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I Tried to Scam Free Shit Out of Danish Guys on Tinder

And discovered my own humanity.

In this day and age of virtual romance, the expectations around dating someone you meet online are rather dismal, to put it lightly. Even if you Instragram-filter your way to an actual date, you're well aware you won't be courted the way generations before you were – say, with a homecooked meal or a bouquet of flowers. These days, the most you can really bank on from the beau you discovered through your phone is getting away with not paying for any of your drinks, and hopefully getting laid at the end of the charade.

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However, perhaps there's still hope for a renaissance in chivalry within the realms of digitally-regulated love. Perhaps wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am really can come with a side of a steak dinner, or lavish accessories, for that matter. With that in mind, I took it upon myself to find out if that's the case — as in, I spent a week trying to get as much free shit as I could out of Tinder.

The author trying to score a new duvet

I began by putting my morals and taste on hold, blindly swiping right to anyone who came my way. Sure enough, I quickly gathered a diverse assortment of hopeful lads to carry out my little experiment on. Best part is, I barely even needed to try: within the first five minutes, a keen bloke struck up a conversation.

Sebastian was 21 and had the kind of profile that could easily double as a PG-rated flyer for sending your fresh-faced high school graduate kid on an "independent year abroad". His eyes glimmered in the way one's eyes shine right up to the moment they experience their first heartbreak. Sebastian was innocent — and therefore perfect fodder for this week's method of entertaining myself.

Being the cautious creature that I am, I eased myself into the process of trying to scam guys for free shit by setting myself a safe goal: getting someone to take me for a fancy dinner in the most blatant possible fashion. Adhering to that mission, my conversation with Sebastian went a little something like this:

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I wasn't yet committed enough to promise this confident young man anything more than my fully clothed company in return for dropping quite the dime on a bloody chunk of meat at MASH. In effect, I reduced my correspondence to robotically insisting on steak or nil.

Much to my annoyance, my heart strings started tugging a little too much as Sebastian proceeded to politely suggest normal activities for us to do together. I felt wicked, as I was essentially robbing him of the lion's share of his student budget. Sebastian wasn't a dick to me, even though I was being a massive one to him and I just couldn't go through with it. If things kept going at this rate, I knew I wouldn't have the balls to sweet talk my way into getting free stuff.

Luckily, the next guy, Kasper, wasn't on a student budget and was instantly down to feed me:

I made plans with Kasper to meet him for dinner at a place he suggested. Disappointingly, his choice wasn't as comically awful as I had hoped, as he wanted to meet up at Halifax. I felt my momentum fading: if this guy wasn't taking me to Hot Buns or some establishment equally horrid, maybe he wasn't actually the sex-crazed goon I made him out to be. Worse, Kasper proceeded to do decent, human things, like ask me how my day was and express interest in my line of work (I said puppeteering, because why not go all out). Once again, I abandoned ship and cancelled my plans with him.

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By now, I had seriously begun to worry I wouldn't have what it takes to actually scam someone while deeply gazing into their eyes across a dinner table. So I upped the stakes and set myself a goal so outlandish, it would take a true moron whose stupidity deserves no pity to actually fall for it. I logged onto a local boutique's online shop and looked for the dumbest example of extravagance I could find. Lo and behold, the perfect thing appeared before me: a pair of bedazzled gold and black gloves, retailing for the bargain price of €235. Bingo. I would test my next suitor's worthiness by requesting this absurd accessory.

The gloves in question. Via

Remarkably, I actually came about 85% of the way into convincing this guy to buy me my luxury item of choice until he finally noticed the price point. Understandably, that part didn't go over so well. Still, at the very distant possibility of human contact, and even more distant possibility of sex, this guy was willing to buy some chick he didn't know shit she wanted, just because she asked him — all in response to a few half-heartedly flirtatious messages. Worse yet, he's definitely not the only one aimlessly wandering around the minefield of Tinder willing to bid adieu to his self-respect for sex. At what point would these men draw the line — at €50? €150? How much money and dignity is too much to invest into the potential of having sex, no matter how minimal or unrealistic that potential may be?

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​I simply couldn't go through with it: reducing these men to walking, talking (s)cumbags was an impossible task in the face their obvious loneliness, insecurity and all-too-relatable need to have someone to talk to - even if it was just a stranger on Tinder.

Because after all, isn't that why many of us venture into the world of online dating, anyway? Sure, some people venture onto Tinder for easy sex. Kudos to them  – really – but personally, I've never encountered anyone on Tinder who's had sex as their only goal. I've gone on Tinder dates refreshingly free of the unspoken subtext to sleep together at the end. I've made friends on Tinder. Hell, I nearly fell in love with someone I met on Tinder and dated for a few months. It's easy to write it off as a place infested with penises masquerading as people, but that just isn't true. Tinder is our collective, confused attempt at figuring out how on earth we're meant to manage connecting with other humans. So whether you're a dude trying to get laid or a girl trying to scam free shit, you're on Tinder for more or less the same reason: it's where you fumble around blindly and hope you'll stumble upon someone who's simply there for you — a fleeting, bittersweet experience of clarity in an increasingly opaque and incomprehensible world.

Editor's note: names have been changed.