The real problem with dating apps: some thoughts on Tinder & Co.
I broke up with my boyfriend a couple of months ago. I’m slowly recovering and probably I’m writing this article as part of the journey. Friends and family have been key in this period. Their love and support was fundamental as this whole thing happened when I was moving to Switzerland for a new job. Some of these friends (and I must say they were all male) suggested me to create an account on Tinder to “speed up the recovering process and have some fun”.
Photo by Yogas Design
Being on Tinder was something I had never considered before. It has always been so out of my reality that I never considered it as possible. Like one of these admirable things that some brave people do and that one day I might do as well. Like volunteering in Africa, skiing, going to X-Factor, eating carbs on Mondays and walking bare-foot in public toilets. It was only when my male (and I stress male) friends told me to create a Tinder account that reality hit me with an epiphany. Gosh, I can actually be on Tinder! Of course, pondering the possibility of creating a Tinder account triggered some thoughts and considerations. More precisely, it triggered a specific feeling: repellent.
Photo by Eaters Collective
Wait a minute: repellent? This reaction caught me by surprise, even more than the realisation that I could actually be on Tinder. But why repellent? I started going a bit deeper and investigated what was that triggered “repellent”. To find this out, I asked myself possible reasons for that, payed attention at the reaction in my body to see if they felt right or wrong and the articulated on them. Since I’m a scientist (or a frustrated twenty-something girl with OCD and a sexless life, you pick) this is the chain of hypothesis-thesis-antithesis I used to answer my question. Thanks to Galileo Galiei for sponsoring this blog post by the way!
Am I a prude?
It’s a plausible question given that I was born in a Catholic country and I was taught to give meaning to intimacy. However, I don’t think I have anything against going out and about looking for sex. Casual and, possibly, emotionally detached sex is not what bothers me about Tinder. On the contrary, everybody knows what it means to feel “on the same wavelength" with random people and how natural it is to desire to have sex with that person. Tinder is just a platform facilitating our search for eroticism and connection. So, no I honestly don’t think I dislike Tinder because I’m a prude. Next!
Photo by Miguel Bruna
Am I a feminist/body-positivist?
Tinder might be seen as another way for women to be selected solely by their appearance and not by their personality and intelligence and, thus, as a perpetuator of women’s objectification. Also, one of the mainstream adage of the body positivity movement claims that “all bodies are beautiful, they aren’t a measure of women’s worth and true beauty comes from within”. I agree with that and I consider myself a feminist as I believe men and women should all have equal opportunities. However, I also know that sexual attraction isn’t politically correct. If it’s true that men and women choose their partners according to different criteria, then there’s nobody to be blamed here. I’m not sure about what’s going on inside men’s brain (and I really don’t want to know!). But if what us women identify as “objectification” corresponds in men’s words to “I’m attracted to you and you’re beautiful and attractive and that’s why I’m attracted to you” (I mean, should I expect more than a tautology from a male brain?), then please please, you men out there, swipe to the damn direction that corresponds to a yes (I told you I don’t have Tinder!) and objectify me every single day of the week!
Photo by Wyron A
Am I a nostalgic epicurean?
Yes, finally this does feel right to me! I finally found the reason behind my “repellent” reaction for Tinder. It’s the same reason why I’m mad at Netflix, Spotify, and Audible and all the others Cloud-based entertainment services. I’m not subscribed to any of the above because I fear that they would steal from me the pleasure of having something to look forward to. I remember the excitement I had waiting for the new episode of my favourite TV series for an entire week. And I remember how great it felt to watch that only episode after seven days waiting for it. And I remember how I would wake up the next morning still thinking about it, ready to wait for more seven days. Same things with songs at the radio and books at the bookstore. I’m afraid that having access to infinite amount of TV series, movies, songs and books would undermine the value of the individual episode, movie, song or book. I still want them to spark joy and not to numb me. The same thing holds true with Tinder. I’m afraid I won’t value the date enough to be excited about it before, to enjoy it and to still be thinking about it afterwards. And I’m afraid I would be, instead, constantly projected towards the next guy and the next date and the next one again and not on the present moment. Cause you’re one swipe away from the next best thing!
Photo by Sara Kurfess
Uh-uh I made it! I managed to understand why I felt repellent towards Tinder. It’s because I’m a nostalgic epicurean, how cool is that? Going deep and understanding more about myself always makes me feel so proud because I have one more thing I can label myself with. If I’ll ever create a Tinder account, I’ll be able to write “nostalgic epicurean” after “breaking thirty, computer scientist, OCD, Nutella eater, Type A, Gilmore Girls lover” in the description!
Tell me more about your subscription: do you have Netflix, Spotify or Audible? And what about Tinder? I want to hear it all. If you want more of this type of blog posts, please subscribe to the Breaking Thirty Newsletter to be notified whenever a new one will be published.