It is no secret that I am absolutely terrible with the male gender.
Cheese spills out of my mouth when I talk to them, I don't recognize them when I see them, I touch their hair while asking them on a date, I ask them to go get my feminine hygiene products, the ones who hit on me are generally 6 years younger than me, I get paired up with a married one for my swim class and he has to hold my legs while I kick and it's awkward for everyone involved. . .
For those of you unfamiliar with the ways of Tinder, I will get a brief explanation.
Tinder is a dating app. It shows only your first name, 6 pictures of your choosing, and a brief bio. You then go through the gender of your choosing and look at their pictures and brief bio. From this, you can either swipe right, meaning "like" (like you're attracted to them) or left, meaning "nope." When you "like" a persons picture who "liked" your picture, you get a notification, and you two can start chatting over said app.
Tinder has been the butt end of my jokes for well over a year now, making fun of it and saying how creepy it is.
And then one day late at night, I found myself watching the 30 Rock episode where (spoiler) Liz Lemon FINALLY gets married to the perfect guy after she has been dating a bunch of losers and weirdos. My little heart swelled as I related to Liz Lemon on a number of levels, hoping that one day I too, could find my Criss Cross (her husbands name).
I was also on Facebook: the holy land of vulnerability and feeling bad about your life. And naturally, I ran across my three friends who had met their current spouses on Tinder.
I looked from the computer, to my phone, and back to the computer.
"What the heck," I said, while I closed my laptop. "This would make a great story for my blog, and if I just so happen to fall in love while I'm at it, so be it."
I created my tinder account,
and I let the 76th annual hunger games BEGIN!
I began my journey in the arena by swiping left (or "nope") on EVERYONE.
He has a beard? Nope.
He's clean shaven? Nope.
Black hair? Nope.
African American? Nope.
Any other race I haven't already mentioned? Nope.
And then there were the classic pictures like this that I quickly swiped left on:
This was when I began to question if I've been single for so long because I have too high of standards.
"Okay," I said to myself. "You can't be THAT picky."
So I began to study the profiles more than just the initial picture and began to swipe right on a few.
Within minutes I had "matches."
And that's when the 76th annual hunger games REALLY began to pick up speed.
Minutes after my first match, I received this message:
WHAT DO I DO? WHAT DO I SAY? IS THIS GUY A RAPIST?
Oh hello, Mrs. Worse Case Scenario Carmen I was wondering when you'd come.
Now this is when I began to wonder if I've been single for so long because I'm afraid of commitment.
Instead of accusing him of various crimes, I said thank you, and asked which picture was his favorite.
He told me it was a tie between these two:
I said thanks, he responded with a message that was filled with so many spelling errors I developed a twitch in my left eye, and I promptly didn't respond.
I kept swiping, and probably swiped one right for every ten lefts.
And the matches kept on coming, along with the conversation starters.
Then there was this little guy:
"So how would you describe yourself in twenty words or less?" I asked him.
His response was as follows:
-Plays the piano
-Not a return missionary
-Has had a pet cat for the last 10 years
-Likes the outdoors.
Guess which one of these was the biggest turn off for me.
Take a look:
I hate cats so much, guys. HATE THEM. I'm so allergic my throat closes up when I'm around them. My death will NOT be from cat hair.
The conversation died off quickly once again. This time I was as boring as possible and gave only one word answers until he stopped messaging me.
And then there were guys like these, who I really just wanted to mess with for no particular reason:
And then those guys who looked pretty funny so I swiped right cause I liked their bio or picture:
And then there was contestant number three. This guy was really interesting.
He sent me this message:
Okay, okay. I can work with that. I can get a date out of that. I'll do my best to seduce him over tinder to get a date and a good story out of this surprisingly stressful experience.
So this was my response:
"Thanks! I get that compliment a lot from hobos, so it's nice coming from you!"
Smooth, Carmen. Smooth.
We kept talking and got on the subject of religion. He asked me if I was Mormon. I said yes, and asked him if he was. He said he used to be, but not anymore.
We then proceeded to have a good little chit chat about the gospel. Nothing hostile; just asking each others opinions on things.
Then things took a bad turn and got weird and ugly. He asked why I wanted to get married in the temple. When I responded, he retaliated with some . . . well it wasn't exactly anti Mormon material. It was just a very insulting response telling me I'm wrong.
And THAT'S when I got annoyed.
I don't CARE if you don't believe in the same things I do. I love to talk about my faith, and really any religion. And the second you say "nope sorry EVERYTHING you believe and have faith in is wrong"? Nope. Gone. Sorry.
So after this long message of things I didn't agree with and feeling attacked for my own beliefs, I didn't respond. He sent an apology message saying he knew he came off too insensitive and reassured me he wasn't like that in real life. He asked how my day was and then -
Did I? HA. Nope. No I did not.
Yet he had just told me how he hated getting rejected by Mormon girls because he was a good guy, but because he wasn't active they wouldn't give him the time of day. (Gee, buddy. Think it had anything to do with what you just said to me?!) So I didn't want to say no cause then I'd be one of those girls he just complained about . . . and at the same time he had just insulted my faith.
My friend came up with the perfect solution. I sent him a list of rules to follow for a tinder date. There's no way he'll agree to these!
(Looking back now I realize how easy these rules are to follow. Man.)
Now I go into annoyance mode because A) I'm on Tinder and B) he keeps messaging me various things like:
Him: So do you go on a lot of dates? I bet you do. Mormon girls always go on a lot of dates.
*sidenote: I hate this stereotype. It is false. And my lack of a dating life is a touchy subject for me.
Me: Wait are you serious?? No I don't! I'm more single than a nun!
Him: I have a hard time believing that someone as pretty as you has a hard time dating.
I don't know how I managed, but somehow I refrained from sending him an eye-roll emoticon.
Getting annoyed with life, I logged off of tinder and pulled up my BYU school account to check on which assignments were due.
"Blerg," I muttered to myself as I saw I had another paper due that I had forgotten about. I read over the description and saw that I basically had to conduct some sort of experiment to see the difference between how men and women are treated differently in some sort of setting.
I can put even MORE purpose into this Tinder use.
Ladies and gentleman, let me introduce you to my new friend Kyle:
I found Kyle by clicking on a friends Facebook profile, and then clicking a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend until I discovered his personal Facebook account. He lives in Canada. I had access to three pictures of him; just enough to make a Tinder account.
That's right, my friends. I set up a second tinder account using . . . Canadian Kyle's information.
And yes, his name actually IS Kyle. He doesn't go by Canadian Kyle. Though he is from Canada.
THIS, my friends, is the modern day version of identity theft.
So I set up a tinder account for my dear friend Canadian Kyle and began to swipe right on EVERYONE. Within minutes I found out that there is a limited amount of swipes you can do in a day, and I exceeded all of them.
Meanwhile, I started thinking about my ice cream date and how unexcited I was for it. How did I get myself wrapped up into this? WHY did I agree to it in the first place? I already knew I hated going on dates with someone I don't actually have a connection or background with you know? So add someone who doesn't like my beliefs and disrespects them?
What. Had I done.
So I logged onto my Tinder account, ready to tell him what was up when I saw him say:
Him: I probably should say this, but I'm SO excited for this date!
Me: Me too!
WHAT? NO I WASN'T! Time to abort this mission. I just needed to delete my account.
Him: You seem really cool and fun to be with, Carmen. And you're really pretty.
Yeah, buddy. I'm sure you got that all from a small amount of texts and a few pictures.
Me: Thanks you seem cool too!
Is it not possible for me to be mean?! I had been mean before! Why couldn't I be now?!
And then he sent me . . . . a text talking about how he had recently broken up with his girlfriend and had only gone on a few dates since.
Guilt trip one more time. Ain't I a terrible human? Now I KNEW I couldn't delete my profile. I would break his heart! I would cause him to go into a depression! I would be the cause of anything bad that will happen to him and has already happened to him, just because I stood him up on a date by deleting my account!
Oh, wow, Mrs. Worst Case Scenario Carmen. You're coming out in full force.
Why is Worst Case Scenario Carmen a Mrs?
This is when I realized it was almost one o clock in the morning.
Logging off, I crashed almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. And when I woke up in the morning, Mrs. Worst Case Scenario was gone and was telling me to buck up and do what I want.
And so I deleted my tinder account, and this stressful situation lifted from my shoulders. I was done.
. . . or so I thought.
Originally, this was the end of the story. I tied it up by saying how I knew Tinder wasn't for me, summed up Kyle's story, blah blah blah. I pushed save, preview, it was done.
. . . or so I thought.
The next morning I woke up with a message on my phone from my sister saying she was cracking up on my Tinder blog.
A little confused, I checked my blog and realized I had unintentionally published it. I shrugged it off thinking, "Eh. Well. They'll read it sometime. I'll just post it on Facebook next week. No one will see it beforehand. "
. . . or so I thought it would be.
Later at day I was at work when I got a Facebook notification saying that I had a friend request from
. . .
Contestant number 3. The guy I had, in a round about way, "stood up" on the date, so to say.
Not gonna lie. I was weirded out. STRAIGHT UP WEIRDED OUT. How did he find me?!
A few hours later, I saw that I had received a private message from him over Facebook.
I kept glancing at my phone on and off for about an hour and half. Finally after I finished the project I was working on, I picked up my phone and read the message.
Turned out he googled my name.
And what did he stumble upon?
This blog, to be specific.
Oh, and yes. Yes, this blog - you know, the one you're reading right now? - was published.
And yes. He wasn't very happy about it.
And yes. I was embarrassed and filed with much guilt and shame and a dash of humor. Like seriously. Out of ANYONE this WOULD happen to me.
And so, about two hours later I found myself in a pizza parlor after work with one of my best friends. Still filled with embarrassment over what had happened, I ate my lactose free pizza and said, "Well, I mean, I'm going into journalism. I was gonna get some bad reviews sometime in my life. I guess I got the first one over with fast?"
I shoved another piece of pizza in my mouth then paused as a beautiful realization dawned upon me.
"Wait. Hold up. This is just another twist to the plot. I CAN ADD THIS TO THE BLOG!"
"Hey. You gotta point there."
"Really though, I couldn't have made up an ending like this on my own. Thank you for providing this miraculous surprise ending!"
And that was the end
. . . or so I thought
The next day I logged back onto Facebook to see:
At this point, I literally threw my hands up and said, "Are you kidding me? Are you KIDDING me?! How do they keep finding me?!"
I didn't bother responding. My impression with this sweet, little fella' was that he had great intentions . . . and terrible execution. He had no idea that this wasn't the first time I had a Prince Tinder Facebook stalk me, and I wasn't gonna chew him out for it.
So, I did what I do best.
I ran away from my problem.
And that was the end.
. . . or so I thought.
No actually, it kind of was. Kind of. One week and two friend requests from my dear not-so-secret admirer later, he was blocked.
And THAT was the end.
Look at me. Breakin' hearts like nobody's business.
It's been a full week and I haven't had anymore Tinder mishaps. I'd like to say the storm has passed, but who knows what tomorrow will bring with my sweet, awkward, wonderful, uncomfortable, unexpected life.
Overall I'm grateful for this experience. I have scratched off another possibility of where my Prince Charming could be. My options are slowly narrowing as I watch great guy after great guy get married, and I meet creeper after creeper.
And that's okay, because I know I'll find him someday. And so long as I keep getting these hilarious stories out of my single/dating life? I'm a happy camper most of the time!
Have an awkward day everyone :)