By anonymous
One Saturday night a couple weeks ago, my friend Ellie* and I thought it would be a brilliant social experiment to meet up with a guy I matched with on Tinder. This decision was mainly fueled by our tequila-lemonade concoction (we’re sophisticated ladies, I swear). The more we drank, the more entertaining swiping through people’s profiles became, eventually leading to the point where we thought it’d be fun to meet up with someone.
One Saturday night a couple weeks ago, my friend Ellie* and I thought it would be a brilliant social experiment to meet up with a guy I matched with on Tinder. This decision was mainly fueled by our tequila-lemonade concoction (we’re sophisticated ladies, I swear). The more we drank, the more entertaining swiping through people’s profiles became, eventually leading to the point where we thought it’d be fun to meet up with someone.
If you’re not familiar with Tinder, it’s a dating app that brings up profiles of people nearby you. You sign up using your Facebook login information, and although this may be unsettling for some, the app never posts anything to your page. You can either swipe right (yes) or left (no) depending on your interest in the person. If you want to see a little bit more about them, you can tap on their picture to see their bio, up to 5 more pictures, and if you have any mutual friends or shared interests. Yes it’s shallow – but it’s so addictive. One thing you can’t criticize Tinder for is being exclusionary. Users have the option to select their gender preference (guys, girls, or both), an age range, and mile radius.
Tinder caters perfectly to our generation’s hook up culture. Although it’s marketed as a dating app, the majority of Tinderites (as coined by Ellie) use it for hook-ups. Granted, my friends and I mainly use it for harmless fun. It’s like the McDonald’s of dating services – fast, convenient, and although it doesn’t have much sustenance, it’s satisfying (especially when drunk).
I’ve been using Tinder long enough to notice certain trends. At least a quarter of the guys on Tinder pose with a baby or puppy in their main picture (these strategic props usually increase their chances of getting a yes). Guys holding guns or who have gym selfies are an automatic no. Bios are also incredibly important, because besides your pictures, they’re the only way to let others know anything about you. For example, my bio says “Writer and nap enthusiast”. Meanwhile, Ellie’s says “Burritos. Naps. Akon”. These short quips give guys a good sense of who we are.
Harvard boy (as I will call him because he’s a med student there) seemed like nice, normal guy. He was 24, tall, and brunette. One of his pictures was with Dr. Drew, so by looking up the celebrity doctor’s height I was able to gauge about how tall Harvard boy would be. Since Google told me Dr. Drew is 6’ tall, I was able to guess that he would be around 6’2 or so.
We exchanged numbers and continued our conversation via text. He told me he was going to be at Brahmin (whatever that was) for a buddy’s birthday party, and that I should join. Not wanting to get murdered (shout out to my parents always having Dateline on growing up), I persuaded Ellie to join me.
We took to the streets of Boston, not knowing what to expect of our encounter with Harvard boy. It turns out Brahmin is a nightclub, and a popular one at that. Since we didn’t feel like waiting an hour in line, I texted him saying we’d meet up with him later. While this was all happening my friend Claire* had arranged to meet up with another Tinder guy at a Harvard Architecture gala at the Park Plaza.
Tinder caters perfectly to our generation’s hook up culture. Although it’s marketed as a dating app, the majority of Tinderites (as coined by Ellie) use it for hook-ups. Granted, my friends and I mainly use it for harmless fun. It’s like the McDonald’s of dating services – fast, convenient, and although it doesn’t have much sustenance, it’s satisfying (especially when drunk).
I’ve been using Tinder long enough to notice certain trends. At least a quarter of the guys on Tinder pose with a baby or puppy in their main picture (these strategic props usually increase their chances of getting a yes). Guys holding guns or who have gym selfies are an automatic no. Bios are also incredibly important, because besides your pictures, they’re the only way to let others know anything about you. For example, my bio says “Writer and nap enthusiast”. Meanwhile, Ellie’s says “Burritos. Naps. Akon”. These short quips give guys a good sense of who we are.
Harvard boy (as I will call him because he’s a med student there) seemed like nice, normal guy. He was 24, tall, and brunette. One of his pictures was with Dr. Drew, so by looking up the celebrity doctor’s height I was able to gauge about how tall Harvard boy would be. Since Google told me Dr. Drew is 6’ tall, I was able to guess that he would be around 6’2 or so.
We exchanged numbers and continued our conversation via text. He told me he was going to be at Brahmin (whatever that was) for a buddy’s birthday party, and that I should join. Not wanting to get murdered (shout out to my parents always having Dateline on growing up), I persuaded Ellie to join me.
We took to the streets of Boston, not knowing what to expect of our encounter with Harvard boy. It turns out Brahmin is a nightclub, and a popular one at that. Since we didn’t feel like waiting an hour in line, I texted him saying we’d meet up with him later. While this was all happening my friend Claire* had arranged to meet up with another Tinder guy at a Harvard Architecture gala at the Park Plaza.
It turns out the guy who told us about the gala doesn’t even go to Harvard. Regardless, no one there seemed to care that a group of Emerson girls was crashing their swanky event. Apparently it’s a trend among aspiring architects to look about 13 because the gala felt more like a bar mitzvah than a prestigious college event. While we were at the gala, Harvard boy texted me saying he was leaving Brahmin. I told him to meet up with us at the hotel.
Upon first encounter I was relieved that Harvard looked like he did in his pictures. He greeted me with a warm hug and we chatted while my friends gathered their things to head back to Emerson. We walked ahead of everyone back to campus so we could talk one-on-one. For those who were doubting that he actually is a med student at Harvard, I saw his school ID while he got out his driver’s license to sign in.
You may expect that something saucy happened next once we got back to campus, but don’t get your hopes up. The group of us decided to play Cards Against Humanity in my suite. I don’t know if it was because the effects of the tequila were wearing off, or if Harvard boy’s true colors started to show, but the night started to get really weird. He laughed at everything, including his own jokes. He seemed to have short term memory loss because he would repeat the same questions. “Yes, I live in this suite.” “No, we don’t all live here.” “Only she and I live here.”
I also remember him making an off-color abortion joke. Granted we were playing Cards Against Humanity, so we’re not saints, but my friends and I still weren’t impressed. As the night wore on, I tried to think of ways to get him to leave without being rude. I even slyly texted Claire who was sitting next to me.
Me: What is going on? I can’t
Claire: He’s so nerdeeee
Me: How can we get him to leave?
Claire: I don’t know. Say we’re going to bed and he should go
Eventually Ellie said she was going to bed. The rest of my friends got up to follow her. With maybe a little too much excitement, I jumped and said, “Alright! It’s time to sign you out!” Not my best, I’ll admit. His disappointment was obvious. As I rode the elevator down with him, and walked him out, we half-heartedly agreed to meet up sometime he the future. At that point, Harvard must have known that I wasn’t interested. He gave me a goodbye hug that was less friendly than the first one and walked off to catch a cab.
A couple days later, I was scrolling through my Tinder matches (which as of now is at 574). It seemed that Harvard boy was missing from my list of Tinder suitors. I searched his name and sure enough he wasn’t there. Either he blocked me, or deleted the entire app. Whatever the case, I have a feeling I won’t be seeing him again anytime soon.
I wasn’t delusional enough to believe that something meaningful would come out of meeting a guy on Tinder. But my experience with Harvard boy just reinforced the idea that you can’t truly get a sense of who people are over the internet (well at least Tinder). I know many people who use Tinder, but not that many who have actually met up with someone in person. So I wanted to share my experience – I wasn’t murdered, and I didn’t meet the love of my life. I still use Tinder for fun, but I’m not sure if I’ll meet anyone in person again.
Images: sleazemag.com , digitaltrends.com, hubnightlife.com
*name has been changed
Upon first encounter I was relieved that Harvard looked like he did in his pictures. He greeted me with a warm hug and we chatted while my friends gathered their things to head back to Emerson. We walked ahead of everyone back to campus so we could talk one-on-one. For those who were doubting that he actually is a med student at Harvard, I saw his school ID while he got out his driver’s license to sign in.
You may expect that something saucy happened next once we got back to campus, but don’t get your hopes up. The group of us decided to play Cards Against Humanity in my suite. I don’t know if it was because the effects of the tequila were wearing off, or if Harvard boy’s true colors started to show, but the night started to get really weird. He laughed at everything, including his own jokes. He seemed to have short term memory loss because he would repeat the same questions. “Yes, I live in this suite.” “No, we don’t all live here.” “Only she and I live here.”
I also remember him making an off-color abortion joke. Granted we were playing Cards Against Humanity, so we’re not saints, but my friends and I still weren’t impressed. As the night wore on, I tried to think of ways to get him to leave without being rude. I even slyly texted Claire who was sitting next to me.
Me: What is going on? I can’t
Claire: He’s so nerdeeee
Me: How can we get him to leave?
Claire: I don’t know. Say we’re going to bed and he should go
Eventually Ellie said she was going to bed. The rest of my friends got up to follow her. With maybe a little too much excitement, I jumped and said, “Alright! It’s time to sign you out!” Not my best, I’ll admit. His disappointment was obvious. As I rode the elevator down with him, and walked him out, we half-heartedly agreed to meet up sometime he the future. At that point, Harvard must have known that I wasn’t interested. He gave me a goodbye hug that was less friendly than the first one and walked off to catch a cab.
A couple days later, I was scrolling through my Tinder matches (which as of now is at 574). It seemed that Harvard boy was missing from my list of Tinder suitors. I searched his name and sure enough he wasn’t there. Either he blocked me, or deleted the entire app. Whatever the case, I have a feeling I won’t be seeing him again anytime soon.
I wasn’t delusional enough to believe that something meaningful would come out of meeting a guy on Tinder. But my experience with Harvard boy just reinforced the idea that you can’t truly get a sense of who people are over the internet (well at least Tinder). I know many people who use Tinder, but not that many who have actually met up with someone in person. So I wanted to share my experience – I wasn’t murdered, and I didn’t meet the love of my life. I still use Tinder for fun, but I’m not sure if I’ll meet anyone in person again.
Images: sleazemag.com , digitaltrends.com, hubnightlife.com
*name has been changed