{Hi all! I hope you enjoy this post by Christine OBrien while I’m away. Christine is an editor of What Would Kate Do? and The Refined Side. She is also a founding member of The Glosse Posse. When she isn’t writing, she is plotting “meet cutes” at her local Starbucks, hoping to accidentally pick up the wrong drink from the right guy. You can find her on Twitter and on Instagram.}
When my phone lit up with a strange new number, I was surprised to receive a call from Mike*. We had met through my parents a few weeks earlier, and after some not-so-subtle work on my part, he finally took a hint and called me. We chatted for a few minutes, and he said, “Can I take you out on Thursday?” Except for a few small texts here and there, he always called me on the telephone to talk. I love this about him, but I realized this wasn’t really a winning characteristic. Shouldn’t all guys call me? Shouldn’t relationships exist outside of text messages and Facebook pokes?
It is 2013, and we live in a technological age. Everything is run by technology. In fact, we aren’t even plugged in anymore. We are beyond that – our internet is wireless and our devices charge without a plug. Our relationships are being affected by this more than anything. Before a first date, you already know everything there is to know about a guy – mostly because you’ve been texting non-stop for a week. After the first date, as soon as that front door closes your phone dings. He might have abided by the “three day rule” before the initial text, but after that it was all instantaneous.
Enter Tinder, the latest craze on the app market. Tinder is an online dating application for smartphones. With a connection to Facebook, Tinder uploads a few pictures of you and you get to “playing.” Your “profile” on Tinder is as basic as it gets. You can upload 1-5 pictures, although three are automatically added from Facebook. From there, others can see your age (which you cannot hide, fake, or lie about – I tried) and any shared interests you may have; basically, the things you “like” on Facebook.
It is marketed as a game, as if we don’t struggle enough with the dating game. You “yes” or “nope” men solely based on their pictures – their physical appearance. If the same guy likes you, you’re matched up. Then you can chat on an online messaging component within the app. If all goes well, you could meet up in real life. And live happily ever after. And tell your kids about how you met on Tinder.
THE GAME
According to the Tinder website, the program is “designed to be familiar and emulate the way we interact in real life—digitally reproduced, enhanced, and made mobile.” This is the initial flaw – I don’t know anyone who meets a man like this. There is no vulnerability or risk. When that cute guy winks at you at Starbucks, and you go out to talk to him, there’s that awful chance that he really got something in his eye and this is the most awkward moment of your life. Or, he really winked at you, and you exchange numbers.
The second flaw are the users themselves. Prince Harry and Ryan Gosling (y’know, our dream men) would never be caught dead on this app.
The users all fall into one of the following categories:
- I am desperate and lonely
- My friends made me do this
- Booty call
This is represented by the photos they choose. These also fall into categories:
- Selfies
- Group shot with fraternity brothers
- Forced pose at awkward social event
- Girlfriend
Once I learned the rules, I started to play the game.
The first night, I “no”-ed so many people that it actually gave up on me. I got a notice that there was no one else in my area and I was doomed to be alone. I revised my requirements and played again.
THE RESULTS
I played the game and initially found 20 matches in 24 hours. To conduct my research, I compiled 30 matches for statistical purposes. They all lived within 20 miles of me and their ages ranged from 23-30. All the men were someone I might potential like in real life – handsome, athletic and somewhat dignified in photographs. From there, the game really started, and the results were enlightening.
The majority of men “yes”-ing me occurred while I was asleep, between 11PM and 8AM. This leads me to believe that the matches were made late at night, while the men were sad, lonely, or drunk. Most of my yes”-ing occurred between 10PM-11PM and 8AM-9AM. I would wake up, and almost every person I “yes”-ed had already “yes”-ed me, indicated by an immediate match.
Of the matches I made, only one person messaged me right away. The others waited a few hours or days, while the majority never messaged me. Only 23% of my matches messaged me at all, while only one of those messages turned into an interesting conversation. I messaged one person – I was intrigued by a picture of him and wanted to ask about it – and that grew into a conversation, perhaps the most successful of them all. Of the messages I received, 63% sent some awkward variation of “hey what’s up”, which makes for a difficult response and discussion. Notably, one of my suitors called me “bitchy” after only a few messages.
With this sampling, only 6% of the match ups might have lead to a real-life relationship – meaning they asked to meet up outside of Tinder. None of those matches were actually of interest to me, showing neither interesting conversation or impressive profiles.
Overall, Tinder seems wildly unsuccessful. With only 6% of match ups extending outside of the app, you have to wonder how many matches you have to make before one sticks. The only match I actually liked was the one I made myself, and even that exists only on my iPhone. It would seem nearly impossible to find Prince Charming (or Prince Harry, or Ryan Gosling) on Tinder, instead finding only the drunk, horny, lonely, and Lord Bacon.