Okay, actually it was like two weeks, but I’m the Conductor of my own Story Train. So, TOOT TOOT! All aboard the Mia-Has-Too-Much-Social-Anxiety-To-Ever-Do-The-Online-and/or-App-Dating-Thing-Because-Meeting-Strangers-is-Terrifying Express.
- You can just be a person in the world who lists “Travelling Cunnilingist” on a dating app bio. There is a person in the world — specifically within 0 – 25 miles of my world — who had that as the entire contents of his bio.
But to be fair, my entire bio was just a pizza emoji. (DIDN’T I DO A GREAT JOB AT SEEMING ALOOF AND CHILL??????)
- This is truly a conclusive list of every photo you must have on a dating profile. It’s all true. I can’t tell you the amount of dogs and cats, moms and monuments, guys with girls they claim they aren’t dating and guys with children they adamantly specify they haven’t fathered I swiped through in mere 15 I mean 7 days.
- My racial ambiguity is an icebreaker that transcends every space, as evidenced by one of first messages I got:
- While I did not match with the guy whose hobbies and interests were exclusively “butt rubs and pizza,” I now have the title for my new mixtape.
- “I played a guy’s didgeridoo the night we met” is now a thing I can say, and it’s not even a euphemism. I played a literal didgeridoo, and I’m giving you no other information because that is how the didgeridoo was presented to me: suddenly and without context.
- You think you’ve seen it all, and then you see someone who’s used 2 of their 5 pictures to pay homage to their deceased mother with screenshotted Snapchat photos that read “RIP MOMMY” in red swipe-y lettering. So brb, gotta go add “future children must create mini-obituaries for me in any and all dating profiles” to my will.
Also, not swiping right for someone who has a virtual shrine to their mother leads to a guaranteed haunting, right? Double brb, gotta go see a priest about an exorcism and a producer about a plot for Paranormal Activity 7.
- My moment of clarity came when I was presented with a person who, at the end of a long “About Me” which listed his appreciation for standard interests like sports and travel and coffee and the like, ended his bio with, “I prefer the original definition of marriage.”
AND I STILL CLICKED THROUGH HIS PICTURES. Even after I expressed audible disgust at that closing statement about himself. His bio was like, “People of the Jury of Tinder Mia’s Brain: We all know what kind of person I am, or at the very least, what kind of person I want to present myself as. We all know this will go nowhere given my loudly passive aggressive stance against marriage equality. Or perhaps by “original definition of marriage” I mean the one in which a woman is viewed as the property of a man. Or maybe the one where you give a guy a goat and are then entitled to all his daughters or something like that. Whatever the case may be, all parties present know this would never work out.
Buuut, like, you should probably just check my pics to see if I have any where I’m not wearing a hat or you can see my face from a different angle.”
WHAT. WHY. TINDER MIA, NO.
If you have Tinder stories, I want to know because I’m nosy and something something misery company. I guess my experience with Tinder wasn’t that miserable. You could even say I learned something about myself.
It’s that I’m a natural at the didgeridoo.
(Screen fades to black, and we hear a quiet, almost inaudible whisper, “Nobody swipes left on my son.”)