Tinder's Downfall: Thoughts from a bus

Friday, November 27, 2015

Currently I'm sitting on a bus, heading for Wellington. My headphones are broken and I've run out of energy on Candy Crush.

Really I only have two options at this point: eat my bacon and egg sandwich or write a blogpost. Considering I've still got three hours on this bus before we reach home, I've decided on the latter.

I've been in Wanganui for the past two days for a funeral, and as I've been staying with my Mum and Aunty who both go to bed before 9pm, I've spent the past two nights staring at the ceiling listening to heavy snores, snorts and snuffles and thinking a lot. When you're practically nocturnal, but are made to go to bed before midnight, you have a lot of time for contemplation.

Anyway last night I was texting a boy, a very wonderful boy, who loves The Eagles, hates cheese (fucking weirdo) and speaks with a beautiful English accent that made my ovaries explode the first time I heard him speak, and I started thinking about how we met.

Tinder is a strange and illusive part of our day to day lives. It seems you either love it or you hate it. It's a simple yet ultimately shallow form of meeting people: if you like their profile, swipe right and hope they did the same. If you don't like the look of them, swipe left. Simple yet shallow.

Most Tinder users are using the app for one reason and one reason only: hook-ups. I'm not ashamed to admit that my "number" went up considerably when I broke up with my last boyfriend. The ordeal turned me into a cold emotionless whore, and within a few weeks of becoming single I was chewing men up and spitting them out, one after the other. It's something every person should do at least once in their lives. Sex is fun, and sometimes it's all you need. After the mess that was my last relationship, another boyfriend hanging around was the last thing I needed. Tinder provided the perfect tool, instrumental in meeting up with the hottest boys in Wellington, all while remaining cool, illusive, and best of all, single. Free at last. 

The problem with Tinder, is eventually you're going to hit a good one, and that is precisely what happened to me. 3 2 1 smackdown, I was smitten. Slutty summer ended just as quickly as it had started.

It's truly Tinder's downfall: attachment. We're all human, we are all connected in some way shape or form. Eventually you're going to meet someone you take a fancy for, it's human nature. Otherwise the human race would have died out years ago. This is not necessarily a terrible thing. There is something lovely about being with someone, like really being with them, that makes the bad days all seem worthwhile. I'm sure one day I'll think about my ex and all the happy times we shared, and not regret getting back with him after he broke up with me a third time and came running back a month later. I hope.

I'm not saying this new boy is my soulmate, it will probably end in a cascade of fire and brimstone just like before. I'm remaining pessimistic, yet I can't help but smile when he furrows his brow at my ham and cheese sandwich, or sings along to Desperado, or brushs his hand along the small of my back and tells me I'm beautiful. 

Of course we're not telling anyone we met on Tinder, because that's hella embarrassing. If anyone asks, we'll just tell them we met in jail.

Anyway I've just reached Palmerston North and I feel I can longer resist the call of my bacon and egg sandwich. Bacon and egg is after all, the true bae. The only bae I'll ever need.

Until next time babes xx

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