other without autocorrect.

The evidence is clear. I don’t mind Tinder but if I had to choose between it and fate, I choose fate. 

  • It’s like window shopping at a store that’s closed for business.

The people we typically swipe right for are guys we consider “catches.” From my own experience (as well as friends), the “catches” get swiped right a lot because they fit into a prototype we’ve taught ourselves to register—nice hair, good job, community caretaker, dog owner, white teeth.

We put ourselves on display like a nice coat at Macy’s, but for the most part we all want someone who is equal or greater than our own hotness—which is to be expected of course because that’s just what we do.

But when you’re looking for intimacy on an app, you’re only getting the window display. You won’t feel the texture, the weight, the character, the substance. A picture is much easier to toss aside if it doesn’t fit our standard. Had we met in the real world, our perception might have been different.

  • The dates aren’t really dates. They’re interviews.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been on Tinder dates that were awesome, but for the most part it’s about figuring out if the man is anything like the character we imagined in our heads. It becomes a job interview rather than an organic discovery of chemistry.

  • Appearance is judged before substance.

That’s just the name of the game, and we all know it going in. While it is a dating app, at its core it’s a “hot or not” swiping game. Again, this is something we do in the real world as well but at least in the real world, we don’t have an option to block. Because we can’t make a clean exit, we’re able to find substance and surprise ourselves—this is how magic happens.

  • You can’t assess chemistry via iPhone.

You will never judge a person’s true character in a 150-word summary. It’s impossible. We’re exxagerate ourselves; everyone knows and generally approves of it, which is why we must have a skeptical eye.

Chemistry is the ingredient we need to build something, but when all profiles are tweaked to make us look and sound awesome, we’re going to think we have chemistry with every body! Of course we’re going to fall in love with multiple people at the same time because everyone designed themselves to look like a “catch.” And we’re programmed to fall in love with “catches.” It’s sorcery!

  • If you’re not photogenic, forget about it.

It might be a minor observation, but it’s true. I’ve met countless of hot guys that take awful pictures (haven’t you?). We’ve all had moments when the guy looks nothing like his picture, but there are also moments that a guy looks a million times better—you think, Holy crap I can’t believe I almost swiped left on this dude.

  • The people you want to take seriously don’t take you seriously, and the people you don’t take seriously take you very seriously. 

Don’t ask me why it works out like this—maybe it’s the universe speaking—but the guys you take very seriously ultimately start taking you less seriously when things get going, and the same thing happens in reverse. We think, why can’t I find a guy who’s willing to go there with me?

It’s because Tinder reminds us of the endless amount of options. When he says something off color, it’s easy for us not to give him a second chance because, hey, we have a city full of single guys in our phone. Surely one of them will have a better delivery. At the end of the day, we’re never going to find a perfect man. Thinking that we will is a fanciful notion. There’s always going to be something wrong if we look hard enough–we just gotta ask ourselves if he’s worth it.

David Artavia

Writer

David lives in New York City, where he acts, writes and lives vicariously through his friends.

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