Friday, 16 December 2016

[ the tinder experiment ]


We knew this was going to happen eventually. So without further ado, I present for your amusement; The Tinder Experiment...

***

Firstly, a little background. I'm a cautious person by nature, so I make sure I'm not cavalier with my safety. I don't give out my number straight off, I don't tell people where I live, and first meetings take place in PUBLIC PLACES, where at least 3 people KNOW WHERE I AM. 

That being said, of the half a dozen times I've ever tried Tinder, it's been from boredom. Seriously. I must have the attention span of a squirrel and the patience of a matchstick when it comes to meeting new people at times.

Oh, I'm not meeting anyone new, I groan (it's been 3 weeks, calm down). 

I keep seeing the same people all the time, I whine (bullshit; there are nearly 6 million people in Sydney alone. Shut. Up.).

How do I meet attractive people already?! (are you fucking kidding me? You stalked the last one around a bookstore until he asked for your phone number. It's not rocket science). 

So, basically, boredom. 

Which is interesting really, as I have a saturation point of two weeks, tops, when it comes to actually being on Tinder. It's almost like a few weeks of not getting stupid pick up lines, making dull small talk, and generally trying to be witty with random strangers can only be entertaining for so long. Who knew?

 ***

The difference this time is I really am here for the (comedy) social experiment. My last dating foray ended with gentle abruptness due to a rookie mistake on my part, which I'm totally fine with (read = it was clearly him, not me). So what I want to do is see if I can shake things up a little all over the shop, and see what falls out.

My profile now has a jaunty xmas slant, and invites potentials to argue if Die Hard is a xmas movie or not (that's rhetorical by the way). 

I know; epic disaster, right? It's going to be awesome!

***

Let's start with the analysis of Tinder talent. I'm not dumping all the blame on the lads here, but the ladies definitely try harder. I'd like to be able to say definitively why, but it's really unclear. Are we just better at putting ourselves out there, or do guys really not know what they look like in selfies? Anyway...

My first question is this; which one is you buddy? If every photo has you and four mates - and I think your mate is hotter than you - we're in trouble already. Without fail, every second man's photos are 90% him and his crew. Sooo...can you introduce me to the hot ginger with the washboard abs and aviators? No? Really? 

Initially, I thought everyone who told me this was in one some conspiracy to mess with my head, but no, there's hundreds of them... So my question is this; where the actual fuck do you find all these tigers? Seriously, is there a theme park called Tinder Island specifically for idiots to take photos with them? Do the tigers sign a waiver saying they are ok being online with some tool trying to pick up? I'm just curious ok. If we find that they are, in fact, not endangered, just hiding, I for one won't be surprised.

On a promising note, there are nowhere near as many dick picks and boob shots as expected - thank gods really. But seriously, do those of you just putting up torso shots really think people are only interested in the equipment? You know you actually have to talk to people first, right? However briefly? This isn't an escort agency, and even they have a meet and greet protocol. 

Ok, so we can't all be Annie Leibovitz, but I am deeply concerned by the total lack of ability some of you show in this department. We've had smart phones for what, nearly 20 years?, and half of you can't seem to take one decent headshot.

They are alternately fuzzed out, you're making appalling faces (are you in pain? confused by the flash? constipated? ), the lighting obscures you entirely, or it's just a really rubbish picture (no, no, please - show me another photo of you at an awkward moment, that mouth-hanging-open-like-a-zombie is sooo sexy)...

And on that note, what's with all the party shots? Or the live-action shots? In an unbelievable turn of events, you getting hammered at a dance party with 500 of your nearest and dearest gives me absolutely no clue as to what you look like front on. Only when off chops. So. Hawt. Obvi.

And the endless photos of you at the snow? Sure, because what's sexier than trying to see someone's face through six layers, reflective surfaces, and goggles? I totally want to hook up with someone who looks like they are in HAZMAT gear or are the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

For the last time; no, I don't like rock climbing. I am deeply ambivalent about long hikes in the bush (two words; insects and serialkillers). And no, I can't surf, and have zero desire to learn (haven't you seen Jaws?!).

Dear gods no, I do not want to go to the gym with you. I'd rather shove tabasco-laced razorblades under my fingernails. If I want a training session, I have a PT brother and a galpal with washboard abs to torture me at their well-trained leisure, and your efforts will be nothing in comparison.

Besides, I do not need gym equipment to assist me in making a fool of myself; I'm quite capable of that in everyday environments.

Moving on.

***

In an effort to get a decent sized focus group, I'm chatting to pretty much every one I 'match' with.

One of the girls at work (tall, leggy, 26 - just for context) is on there as well and doing the opposite. She says no one is talking to her and I tried pointing out that the issue may be lack of communication on her part, but she's having none of it.

Here's the thing; I'm treating Tinder like a game, and I plan to win. Like any game, you figure out what the goal is and go about getting that in the most direct route possible.

For those smartasses about to tell me that everyone knows the ultimate goal of Tinder, y'all can pipe down. That's the easy goal. I'm after the real prize.

Remember how I said my profile had a jaunty xmas twist? Now we get to the fun part. In true Bridget Jones tradition, I want people to dress in dodgy festive wear. I want pictures of puppies, I want to eat ham, and I want to sing xmas carols.

And I want to convince other people they want to do the same. Brilliant, isn't it? Ingenious, right?

And yes, just a wee bit creepy. Told this was going to be an epic disaster...


Bring it on


~*LTM*~








































No comments:

Post a Comment