It was a pretty drunken night when a pyjama party with friends took the strangest of turns. With my conscience sedated and sense of responsibility thwarted, endless rants on boyfriends, exes and crushes, I finally installed the Tinder app. Of course, I had little or no clue. My bestie’s goofy brother gave me a quick tutorial which could easily be summed up as – ‘Always swipe right. Try your luck everywhere.’ So I did, well mostly. Alcohol induced conversations, even digital, got very interesting.
Two weeks later, I uninstalled the app.
It was fun for most parts. After work, during my travel back and forth from work, strange conversations took on my life with equally strange people. But it got very irritating too. Those endless profile pictures of bare-chested men, flexing their muscles, at the gym, near the pool, in the bathroom… basically anywhere, got to me badly. Wait, did I mention the pouting? Not to mention the group shots in the profile images. Sheesh. More like a Russian Roulette. Who knows who Pankaj is in the group? Swipe right, and I may end up asking for his cute friend’s number, or is it a package deal?
The cruel misuse of the word ‘Sapiosexual’; especially when they add it to a seemingly endless list of emojis (which takes me forever to decipher) as an afterthought. Seriously? Few really mean it. Others probably enjoy sneaking in ‘sexual’ to their list of words strung together.
Worst was when I landed up swiping right too many times and ended up having conversations with all of them. At the same time. And when I would go back to the conversations 24 hours later, oh boy, did I mix up their names. I always had to quickly refresh my memory on the questions asked, answers provided, ‘alias’ being maintained. It was exhausting.
I know, I know, Tinder is for dating, casual sex and hook-ups – though it took me some time to exactly figure out what a ‘hook-up’ actually implies. So what. I’ll hook-up with whoever I want and whenever I want. Stop pestering me for my number every two seconds. Maybe I want to have an interesting conversation to see just how ‘sapiosexual’ you are. But nothing beats running out of people to swipe left or right on a long night, after a strenuously long day, and when you want to unwind creatively.
Since then, I’ve installed and uninstalled the stupid app almost three times. I’ve given my number to guys but stopped texting or responding to them. They’ve never really had anything interesting to say. ‘When can we meet?’ ‘Can we please have a decent conversation first? Three lines does not a conversation make.’ I’m yet to go on a Tinder date, but unable to fix my mind or loosen my boundaries. But hey, fingers crossed for fourth time’s the charm.