Climax Online’s very own Alice Weekes gives dating app Tinder another go…

On many levels I don’t really suit the Carrie Bradshaw role. I always opt for Carling over Cosmo’s, football over fashion and if I have to wear high heels they’re more likely to have come from Matalan than Manolo Blahnik. However my recent dabbles with mobile dating app Tinder have seen me gain quite the understanding for the Sex And The City star.

Having nervously dipped my toe into the waters of date-blogging with my previous offering,‘Tinder Surprise’, I had always intended it to be a one-off. However, following my last submission, I foolishly trundled on with the dating app and a number of events ensued that, if left untold, frankly could be considered an insult to the literary world. So I’ve returned.

Just to refresh, my initial Tinder experience was quite enjoyable and I encouraged readers to try their luck on this revolutionary dating app… read here for a recap.

Now let us continue on our metaphorical stroll through the forest of my dating despair. Ironically, I haven’t actually been on any dates since the ones I wrote about in my last blog. Why? Tinder has switched roles from temptress to… well, royal piss-taker.

So sit back, relax and for god’s sake, delete Tinder NOW WHILST YOU HAVE THE CHANCE.

Chapter One: Sloppy Seconds

Following the swift snuffing out of Tinder Flame 1, I have decided to shake off the drama and get back in the game. I’m quickly matched with a nice looking girl – let’s call her Potential Tinder Flame 2, for confidentiality purposes.

Conversation ensues and mere words into the exchange, Potential Tinder Flame 2 informs me that she is sure she recognises me from somewhere. Perhaps we had gone to the same University or shared a mutual friend, I foolishly think to myself, failing to appreciate that Tinder works in far darker ways than to create such a predictable connection.

It doesn’t take the two of us long to figure out why she knows my face. Potential Tinder Flame 2 just so happens to be the ‘straight’ best friend of Tinder Flame 1 and she soon confirms that she has indeed been given the d-low on our fleeting fling.

Suffice to say she isn’t too keen for sloppy seconds. Potential Tinder Flame 2 burnt out in record time.

Chapter Two: Trust Your Instincts

During the next part of this story you will feel a strong urge to judge me but I would ask you to remember that it was Tinder, not I, who created the rules of this debased game.

If you paid attention to my previous blog you will have learnt do’s and don’ts of Tinder Etiquette. Unfortunately, many users have yet to cotton on as the app produces snogs, selfies and group photos galore.

Our next Tinder-protagonist is a serial etiquette-offender, whose only offering to her potential matches is a single photo that simultaneously breaks sections 2 and 6 of the etiquette guidelines:

#2.  The ‘Look How Many Friends I Have’ Group Photo

#6. The Hot Friend Photo (All three mates comparatively look like Amber Heard, which, in my book is very good.)

I decide to go against my instincts and hedge my bets, knowing full well how this is going to end. Alas, I optimistically swipe to the right, buoyed by a confidence that the odds are in my favour – I basically have a 3 in 4 chance of landing Ms Heard.

And it’s a match! But with which one out of the four?

Well, of course. That’s right, readers; I have become the victim of Tinder Fraud.

What I didn’t anticipate, though, was the rather harrowing monologue that follows from our Tinder Fraudster, who responds to my tender opening question of ‘Which one are you?!’, with, ‘Arrrrgh people always ask me that 🙁.

I kindly remind our Fraudster that this is, rightly or wrongly, the very premise of Tinder. Not satisfied with my response, the Fraudster rallies on, feeling the need to inform me that her friends in the chosen photo are ‘much prettier’ than she is. In real life I may have taken steps to comfort this individual with mistruths, but this ain’t real life. This is Tinder, and on Tinder everyone is fair game. Unmoved and mildly irritated by such unrelenting self-deprecation, I feel it best to leave this Fraudster to her own devices (I block her). Another Tinder tale is hastily wrapped up.

Chapter Three: Square One

By this point I’ve grown tired of the incessant swiping and find myself becoming more callous with every flick to the left. Tinder is supposed to be a fun and light-hearted game, not a life lesson on moral preservation.

Enough is enough. I firmly hold my thumb down on the screen of my iPhone until that bastard little app starts shaking. Tinder is about to be removed from my life forever and I come so close to pressing the ‘X’ that I can almost taste liberation (probably just fresh air), when…. Just one more roll of the Tinder dice, I think. Like the addict I had become, I convince myself things will be different this time.

Tinder app

They aren’t.

As if the Tinder Gods are conspiring against me, or at the very best, telling me to get a life and try real-world interaction for a change, the amorous-app has saved it’s best card for last.

I am presented with the unmistakable face of my ex-girlfriend.

I have to hand it to Tinder. It is a classic move that I never saw coming. Apparently I have exhausted the supply of Tinder Potentials and am back to square one.

That evening, in true Bradshaw manner, I couldn’t help but wonder, if maybe I’m just not cut-out for the world of app-dating. I find it bloody exhausting and that’s before I’ve even left the house.

It’s all yours, Bradshaw. I’m off for a new, app-less adventure in the real world.



Text: Alice Weekes