… and a shameless plug for them to pay for my wedding… so, you know, spread the word.
Tinder — the material used to start a fire.
Tinder — the “dating” app — catches a lot of heat for its perceived superficiality and commodization of individuals into a few pictures and little more than a tweet worth of a bio. But, “all it takes is a spark.” Man, if that’s not the logo, it should be. The best and worst thing about Tinder is that it is human. It is exactly what people want it to be. It is no more superficial than its users and no less.
As a former, avid online-dater, I have been on nearly every dating app ever made, and the truth is that it’s all the same at the end; it is all exactly what you hope to get out of it. I spent hours crafting witty, attention-seeking, Pulitzer-Prize-worthy profiles on other sites that lead to a series of tragic and questionable relationships, at best. At worst, it was exactly what Tinder is accused of being — superficial, the only difference was the character limit. I did exactly what I did on Tinder. I would “wink” or “smile” or “like” the prettiest girls, often without ever clicking on their actual profiles to give it a read, then as I got better at online dating, I would read just enough of the profile to create a message that seemed like I was genuinely interested.
Of course, there were times I was genuinely interested, but online dating is a numbers game. It’s the hope that of all the people you could potentially like, some of them will potentially like you back, and maybe, just maybe, one of them will be THE ONE. After spending weeks checking obsessively to see if one person finally responded to my sincere and truly optimistic email — they never did — I learned not to put all of my eggs in one basket. Dating IRL is no different at the early stages. You wink and flirt and laugh at unfunny jokes in the hopes that someone you might like will like you back. Just like Tinder.
Obviously, I am invested. Tinder changed my life. In four months, I will be marrying the love of my life and I have Tinder to thank for meeting her. Tinder destroyed the long checklist of must-haves that I fabricated over the last few years of dating — just in time, too, because my fiancé would have never made the cut. I am a thirty-two years old, not particularly religious, Scorpio, and reformed “player.” My fiancee is a devote Catholic, Sagittarius, with a relatively innocent past. She’s also a little older than me. On other dating sites, most of those things probably would have been deal breakers not that long ago. In fact, I probably never would have seen her because my filters would have blocked her. Maybe those filters are why it took me so long to find her in the first place.
She ended up on Tinder the same way I did. She had been on all the apps and websites. She had been in a few ill-advised relationships. She was tired of putting in so much effort and things going nowhere. I almost ignored her even after we matched for the same reason. I was on my way to “Clooney-ing” it and being a career bachelor, you know, before Amal.
I thought, “why would this be any different?”
I clicked through her profile repeatedly for at least a week before I finally said “why not.” We had four friends in common and she seemed to be a fan of Notre Dame like me. That was it. That was all it took to push me over the edge. Now here we are only four months from our wedding. All it took was a spark. (I’m going to make this a thing!)
I used to think that a lengthy profile was necessary to feel like I knew someone well enough to want to take them out out on a date. Turns out that it’s only enough to think you know some one, or to find out how creative of a lia—, how creative of a writer they could be. Tinder was simple. It was honest. Swipe. Match. Love. Boom. No checklists. Very few filters. Just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him.
Yeah, that just happened, a Knotting Hill reference in a post about Tinder!
A happy, former Tinder user