Last weekend I had a friend over for a glass two bottles of wine in my new apartment. We discussed the oddities of being twentysomethings; how weird it is that people we know are having babies ON PURPOSE; the perils of being fat and broke, which–in the scheme of things–neither of us is; and recent dates we’ve been on…or lack there of. Taking advantage of the opportunity to show off what a cool, open-minded New Yorker I am, I said that I had just created a profile on Tinder. “Tinder?” she responded, in a tone that I can only describe as “What is this, 2014?” I might as well have said, “I still pull my hair through a cap, and tomorrow I’m getting my first diaphragm!”
There I was, thinking I was this modern woman, when really I was your grandfather who still mail orders two DVDs from Netflix every week because he doesn’t know about online streaming.
I’m sort of kidding. I didn’t really believe Tinder was a hot new way of meeting Mr. Right, or Mr. Right Now, or experimenting, or whatever I’m supposed to be doing at this point in my life. But I did think it was still relevant.
“You have to get Hinge!” she said. “Here, I have a whole folder.” She proceeded to pull out her iPhone and show me the array of dating apps I need if I want to…do whatever people who have dating apps do.
I believe there are two types of people in this world: those who will follow through with a Tinder date and those who won’t. I imagine that people who are cool with meeting their partner through a dating app are the same people who have no problem asking someone for help at the grocery store. You either walk up and down the aisles, thinking eventually you’ll find whatever you’re looking for–and maybe something else even better along the way–or you wise up and say, “Why would I waste my time hoping I’ll stumble upon the one when someone can just point it out to me?” Personally, I wander around the store aimlessly for hours and then just go somewhere else if I can’t find what I’m looking for. I guess the relationship equivalent of this is wasting my youth being too vain for dating apps before I ultimately give up and try my luck as a lesbian.
I’m also the type of person who might deny that I found my partner online. We met at a farmers market. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. With my luck, now I’ll meet my next boyfriend at a farmers market and have to make up something else. I’m no expert on dating, and I’m definitely no expert on grocery shopping. They’re both things I never really had to do in college and I’m learning about in my post-grad life. But I guess all that really matters is that you go home with something good.
As Blog is My Witness 