The one with Tinder

This is where modernity meets mediocrity. You’ve been given the easiest, the smartest, the most efficient tool that enables you to peek out of your solitude, talk to people, get laid. What could possibly go wrong? Are we humans too intelligent to express ourselves in such a manner? Don’t fool yourself. It’s just that we have never been modern, at least not since the ancient Greece. Why, we use the internet but we don’t use our brains. There are people out there who would try to connect via Facebook with the spirits of their dead folks, they use it to tweet the devil, they upload the videos of them tables turning, ain’t they?

That’s right, modern people are made in caves. And it ain’t Platonic.

So don’t blame the application, you dummy.

Just imagine. Living your life in a fast-developing, constantly changing world of diversity, where everyone is chasing their own chimeras, where no-one has time to be oneself, far too busy being someone else, chronically preoccupied doing things they don’t like, doing what they’re told is worth doing, unable to do what they find worth doing, believing that what others believe is believable enough to be believed, alone and incapable of binding stable relationships, alone among others, collectively outsiders, alone in your own company, too alone to quit being alone, with your back against the wall, with fear of rejection, with irrational anxiety, uncomfortable with being uncomfortable, yet too comfortable in your dark comfort zone of painful resentment, facebookly exposed, instalated from the real life and netflixed in solitary fiction, just imagine there are people out there.

You pass them by, you watch them from a good safe distance, you try to guess what they’re like, you admire their beauty, you imagine what it would be to get to know them. You dream of sweet togetherness. But you go to different schools, you take different buses, you cross different streets, you watch different movies, you listen to different music. Our minds are framed in the way that does not allow us to just initiate a conversation, say “hello” spontaneously, introduce ourselves without fear of being judged and rejected or simply suspected of some evil intentions. That’s how it works.

But maybe, on the other side of the river, in a different part of the city lives a person like you, a person who also feels the same needs, shares your views, has similar tastes in music and films, likes the same ice creams. By the way, let’s not forget that this person is quite cute.

Most likely, though you both seem to be made for each other, you will never meet.

And there comes the greatest, the most fabulous invention of our time: Tinder.

The idea seems quite simple: you upload some photos of yours and write a few words about yourself. Then you either like or dislike people and wait for people to either like or dislike you. If it’s a match, you start talking and when you’re done talking and you feel like it, you go out and see each other.

So the first thing you see are them photos. I don’t know about boys, but girls like it cute and well retouched. Girls that are naturally cute can simply show any photo of theirs and just wait for guys to admire them. But some girls find they have to mess up with reality, they tend to correct nature, to hide their little flaws, to pose in a position that would make Adele look like Ariana Grande. Listen, girl, one will find out anyway. So why don’t you just accept yourself the way you are. You can also work your ass out at the gym and hope it gets tight, but please, do not try to fool anybody, it is not polite. Why, do I pretend to have some wrecking balls like the one Miley Cyrus swings on? Do I pretend to have chest like Rambo? Do I pretend that I speak five languages? No, I just do.

But let’s pretend I like your photos. I find you’re quite attractive and I’d like to talk to you. Now, how do I start? Oh, wait, there must be something to start with in what you say about yourself!

Now some say there’s not enough space for them to write about themselves. However, many of them have never written anything longer than a tweet. Furthermore, some girls tend to waste that space to write about how tall they are or how they don’t like writing about themselves. Some say they’re crazy. But if you say you’re crazy, most likely you’re not. Some say they are sarcastic. But you don’t say you’re sarcastic – that’s what sarcasm is about, isn’t it?

Same for being ironic: it is such a clever thing to do, as to reveal to the world the utter truth about you being ironic, thank you.

Some say they’re attracted to intelligence. Great, please, be my judge, it doesn’t matter what you bring to the table, you can surely estimate how smart or stupid I am. Once a girl asked me suspiciously what was the last book I’d read. I gave her a few French titles of some publications in literary theory, semiology and epistemic critic, and she never answered back.

So it turns out most girls are sapiosexual. And ironic.

Why is that? It is rude and unfair to expect from anyone to be intelligent.

Am I intelligent? I hope not. Are you? I don’t care.

Some girls love travels and to eat, and yes, they ignore syntax.

They say that if you can’t stand them at their worse, you don’t deserve them at their best. What kind of rhetorical fascism is that? I say if you’re not there for me at my worse, I don’t need you at my best.

Some say: no ONS. Now, for the ignorant and uncultivated, this acronym stands for “one night stand”, meaning that you hook up and have sex and forget about each other the next day. Well, as cool as it sounds, hardly anyone wants to keep it that simple. For if it’s good, why not do that again sometime? Why does it have to be one night, when we can fuck on a daily basis? Where’s the logic? Then again, if the night is not good, no wonder it’s no more than “one”, right?

Why, you cannot expect from a man or a woman to fuck for charity. It’s unhuman and it’s against the idea of equality. For if one actually fucked for charity, he should fuck everyone.

But let’s be honest, girls have their point here: they don’t like boys to be cavemen. So you boys should at least pretend not to be instantly horny and waiting to get laid. Go talk about some stuff, say something smart, tell her about books you like or movies you watch and don’t get too excited, don’t push it, play it cool. Don’t act like a jerk, you already are one. Everybody knows what men are like, it just doesn’t have to be made more obvious.

But it turns out that even the talking part ain’t that easy. To start with, girls expect you to be the master of the opening lines. They are so serious about it that they use the space they have to write about themselves to manifest their reluctance towards guys who start with “hello”. Apparently they find it ain’t smart enough. You have to be a damn wizard of small talk to develop some brilliant welcome, like a copywriter for a great company that’s all about “Connecting people” or “I’m lovin’ it”.

And then, once you start chatting, it’s either an instant chemistry or just “yes” and “no” kind of answers. Just like in real life.

So you end up with five hundred pairs, you start several dozen conversations, you try to keep track of who you talk to and who you sleep with. Sometimes it turns into something more serious, most of the times it doesn’t. It’s easier to forget that on the other side there’s an actual human being, when you think of it as a bunch of photos from a dating app. Sometimes it’s simply a disillusion. And sometimes you both just need to get laid and you get what you want only to agreeably forget about it. That is all.

In general, we mostly misunderstand and therefore misuse the potential that technology offers us and instead of improving the quality of our lives, we go digging deeper and deeper into our lonely depressive holes. Modernity offers us connection, but we bring our ridiculous fears and prejudices to it. Our hasty and unjustified judgments estrange us from people we barely know. Our anxiety, overthinking and chaotic reflection drive us away from real creatures that await us out there, willing to talk, craving for intimacy, just like we do. But alas! They are also driven by fear, anxiety and overthinking, just like we are.