Natasha Exelby was NOT husband hunting when she tenatively signed up for Tinder. Which was just as well…
If you’d asked me a year ago if I would even consider a dating website, I would have laughed at you. It’s for the dateless and desperate. I’m not desperate… But, alas, I’m definitely dateless.
Being single and fabulous has suited me for a long time. However, when it was bravely presented to me by friends that my intimate moments are less frequent than leap years, I saw cause for action. As social media seeps into our everyday lives, maybe, just maybe… this Tinder thing could be a goer.
Facebook is a glorious invention, and I have been known to Tweet… Is Tinder merely an honest and necessary extension of this? A communication portal the children of tomorrow will be flabbergasted we ever went without?
Ok. Fine, I thought. I’ll do it. But here are the conditions. This is not a ‘husband hunt’. I will be on Tinder for four weeks. I will go on one date a week.
I will get my skills up, then swiftly depart the false anonymity of the world-wide-web, flanked with resilience and wisdom to navigate my way through intimate affairs.
Here is what I learnt.
1. Tinder is like being at a pub in your pyjamas.
And, just like the talent pool at your local watering hole, there’s the usual quota of muppets. For example, ignore any guy who is shirtless or doing a selfie.
2. The longer the bio, the more the baggage.
A common pre-curser to nut jobs is a bio that looks more like a book review. If a guy has more than three sentences, there’s a good chance he’s got a bit going on. Essentially, it’s a mission statement to every girl he’s ever dated. I particularly enjoy gentlemen who say ‘I’m looking for honesty, I don’t play games.’ What he really means to say is ‘I liked a girl once. She didn’t like me back. But I pursued her anyway and eventually she filed an AVO. I’m still bitter about that.’