I asked guys on Tinder why they were on Tinder
I’m searching for my soulmate, of course
It was 2014. I had just gone through a breakup and my roommate convinced me Tinder was the best way to divert my attention from all that sadness and heartbreak. The best way to get over someone is to get attention from someone else, or something like that, right?
I’m a fairly passive user. I respond to nearly none of the ‘Sup?’ and wildly inappropriate pickup lines. Occasionally, I’ll entertain a compliment and then quickly ghost – online dating freaks me out, okay? – so, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that as someone with 500+ matches, I have met only two in real life.
Neither turned out to be Prince Charming.
The first I met in a coffee shop. After thirty minutes of tedious conversation about his dream career in finance, he informed me that he actually hated coffee and suggested a walk because he “didn’t want to have to pay for this expensive crap”. Desperate not to have to spend another minute discussing various investments he would like to make someday sans caffeine, I made up some excuse about needing to feed my nonexistent cats and bolted.
Yet, he still texts me sometimes.
The second I met at my favorite college bar. With my best friend in tow, we searched the crowded dance floor for an American flag bowtie – the only identifying information he gave – before finding him by the bar. We laid our eyes on what could best be described as a “fratty Ansel Elgort”. He was way overdressed for this type of bar on a Saturday night; and he seemed to be a pretty smooth talker. He bought a drink, we danced, and close to last call, he invited himself to the post-game.
But, for the next hour, my friends and I listened to him talk about rugby (he was the team captain!), his ankle injury (he was the best on the team, but he couldn’t play right now), and his workout regimen (he lifts!).
Rule of thumb: If he talks like a bro, looks like a bro, he’s probably a bro.
He never stopped talking; and interestingly enough, he never made a move. Well into the night, my friends and I remained the sounding board for his awesomeness. When asked if he wanted to find his friends, he insisted he hang with us – to which he continued to talk about himself for the next hour. When he finally left, he promised to keep in touch – but he never called. I like to think he’s out there doing big things in the rugby world.
We need answers.
Maybe these are bad examples. I’m sure there are Tinder success stories, right? Still, I felt that both of my failed encounters deserved a bit of reflection. I asked myself: what are twenty-something guys even looking for? Why bother with Tinder? What is their end-game?
To finally get some answers, I took to Tinder to ask the guys themselves. I asked 247 of my matches: “why are you on Tinder?” and, depending on their responses, I continued prodding them.
Answers were demanded. And, oh, did their answers did not disappoint.
Because casual sex with strangers and monogamous relationships go hand in hand, right?
I also prefer just going wherever the wind takes me.
Your sarcasm stings, buddy.
I told, y’all, it helps with the pain of a broken heart.
Why is the sky blue? Oh, I thought we were playing the question game.
Thanks for perpetuating the creepy Tinder stereotype, dude.
Good luck, pal.
What I learned from this experiment was that most guys aren’t really looking for anything – and if they are, they don’t know what they want.
We all just want someone to show us some attention, I think. Happy swiping, friends.
Related stories recommended by this writer:
● I used Ed Sheeran lyrics as chat up lines on Tinder
● I asked my Tinder matches to tell me the best and worst thing about my appearance
● I tried to seduce guys on Tinder by using a ‘food hack’ and it completely backfired