All illustrations by Claire Milbrath.
Going off my Zoloft and birth control simultaneously in 2014 has resulted in a brand new habit for me: Tinder—that, and a tattoo of my best friend’s name on my wrist. Anyway, my newfound Tinder usage doesn’t mean I’m fucking every guy within a ten-kilometer radius. In some ways, that would be a lot healthier. What my app-fueled dating spree
mean is that during every spare moment, whether on the streetcar or waiting for my food to meet me for dinner, I’m swiping left or right (mostly left). Even culling my list once in a while means that, currently, I have 150 possibilities—aka dudes I’m interested in enough to swipe the digital faces of who are interested in me too. That, in and of itself, is titillating. Tinder’s “It’s a Match!” buzz is just about enough for most women.
Tinder was first described to me as “Grindr for straight people.” I scoffed at the possibility of this, and suggested that they might as well have called it: “Raper.” Give my GPS coordinates to a city of men I don’t know—yeah, right. Tinder, however, is much more demure. Furthermore, women use this app; therefore, it’s always going to be used for dating more than anything else. Yes, I know, some women want casual sex too. I have no doubt that plenty of women are on there to have sex as quickly and efficiently as possible. But I hear far more stories about how so-and-so met her boyfriend on Tinder than I do anything else. As for myself, until last weekend, I had received far more messages on OkCupid reading just “Sex?!?!” than I had on Tinder. Frankly, I was starting to get a little offended—where the fuck were the Tinder perverts? Was I not good enough for them?
Getting pervy is a little tricky on Tinder since the app doesn’t allow you to send your newfound love interest any pictures directly—you have to exchange phone numbers for that. This technical drawback is what led to a very gracious and direct offer from a stranger this past Saturday night:
1:18 AM: Hey Mary Ann, how’s your weekend? Would you like to come over sometime and have your pussy licked? My apologies if I’m being too forward and you’re not looking to hook up, but that’s all I’m really looking for right now. It’s my favourite hobby, a true passion of mine lol
Needless to say, a few drinks in and in the company of some real jokers, I was laughing pretty hard at this. My pal Nathan convinced me to send an equally ridiculous response of “I love the 8=====0” and he was quick to respond:
2:26 AM: Hah who doesn’t. I mean I love mine, but probably not others. Blowjobs do look like fun though. I’ll do that to you. And I didn’t even offer my cock, yet anyway…I just like to pleasure. Wanna trade some naughty pics? My number is __________ if you’ll humour me and send a few. I’ll reciprocate of course.
So, I gave this horny guy my phone number and subsequently sent him a picture of a doorknob. I quickly got a pretty odd dick pic in return.
Need I explain that most women are not interested in dick pics, regardless of image quality or dick quality. I tried to confirm this with a party attendee and she of course informed me that she has a treasured collection of dick pics; however, she is just a fucking contrarian and an exception to the normally infallible dick pics rule. There’s a reason why you can’t share pictures directly on Tinder: MOST WOMEN DON’T WANT TO SEE A JPEG OF YOUR FLOPPY DICK, and do not find the penises of strangers inherently sexy. Moving on, however, I allowed Nathan to ask my Tinder pursuer “Dude, what’s wrong with your dick?” and he was not nearly as offended as he should have been:
3:03 AM: It curves to the left for her pleasure…I’ve never had that reaction though, hah. That’s real time, took it just for you. Still pretty large though, it’s popular. Can I get a peek at your pussy? I’ve never seen one I didn’t looove.
3:09 AM: No love, eh? You don’t have to look at it anyway if you don’t want. I just wanna lick you for a few hours. (A FEW HOURS!) Lemme know if you change your mind.
I replied with a picture of kitchen faucet, and also informed him that this conversation was getting to be a bit much. My friends (especially the straight males ones) were horrified and insisting that this Tinder fellow was sick and twisted, and that I should call the police.
3:26 AM: Hah ok, sorry for bothering you. I don’t get the random pics though, what’s the harm in showing a little anonymous bush?
I woke up with a bad hangover, feeling sleep-deprived and guilty about how I had led this guy on. After all, as I informed him in a message shortly thereafter, we met on Tinder. Normal social rules of etiquette do not apply. He was perfectly honest about what he was after, and I led him on for my own entertainment and entertainment of my friends. I apologized, and assured him that I was sure he would find a nice young lady he could satisfy to his heart’s delight.
12:04 PM: Aw thanks. I really appreciate the kind words. Best of luck to you. Cheers.
The very next week, from me:
2:10 AM: It’s so funny. Girl psychology = as soon as you backed down last week, I became more interested in you. But it’s still probably a bad idea that we talk cause you are looking for something 100% casual.
And his response:
2:59 AM: Hmm…You drive a tough bargain my love…Fine, 1 bad movie, 1 dinner at Swiss Chalet, 3 drinks, 4 doors held open, 1 coat over a puddle, and 2 kisses. 3:00 AM: And 3 orgasms 3:01 AM: Phones dying :( 3:01 AM: Gnight!
Yeah, orgasm promises from strangers… not only is the likelihood of this happening for me about as likely as Rob Ford’s sobriety—but it’s also disgusting and slightly terrifying. Still, he didn’t do anything morally wrong in my opinion, and that’s worth something! For now, I’ll stick to coffee and drink dates with this Tinder gizmo.