An ode to dating apps.

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A couple of weeks ago, I found myself single once again. The ‘you’re dumped’ text came through, and within the same second, bumble and hinge were downloaded. (Not tinder – I received a hefty 25yr ban after an incident with sending my pal my other pal’s only fan account, which counts as selling sex for money)

Really, I should’ve learned my lesson by now – all three of my boyfriends I found through dating apps, and they’ve never really been successful. Granted I was with one of the boys for nearly three years, but time doesn’t equal a success does it? So why do I keep going back? (Even after my nana begged me on the phone this weekend to stop meeting boys off of tinder.

Number one – the absolute inability to reply once you mention anything about a traumatic past. So I was sexually assaulted three years ago, a truth I’m very comfortable with, so much so, that most of my writing opportunities came from me being so open about it. Turns out when you match with a guy on bumble, and within the first ten messages you’re talking about how you’re passionate about the safety of sexual assault survivors, you either get a message like ‘oh’, or even better, no reply at all. It’s like a filter; here are the three boys left who aren’t scared of reality.

Number two – Is it partially an addiction? Yes. There is no better feeling than swiping right, and it resulting in a match. Not for romantic reasons, it’s just a massive ego boost isn’t it?

Number three – Like Emma and Mr Knightley, (but far less romantic) a small dream of mine is to fall for a richer, older man, which is why I have my age setting 22-33. There’s nothing more settling than knowing a guy has a job, and is no longer a man child. However, if they have their settings as low as 22 should probably be a massive red flag, but where’s the fun without them.

Number four – the premium content. See Exhibit A, B and C

Dating1                                Dating2Dating3

 

Number five –the witty anecdotes that will inevitably be part of my repertoire when I eventually turn to comedy as a coping mechanism. After a second date with a boy from Bumble (a very small part of me thought he was my future husband), and four ciders, I bit the bullet and confidently went in for the kiss. Not only did he take a large step back when I went in, but I was so embarrassed I had to physically run away. The next day I received a text from the guy saying he still had feelings for someone else. If this wasn’t a slap in the face enough, after returning to Hinge, I get notification saying ‘here is Fred (we’ll call him Fred), you two are extremely compatible. You two should meet’.

Number six –most of the girls that were in my year are either moving in w their boyfriends/getting engaged/getting married or having children. I know that shouldn’t be a reason for using dating apps, but at least I acknowledge that fact, and realise what I’m doing is wrong. Will it stop using it? Most likely not. Whilst my pals are shacking up with their long-term boyfriend, I’m getting a messages at 1am, saying ‘tell me, what is your opinion on pineapple on pizza 😊’, or ‘you up?’.

With all joking aside (not about the addiction, I’m definitely slightly addicted), I know I don’t need a boyfriend. I’m good enough by myself, and I know this because I’ve seen my rendition of ‘all that jazz’ in the mirror, and any guy would be incredibly lucky to date me.

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