The 13 Stages of Tinder

If you are single in 2016, there is a very good chance you’ve been on Tinder at least once. As I figure at my most positive, 26 million matches a day can’t be wrong…  and if you’re on Tinder, you’ll probably need to be at your most positive.

I’ve been doing it off and on for the last two years. Though mostly off because let’s face it, there’s only so many hours and weirdos in the day – I have a job, after all, and that witty WhatsApp banter doesn’t write itself.

I last downloaded and deleted Tinder in record time, a seven day stretch was all it took to survey the gym show offs and reams of ‘LOL lads’ and realise I’m probably a bit too past this. The whole thing can be quite exhausting: from the excitement of meeting a seemingly normal bloke and spending far too many evenings digitally flirting to the crushing crushing disappointment of at best zero IRL chemistry and at worst stone cold weirdos with criminal records.

Has happened.

Will I ever make the move back to swiping again? Right now I’d rather get a puppy and a hot water bottle, so in the meantime here’s the mental rollercoaster you’re missing out on if you’re not on the swiping wagon:

Hope:

Finally giving into the peer pressure of downloading Tinder after being bombarded with stories like “my friend’s cousin’s best friend’s sister met her husband on there! It’s full of lovely eligible men!”. Think my friends might be more sick of my single status than me.

Start flexing fingers for some experimental swiping.

Preparation:

Which of my photos say ‘intelligent yet humorous yet sporty yet laid back yet hard working?’ Going to include the swimsuit images, obvs. And the ones of me in Thailand because I’m, like, so well-travelled. Ooh and one at a gig with friends so they know I HAVE FRIENDS AND LIKE MUSIC! Look at me, the most well-rounded woman you’ll find. Now, how do I describe myself? Better note that I do yoga so they’ll know I’m all zen and shit.

Confusion:

So is it left or right if you like them? What happens if you accidentally swipe the wrong way? DID I JUST BIN THE LOVE OF MY LIFE WITH A FINGER TWITCH? How do I know which one he is if all the images are of him and ‘the lads’? Why are there so many photos of drugged-up tigers? Why do men take selfies in such messy bedrooms? Why are they all so intent on telling me their height? Why are men such a fan of massive run-on sentences? When did I become such a grammar nazi? I need a lie-down.

Understanding:

Right, I think I’ve got the hang of this, now. I’ve swiped right on the most normal looking blokes and they seem nice enough – let’s get this party started, shall we?

Confusion, again:

Why is a man in his 30s saying ‘LOL’ every two seconds? Did that nice-sounding doctor really call me a frigid bitch for not agreeing to have sex with him within 5 minutes of matching (yes, yes he did)? When did hench selfies become A Thing? Why are men so obsessed with telling me their height? Why do married men think their wedding pictures are acceptable profile photos? Is that guy literally just a floating head?

Hopefulness:

I have a date! And he doesn’t seem like a total weirdo! SUCCESS. I AM TINDER QUEEN AND WILL BE HAPPY FOREVER. I am going to spend six days planning my outfit because this is going to go SOOOO well.

Disappointment:

Oh. Now I know why the height thing is so important. How long is it appropriate to stay on a date with a man six inches shorter than you before you make your excuses and bugger off? (answer: 2 hours). That was a waste of time. Never mind, I will eat pizza in bed, the height of the single person’s comfort, and get back to the swiping.

Hopefulness, again:

I’ve done it! I’ve achieved the impossible and found a brilliant man! He’s 5’ 11” and has excellent WhatsApp banter! What could possibly go wrong?!

Disappointment, again:

Oh. WhatsApp banter does not a great man make.

Lethargy:

Can I really be arsed with all this? Seems like a lot of effort chatting up strangers who will most likely be annoying/drips/weird. Think of what else I can do with all that free time. I can cure a disease, or figure out Brexit!

Perseverance:

Go on then, we’ll try this one last time. I’m sure my future ex-boyfriend is a simple swipe away; after all, if it wasn’t for Tinder, what would I do when I can’t get to sleep at night?

Disgust:

I think that dick pic is the last straw… I don’t believe the man of my dreams snaps photos of his manhood in random public toilets. Sigh.

Deletion: 

I’d rather read the Daily Mail when I can’t sleep than look at any more photos of men in tiny vests flexing their muscles at the gym. And think of all the space I’ll free up on my iPhone! Pizza in bed alone sounds pretty good right now.

Bye, Tinder.