Swiping right for the wrong reasons
I have 716 matches on Tinder and I haven’t met up with a single one
And that number doesn’t even take into account Bumble, the app that flips the gender norms and makes the females send the ‘daunting’ first message. Only for me not to because I can’t be bothered with a creative one liner that doesn’t sound horrendously cheesy. Or Hinge, the app that is designed to be deleted… but I doubt they’re referring to me deleting it every three to four weeks because I haven’t found anyone, only to redownload it because I’m bored again.
With such a terrible return rate, why then have I (and many others) continued to keep these dating apps around? The answer is quite simple. They’ve joined the ranks of Instagram and Facebook as a tool for self-validation.
“Because after all it is a numbers game, right? The bigger following you have the more untouchable you become. Likes, follows, comments and now ‘matches’ are an invisible currency that we’re all craving.”
The 3am ‘u up?’ and super likes from random people are the fuel for that extra spring in your step. A feeling of being wanted.
I prod and poke my stomach, and my friends tell me ‘Stop that, you’re beautiful’. It never lands with me. Yet in some messed up way when a random guy online says, ‘your name must be Coca Cola, because you’re so-da-licious’ (cringe I know). I oddly feel validated. Granted he’s probably copy and pasted that to every other girl on the app. But I don’t care.
I mean my bio, as self-deprecating as it is, reads ‘you know I have a good personality because I’m a 6’. Whilst I personally find that funny, a recent revelation is that it’s just inviting guys to comment on my appearance.
And because it’s Tinder and they’ve matched with you. They’re more likely to hit you with the ‘in what world are you a 6’ line than say ‘well actually you’re lower than a 6’.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve had offers to meet up with guys. Some more forward than others. But the idea of sitting at a bar waiting to meet up with someone who you’ve never seen in real life before is terrifying. Especially because the only perception they have of you is the dolled-up dating profile and the highlight reel that is your Instagram. Don’t even get me started on the fear of being stood up, which I’ve also fallen victim to.
Of course, these reservations and fears may stem from past issues, which we won’t go into. I’m not ill to the fact that I’m nearly 24 and I haven’t been on a date in over two years. But I’m also not some scorned woman who hates men and has sworn off giving anyone a chance.
I think it may be that (and my recent move to Australia can attest to this) I’m just focusing on myself. I’ve grown to love my independence and I have an amazing career ahead of me. Will adding a secondary person that you have to constantly worry what they’re doing and how that affects your day be something that I actually want? And if so, do I really want to meet that person online?
Maybe it’s because I’ve often said in casual conversations that I never want my meet cute to be ‘we matched on Tinder’. To which most of the time that person agrees. But if our mutual friend COVID-19 has taught me anything… it’s that our world is evolving to the digital space day by day and the stigma around meeting online is slowly decreasing. It’s a lot harder to meet ‘the one’ when you’re standing 2 metres apart with a mask covering half of your face.
Although if this pandemic really takes off, I wouldn’t be opposed to living out my dystopian fantasy and have two dashing men fighting over me whilst we navigate a post-apocalyptic world. But if I’m being completely candid with myself, I don’t have the drive that Katniss or Tris has. I’d most likely be one of the first ones to go…
In summary, I don’t see writing all of this down as being a revolutionary twist in my dating life and as a result I’m not going to go out on 3 dates a week. But more of a rethink. It may be time to swipe right on a bit of self-love and stop relying so heavily on the validation of others – especially random people online.
Words — Jess Murray
Image — via Ivania Carpio
