I admit it: I’ve never been the bubbly type. To be honest, I think my resting bitch face scares people. But what I’m thinking, and what my face expresses, are often quite opposite. So to counteract my social hindrances, and as a final attempt to score some male affection, I’ve turned to Tinder. Because I broke up with my boyfriend and came to college single, I decided to download the app and see what happened. I understand that meeting strangers with an online dating app is somewhat terrifying and unnatural; but let’s be real– it’s the only way to find modern-day romance.
So, I decided to meet a boy from MIT after talking to him over Tinder. I didn’t really know what to expect, but I was excited to see where the night could lead. Unfortunately, as I turned onto his street, my phone decided to die, even though I had over fifty percent charge. My first thoughts were that without my phone, things could become dangerous– what if he turned out to be a jerk? What if I got kidnapped… or worse? How would I be able to get help? Was this the universe helping me to dodge a bullet, or was it giving me the middle finger? I was so close to meeting him, yet I was so far away. The irony of my phone deciding to die near MIT, as I was on his street, was too real to be accidental. I contemplated my options, but concluded that meeting a stranger when my phone was dead was not the best idea. So I went home and went to bed.
After a couple of other Tinder experiences, I now struggle with wanting to be satisfied, and wanting to have a relationship. I take relationship advice from just about anyone, or anything. I’d even take advice from a fortune cookie or the back of a cereal box, because I’m constantly trying to understand why boys don’t talk to me. I mean, I’m above average and I think my 347 matches on Tinder would think the same. Yet my inability to meet the right boy persists.
In the romantic comedy Wedding Date, Dermot Mulroney states, “we accept the love we think we deserve.” I’m not sure if I agree with this, because I’m not purposefully trying to push love away. On the one hand, I do want a relationship, but on the other hand, I’m not looking for a someone to marry — after all, I’m only nineteen.
I went to a party last weekend and talked to a lot of boys; I even danced with a boy for the first time in a long time, but I have no idea what he looked like, so I don’t think that counts. I had a couple of drinks, I was socializing well, and the bitch face disappeared; yet I got zero phone numbers and I even lost my ID. The next day I went back to the party to pick it up. It was like doing the walk of shame, but without the sex. Luckily I brought some girlfriends with me, so I wouldn’t feel as bad. I’m actually glad I went back because the boy that opened the door was mighty fine. in fact, as he opened the door, my friends and I were struck by how gorgeous this Harvard boy was. After he gave me my ID, we all just kind of stared at him… until he shut the door. It was typical– just like my other attempts at finding the right boy to date, once again the door was shut in my face.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the male species is very enigmatic and unpredictable. But although the road may be long and winding, and although so far my efforts have not been successful, I know that there are many more weekends, and many adventures ahead. And despite my disappointment with Tinder so far, I have no intention of giving up.