What Your Shitty Tinder Anthem Says About You

Curating the perfect Tinder profile is impossible. You have to appear fit without: a) looking like you know it and; b) creating unrealistic expectations. You have to pretend you have other interests beyond just getting drunk and being at work. You have to choose GIFs that are funny, but also show you are DTF. You have to seem like you enjoy having fun in a 'yeah I go to loads of parties with my mates at the weekend' way, rather than a 'yeah I take a shit ton of meth and can barely hold my life together' way. You have to act like you don't give a fuck, while also seeming like you do, but only about the right things. No wonder people in their twenties aren't having much sex these days.

When Tinder teamed up with Spotify last year to introduce their "anthem" feature, making the perfect profile got a whole lot harder. Your Tinder anthem is the bit where you distill all your intentions, tastes and entire personality into three and half minutes of Drake or whatever. I would like to say it doesn't make a difference, but it really, really does. Your Tinder anthem says everything. It's like what shoes you wear or how you cut your hair. It says where you fall on the scale of basic fuckboi to recently divorced. It is so transparent, in fact, that we decided to break it down into this handy guide to what your Tinder anthem says about who you fundamentally are as a human being:

You think this is a really good joke. "Heh," you tittered to yourself – having another mouthful of pasta and Dolmio sauce directly from the pan and then holding the fork in your mouth as you frantically access your profile settings – "this is funny because it implies that I might be a murderer when, in fact, I am not a murderer at all. I am just an enormous moron who has not once had to consider the many different threats of violence that present themselves to people using dating apps that are reported on a daily basis". You are a straight, cis man.

Your bio reads "VEGAN / POLY / DOUBLE GEMINI, AQUARIUS MOON / STRICTLY NON-MONOG / ANTI-FASCIST WITCH / PRO-KINK / ANARCHISM / PLANTS / DIY / IF YOU WANNA BE MY LOVER YOU GOTTA GET WITH MY ANXIETY" followed by three crystal ball emojis. You have two photos, one of a wonky close-up of your tiny – so tiny it's practically non-existent – green fringe and septum piercing, and the other of you clutching your Siamese cat, Kim Gordon. Your profile is linked to your Instagram, which is mainly just post-post-ironic political memes which you have made yourself and will one day turn into a zine. You did Gender Studies. You answer every single message with "lmao". I probably want to date you.

You downloaded Tinder again last week because you were grafting on Becs – a solid eight – only for her to be so annoying that you had to pie her off and take some other bird up The Shard for cocktails instead. It doesn't matter anyway, because you and the lads are going to Marbs next month so Becs can jog on, the cheeky cow. If I were somehow able to look inside your perfectly-coiffed head, which smells very strongly of Paco Rabanne eau de toilette, all I would find are the words "boobs" "bum" and "banter" on slow, steady, constant rotation. Weheey!

You are obviously a legend. I hope you experience a lifetime of deeply fulfilling sexual and/or romantic relationships that will enrich the lives of all involved.

"Three books that changed your life? Go!" you ask every single person you match with. You do not engage with their answers. "No Jack Kerouac 'On The Road'?" you then reply, to all of them, "I'm not sure we can be friends! ;-)". Your main pic is you busking outside Camden Town underground station in a fedora, and your second pic is you dressed up as Captain Jack Sparrow at a party in 2008. You are 29 years old. Your profile says that you went to the 'University of Life'. You start a lot of sentences with "Actually…" Both your parents live in Saint Albans and vote Conservative and, in five years time, so will you.

"Long walks on the beach, kissing in the rain, travel, film buff, foodie, occasional gin drinker, not looking for casual hook ups, no time wasters or selfie addicts plz, if you can't deal with bad puns or don't like Harry Potter swipe left LOL ;-)!" *rainbow emoji followed by two people holding hands emoji*

Your first two pics are grainy stock images, one of some hands tied together with leather, the other of an anime cartoon character in a sexy pose. The third is a blurry, flash-on mirror selfie of the both of you – because you are a couple, it turns out – one of you licking a bread knife suggestively, and the other looking dementedly into the camera, steampunk dress open to reveal everything, collection of china dolls' heads arranged on an empty mattress in the background. Your bio reads: "looking for hot single ladies to come hang out with fun young couple". No. Fucking. Way.

You have a humanities degree and are extremely vocal about the fact that you passed with a 2:1 (kind of like a 3.5 GPA) even though you "didn't even try". Your bathroom contains approximately 11 half-empty bottles of Original Source Mint shower gel. You are playing an acoustic guitar without shoes on in one picture, sunburned in another and smoking a rollie in literally all of them. Your favourite drink is cheap wine. This is the only Mac Demarco song you know.

Your ex, Emma, dumped you exactly nine days and four hours ago. Every swipe on Tinder is like a fresh taste of hell. You only swipe right on girls with thin eyebrows, ginger bobs and round faces because they look kind of like Emma if you squint. You change your anthem to "For Emma" on the off chance that if she's on Tinder too, she might see it and change her mind. "Hey!" Emma look-a-like number five messages you. "I like your tatts :-)!" "Thanks" you reply, before continuing to weep and swipe, weep and swipe; your tears landing onto this dull, glowing carousel of dead-eyed faces and body parts.

You can follow Daisy and Emma on Twitter here and here respectively.

(Lead image by Martin SoulStealer via Wikimedia)