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Tinder Without Borders

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I only recently signed up on Tinder. I registered via my Facebook account and didn’t look at it again til a couple of weeks later. Two nights ago I looked at it for the first time; didn’t even think to look at my own profile page.

Was out with my friend (you’ve read some of her stories). Told her I thought I was at highest age range of Tinder. We checked. I am, but I’m in good company. I started looking and swiping, mostly right with my new buckshot approach, and also because I wasn’t wearing glasses or reading the profiles or looking through the photo options.

About 90% of my right swipes resulted in matches! Continued this for another day, weeded through the errant matches, and started conversations with 21 men. 21!! I texted the same message 21 times: “Hi (insert name here). Summer off to a good start?”

Results? 17 (yes, you read that right) responded! One date scheduled. Another has my phone number. 4 or 5 other ongoing conversations, one of which seems to be heading more toward dirty talk than a meeting. One of them pointed out that my profile was sparse (remember, I had never set it up). I updated and got some nice feedback from my penpals.

Now what? I’ll keep you posted.

Buckshot Results

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It’s been two weeks since I introduced my “buckshot” approach. I’m swiping right more liberally and opening up the playing field. Results? Probably not shocking…just more of the same.

This was an all-Bumble trial; the first contact was mine after match notification. In every case I started with hello (and in no case did I “have him at” that), and followed with a question directly related to his photos or profile. To the architect: Are you involved in an interesting project now? To the critic: What genres do you like most? To the writer with funny profile: Do you write comedy? To the others: Any fun plans to kick off the summer?

12 matches. That means that they swiped right on my profile, too. I had a really nice dialogue with one over the course of several days. Then silence. A few responded with answers like “yes” and “thanks;” not engaging…done. One asked for my number but didn’t use it. 2 or 3 placed on hold during long weekend.

5 of them didn’t acknowledge my contact. I had to, just had to, follow up. “So…I’m going to send this same question to several of you…I hope you’ll reply…What changes from your first swipe right til it’s time to respond to a text? (I do it, too, sometimes). We all know this is a crap shoot…let’s at least find out. Aren’t you curious? I am. Let’s face it…it’s not personal at this stage…but maybe, just maybe…(Not desperate. Not needy. Really wondering.)”

Two responses. One told me he’d met someone else, who he’s now dating, right around the same time. I asked if that was true, reminding him he owed me nothing and that I meant this as a learning experience. He said he never lies. Whether or not that’s true is inconsequential today. In short, we texted back and forth a little bit and that was that.

The other one went differently. Turns out he lives in another state. I asked if he was looking for hook ups or if he was cheating on someone. Said he was not a cheater, but was, perhaps, interested in cyber sex. He asked about my relationship/dating status.

“Cheater? Never. Well, maybe in college with high school boyfriend. Hookups? Been a lifelong prude; hoping I’ll find my inner slut one day. Husband? Still on paper but long done in life. Reality? Who the fuck knows?! I want it to blindside me and live happily ever after. Is that asking too much?!” 

He didn’t think I was asking too much. And you won’t be surprised to learn that he offered to help me find my inner slut via sexting. “Harmless. Could be fun.” I tried to do it…to challenge myself. I bailed before I started. To him, I apologize, since he kind of started without me.

Buckshot

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In a social setting, I met a man who interested me. The more I got to know him, the more interested I was. I started wondering…would I swipe left or right if I found him online? Would I know he was smart? Interesting? Interested? A good person? Would it be clear, from either profile, that we liked to do many of the same things? Would he post photos that drew me in or turned me off?

That’s when I realized the real flaw in the digital dating system; we think we have enough information to make a judgement, but we don’t. We can’t possibly.

We can do some screening. If he’s all about race cars and cigars, that may or may not appeal to you. Maybe it’s obvious that he’s a runner, a traveler, a hiker or a photographer, interests you may or may not share. But there’s more to him than that, isn’t there?

Maybe that photo of him crossing the finish line is from the first and last race he ever ran. Maybe there’s a story behind it. Maybe it’s in the way he tells the story. Maybe it’s the look on his face, in his eyes, as he tells it. Swipe left and you’ll never know.

Which is why I’m introducing my next new approach: buckshot.

 

 

 

 

 

Are They Getting Stupider?

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I don’t know about you, but I’ve been moving toward the dating apps more than the sites. The down side is that I have, more than once, swiped left when, what I really wanted, was to look at photos. Upside features? Newer app, new faces. Ease of use, not smothering us with information, and…this one’s my favorite…connection to our Facebook profiles.

I know you’re sick of hearing this from me, but one more time…I simply can’t let it go! Today a guy came up with a stated age of 49. Looked older. Significantly. His lie was confirmed by his college graduation date of 1976. I’m 53 and graduated in 1984; you do the math.

I see two explanations. Option 1, Doogie Howser. Option 2, not only a liar, but too dumb to know he outed himself right on the spot. I suppose we could flip a coin, but it would keep coming up as option 2 (my homage to Iowa caucus).

Here’s my suggestion to all of you, men and women, who are lying about anything on your profiles. Don’t.

It Ain’t Me, Babe

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I was recently swiping and this guy came up. There was one photo, in which he was wearing sunglasses and a hat, and the location was completely nondescript…maybe a construction site or a landfill. He offered no information; he wrote one line that was vague. Of course, my curiosity won out and I swiped right.

He messaged me, “Looking for me?” followed with an icon to “click here” to know more about him. I clicked, and a good photo of him appeared. Nice enough looking, and he was putting a little effort into the process. So I responded, “Creative, interesting start.”

His response: “So take a bath, shave your legs and invite me over.” Eww.

It’s interesting how misled I was by my own perception. In my head, he was being playful and creative, and that intrigued me.  I liked the photo I had clicked to open; he looked serious but nice. Now, I look at the same photo, I see a misogynist, and I feel like I need a shower.

He, like the rest of us, is playing the odds. But he and I aren’t in the same game.

 

Can You Hear Me Now?

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Written communication has its flaws, especially when you don’t know the other person. It’s hard as the reader. It’s hard as the writer. Sometimes it requires an interpreter. Like one sequence of messages in which I was recently engaged (more like ensnared).

I read his profile, assessed his photos, took the leap, and favorited him. He responded with lyrics, and asked me to identify the artist. I googled the answer and wrote back, admitting that I’d done the search (and earned props for the effort). He wrote back…normally a good sign.

With each successive message (and there were a few back and forth), I became more confused. I wasn’t sure if he was still quoting songs. I didn’t know if he was being philosophical or snarky. I said I was “confused, but curious.”  He was confused by my confusion, and curious about my curiosity. I felt like he was talking in code and I didn’t have the key.

He messaged me a couple more times, but he’d lost me by then.

25 years ago I invited a mom and her daughter (I hardly knew them) over for lunch and a playdate. I’ll save you the details and tell you the afternoon was an awkward disaster. Such an awkward disaster that, by the end of the afternoon, we had bonded over it, and we’re still sharing the laugh.

The relevance of this tale? We were face to face and committed to an afternoon, and we found our connection. I’m resolved to go back to my earlier dating resolution; once we’ve connected online, it’s time to meet. Or not. But no more mysterious pen pals.

Later…I Promise

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I favorited him. He messaged me. Likes my photos. Likes my profile. Do I want to chat or, better, meet for coffee? OK! Here’s my number. I prefer meeting to phone date…awkward and counterproductive. Call or text and we can set something up. Or message me back on site.

You, readers, already know where I’m going with this…nowhere. Right. Is it out of the question I’ll hear from him? Of course not. Sitting by the phone? Definitely not. But our phones are generally sitting by us, so we keep checking. Like waiting for college acceptance or that million dollars from Publishers Clearing House. Refresh.

The problem, according to me, is that getting in touch feels more like making a doctor’s appointment than something we optimistically anticipate. We’ll message later. Remind ourselves to follow up. Just…not right now.

A Picture Paints A Thousand Words

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Here’s my thousand words on profile photos. (1000 words is a lot of words. Forgive me when I fail to live up to the adage.)

Profile photos. Our photos are the first and most prominent parts of our profiles. We all know it. I consider how I look, where I am, how I’m dressed, and what I’m doing. I want to project who I am, and in the best possible light. This is where our narratives begin.

The scuba-diver is telling us he’s active and adventurous. The award winner on the podium wants us to know he’s respected for his achievements. He’s a skier…runner…musician…biker (either racing or gang variety).  Boater. Traveler. Trainer. Pet Lover. These types of photos tell us something, presumably something important, about a person. More, they’re telling us what they want us to know, first and foremost. This makes sense to me.

What doesn’t make sense? Blurry photos, dark photos, low res photos. We carry cameras with us at all times (if you don’t, everyone else does); you can come up with ONE decent quality photo! And, do yourself a favor, don’t shoot it into the bathroom mirror.

For those who have succeeded in obtaining a photo, congratulations. But you’re not there yet. Don’t post the photo of you winking and toasting the camera; ick. Clearly naked (even if we’ll never really know for sure)? Ick. Just your dog (or car, or boat, or sunset)? C’mon. A very popular setting that I don’t get…selfie in driver’s seat of car. Why there? Were you bored at a red light?

Next, there are the photos that tell some story, but I’m not sure what that story is, or to whom he hopes to appeal. The face-painted sports fan; frat boy? One in which the guy appears to be wearing his school band uniform (or shooting the cover of Sargent Pepper’s). Huh? One guy is wearing a foot-wide, floppy bow tie, really. One is dressed head to toe in his (I’m guessing) favorite team’s gear. Not odd for my nephews, but I’m looking at profiles of men in their 50’s and up!

You get the point. I may not be your type; you may not be mine. But a little more thought might go a long way.

Speaking of long ways…I didn’t make it to 400 words. Better this way, right?

Small World

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A week or so ago I signed up for my first swiping site. It took me a few attempts to get the hang of it. When I meant to be looking through photos, I was actually accepting and declining. Next mistake, I didn’t realize that it automatically updated for my location.

I’m down in Florida for a quick visit with my parents. I opened the app. At first, it didn’t register with me that the men I was viewing were Floridians. Once it did, I decided to go with it; I’m down here enough if anyone turned out to be interesting. Someone has.

Someone just like me, who didn’t realize when he landed from the UK that he was viewing locals. Dumb luck. We texted for a day. Then we talked on the phone. Naturally, this call was the easiest of my calls so far (the accent didn’t hurt). With only one possible time slot that we’re both in town without commitments, we’re meeting later for a drink.

As always, details will follow for you, my voyeurs.

My Virtual Boyfriend

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Almost immediately after registering on my first dating site, I made a connection. But that’s not where this story begins.

Last summer I saw one of the 70’s jam bands (think Grateful Dead-ish). At the show, I mentioned to one of my friends that the next love of my life could be in that crowd. Yes, the next love of my life could be a bald guy in tie dye.

Fast forward several weeks and I’m an internet dating virgin. I read a profile that interests me. He seems low key, and we share a couple of interests, so I send an email. And he responds. Wouldn’t ya know it, he was at that same concert. Jam bands are his jam.

We emailed back and forth a couple of times and set up a phone date. He was nice. Shared a lot about himself, and we had a few coincidences that made conversation easy enough. I checked him out on facebook, bald guy in tie dye at a concert. Every photo. Every single photo. I had my doubts.

The second phone call overwhelmed me. He’d thought about me non-stop and felt we had a real connection. Too much based on too little.

The next day I broke up with my virtual boyfriend like a millennial…by text.