Trying to find love on dating apps like Tinder or Hinge is like junk food — you know it’s not good for you, you’ll end up consuming more after you say you won’t, and you often leave unsatiated.
Think about it. You reach in the pantry for that bag of Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles and how would you describe those first few bites? You get that satisfying crunch from between your teeth, that feeling of the ridges against the roof of your mouth, and at the end of it (if you’re me anyway) you lick your index and thumb to signify a job well done. After that what do you feel? Happiness? Sure, albeit temporary. Some nostalgia (again if you’re like me) back to childish memories. But all in all, you know every time you go that loud ass bag it’ll do nothing for you in terms of long-term satisfaction.
Okay, now allow me to set the scene for our “dating” scenario. Wednesday night and you’re in bed “unwinding”. You open that pink flamed app and instantly begin your five to ten second once over of profile after profile. Picture of a deer and or fish in hand? Quick left. Camo print? Hard left. Nice professional pictures with a mix of friends and adventures? Right. Good joke in bio? Reluctant right (Comedians must support each other, right?) Oh, instant match? Great! Dopamine achieved but time for another, and another, and (you guessed it) another. Some result in dates and plenty more in hookups and yet you return. Is that sustainable? More importantly, is that enough? Interviewees in Nancy Jo Sales “Tinder and the ‘Dawn of the ‘Dating Apocalypse’” find no problem. Professional twentysomethings in Manhattan, the young men are not consumed with getting to know the women and according to Alex, a lack of “significant intimate knowledge of his potential sexual partners” makes no difference. The true objective? To rack up as many hook ups by the end of the year and the thrill of the chase. With the rise of the internet dating, we’ve gone from heartfelt messages through AOL to oh so charming “Wanna f*ck” on the first swipe. The once sincere practice has turned animalistic and devoid of affection as Nick, age 25, says “I’m on Tinder, Happn, Hinge, OkCupid…it’s a number’s game…before, I could go out and talk to one girl, but now I can sit home on Tinder and talk to 15.” The men and women talk extensively about the ease of online hookup culture and its reliability for sex but not so much for long term dependability. Quantity over quality reigns supreme and there seems to be no end in sight. But of course, there are plenty of Nicks out there and Nicki (because women can exclusively want sex too) but what’s the solution for people ready to put the clip on that bag of chips and go for pita chips? So, what’s the solution? You substitute for a healthier alternative. Celery? Maybe. Carrots? Only if you’re a heathen. Cooking those groceries, you bought three days ago? All attainable adjustments. So, what’s the dating equivalent? Asking your neighbor out on a date? Flirting with a Starbucks stranger? I posit a different direction (at every risk of sounding cliché): it starts from within. Let me explain: to change one’s snacking habit, they must ask why? Tinder at its best is familiar and comfortable but at worst perpetuates instant gratification swipe to swipe. Everyone might have a different reason for swiping: forgetting an ex, boredom, convenience, etc. But to hopeless romantics (of which I’ve held membership since ’12) Our solution starts back in that bed scene I described. You start by close the app (baby steps…we’re working toward deletion). You open that notebook you found super charming at that local thrift shop and start writing to yourself and outpouring love with yourself before ordering your favorite meal. With few words on the page, you remember how much you loved writing and know you want to start being more consistent. Next Wednesday, you find yourself writing again within that little leather book writing out your thoughts; through heartfelt phrases and small praises that bring a smile you can’t erase. And the next Wednesday, you repeat the same routine with a cramping writing hand but a lighter spirit. Next Humpday? You finally get the app without a second thought. I say that because I have done and am doing it. Not every aspect of Tinder is bad; it has its place in interpersonal interactions and won’t leave soon. Nor is writing for everyone. I share because I believe in this radical self-love and its ability to disrupt dating tastes to desire more than measly morsels. Sure, I’ll miss that cheesy finger residue; but I’m willing to wait for something of depth and put those chips back in the pantry.
My name is TaShira Iverson and I thank you for reading my story. Engage with your reactions, give me a follow, and stay tuned for more content soon!
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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