The trials and tribulations of Tinder
MY FIRST Tinder date was a disaster.
I should have taken his three-hour late arrival as a sign, but shockingly it went downhill from there.
We went to a bar where the jazz music was too loud and we recognised too many people.
We didn't know what to talk about, so I listened to his aspirations of becoming a tax accountant shouted over an obnoxious trumpet for at least an hour.
I had work early in the morning; he walked me home and I left him standing awkwardly in the street after dodging his attempts at affection.
It got worse. We studied at the same campus, so my once peaceful last minute cram sessions were now filled by awkward stares from a group of lads I had never met followed by pointing whenever they saw me on a night out.
Once he tried calling me until four in the morning when my alarm was set for work at six. I blocked his number, but I wonder what he's up to still.
The calibre of options provided on the app haven't improved.
When I finally drummed up the courage to go on my next Tinder date; it was fun at first. We drank too many beers at a hole-in-the-wall bar down the road from my house, but then he drank far too many beers, accidentally smashed a couple of pints and passed out on my sofa. I called him an Uber home on my way to class the next morning.
The next date threw my freshly-made kebab into a bush on Ocean St because the falafel was too spicy.
The one after that bailed at the last minute for a family dinner. I'm not sure what's worse; his jilting or the fact he forgot his mother's birthday.
The most recent date was nice, for sure. But that was it and we never spoke again.
The immediate and disposable nature of the app has given young singles the mindset that humans are too easily replaced.
We no longer learn to accept another human's flaws and settle for nothing less than perfect.
Don't take this the wrong way - I do have standards, although my tales of Tinder would suggest otherwise, but in a world where we look to replace rather than repair it's too easy to ignore someone's 'let's do it again soon' texts and find our way back to the app, where an algorithm of hundreds of semi-eligible bachelors and bachelorettes await a right-swipe.
I think of my grandparents; happily in love for 60 years and pining for each other through the distances of war for many years before that.
Would their relationship have survived the wrath of Tinder? I guess it's too hard to say.
People now come in and out of our lives for a mere moment but they stay a number on our phone, a friend on Facebook, a follower on Instagram and a match on the app.
Maybe someday it grows into something more, or it fizzles out entirely until you come across their Snapchat stories and think, who the hell is this person?
It's a strange dating world.