Tinder is my JAM!

It is no secret that I like Tinder.
Yeah, yeah... it is known for being a hook up site, but Match.com, OKCupid, and a bar on Friday night could all be accused of the same thing. In my view, it is the online dating system that comes closet to mimicking the true experience of dating in the real world. And here is why.

Are you ready to have your mind blown?
Tinder is based solely on the ancient technology of  proximity and mutual selection.

If those two variables were good enough for Chuck and Chatty Kathy, they are good enough for me.

Charles and Kathy (my parents) didn't sit down and fill out a questionnaire in order to determine if they were compatible. My Dad saw my Mom jump hurtles at track practice and thought "She's cute. I'll ask her out."

BOOM.
Proximity and mutual selection for the win. And forty-two years later, they are still the most happily married people I have ever encountered. Of course there are all those things that make up a happy life together like love, commitment, partnership, support, vacations, promotions, raising a child that was nothing short of a constant delight, paying for college for said delight, building houses, playing golf, picking out plants for the garden, etc.. but in the beginning it was as simple as, "You're cute and you said yes."

And that is basically how Tinder works, instead of calling the girl from track practice at number M9 on the party line, you swipe right because you think the person is cute and the reason they even show up on your Tinder account is because they live within your distance settings.

You don't know how many siblings they have, what they do for work, or where they grew up until you talk to them. You don't know they like to surf, or hate playing paintball, or have a best friend named Jeff who is always their wedding date. For all you know, they are a dog person and you prefer cats, but you end up going on a date anyway because you both love the Sopranos and think the Duke basketball team should be abolished. And guess what, that dog vs. cat issue, it ended up not being such a big deal.

For me, Tinder puts some of the mystery back in online dating that all the other sites pride themselves on eliminating. For some people, getting rid of the mystery is great and finding someone who checks off all these innocuous boxes is exactly what they want. They only want to date dog people, because cat people are obviously terrible. They only want to be in a relationship with someone who wants those traditional gender roles filled, because, hey, a man can't be expected to make his own sandwich in 2014 and heaven forbid a woman dane to have a job outside the home. They only want to date other Methodists, vegetarians, surfers, or yogis.

And that is fine. Perfectly fine.

This is why Tinder is not their jam.

I use online dating to meet people I probably wouldn't because I work long hours, most of my friends are coupled up, and I go places like the yoga studio where it is mostly other women, and I struggle to pick up guys at the driving range because most of them don't like to date a girl they know can beat them at golf. I prefer to let that be a nice surprise later. On Tinder, I know next to nothing about these people other than their age and the fact that they are within 50 miles of where I'm standing at any given moment. And they know next to nothing about me except that I like bourbon and tacos and dancing on boardwalks.

Furthermore, I love that Tinder protects my feelings like the world's best wing-(wo)man. Earlier this week I was completely miffed after two, TWO, different guys sent me questions, and after I responded they hid their profiles from me. That is the really, really great thing about eHarmony, you can see who has hidden your profile. And the message eHarmony sends that says "But this is great news that Mr. GuyWithDog hid from you, because that means you are closer to finding Mr. GuyWithCat." is really very comforting. (That was sarcasm in case it didn't come across in print).

As if it isn't bad enough that they don't send the follow up email to take things to the next communication level, they hide from you.
I had an ex hide from me in Best Buy once.
That made me feel terrible then and this makes me terrible now.

I find myself thinking, There must really be something wrong with me that my answers to 5 little questions encouraged someone to hide their profile from me so I couldn't contact them. Did they not like my response to the gender roles question? In case anyone is wondering I answered that I'd prefer my partner and I define those ourselves. Earth shattering. I know. Could it have been that my answer to the travel question is that my bags are packed and I'm ready to go? Does that make them think I'd just disappear? Maybe they are a homebody? Or maybe they can't fly because they are on the the terrorist watch list. Well, luckily they hid from me. I don't want to date someone who can't fly. Or is a terrorist... Maybe they think I'm going to make them become a vegetarian? UGH! What is so horrible about me that the cute professor and the engineer hid from me?

The rational answer is nothing is wrong with me. And if eHarmony cared about me at all they wouldn't leave those fellas lingering on my matches page, just greyed out, taunting me.

But this is the flaw with Match, OKC, Zoosk, or eHarmony, there is nothing that prevents you from checking a million times to see when they signed in last and wondering what it so wrong with you that they didn't message you back. In the immortal words of Dolly Parton, "It is enough to drive you crazy if you let it!"

This does madness does not happen with Tinder for a variety of reasons.

First, you can only see people who have liked your profile as well. It is mutual. It is like smiling at someone in a bar-- if they smile back, go over and start chatting. If they look away and don't smile back, smile at their friend. All those folks you liked on Tinder who didn't like you back, fade into cyber space never to be heard from again.

Second, messages can only be sent between two people who have selected each other. There is no wondering why SurferGuy22 didn't message me back or wondering how on earth that I answered a question and got paired with Toothless Joe and the Psycho(therapist) who breeds his own fish and refers to them as his creations? #truestory #DrFrankenstein

Finally, the last time I looked to see how many people I had matched with it was upwards of 300. My mom always says she thinks there is more than one person out there for everyone, you just decide to be committed to one person. And after matching with 360 men that I at least can stomach sitting across the table from for dinner, I believe that too.

Realistically, would I be happy with all 360?
Probably not. And certainly not all at once. (A different man for every day of the year? That's alot of dating! Even for me.) But they wouldn't all be happy with me either. I'll be too short, or too bossy, or have too many male friends/books/pairs of shoes and they'll be too insecure about my male friends, be a Wiccan, or something truly dreadful, like a dog person. Just kidding! I like dogs. If they are clean and don't jump or bark and like to hike.

But in all seriousness, I'd prefer find out all those things that make someone "real" on a date, rather than have some "doctor" tell me he's found the cure for my case of the singles, only to find out this "extremely good match" is some doofus throwing up the shocker in his profile picture and raving about his dirt bike.

If he is that into his dirt bike, there will be a picture of the two of them on Tinder, and at which point I'll swipe left.

Ironically, Tinder reminds me of what is possible when you aren't so concerned about finding someone who checks all the boxes and you just open your eyes and look around.  It reminds me not to be defeated just because a few guys with puppies didn't like my answers to their stupid questions. After all, the girl dancing on the boardwalk in San Diego who loves bourbon and tacos is going on some pretty great Tinder dates with guys who struck up conversations because she smiled and was close by.

Until Last Night

Wait for it.
Wait for it...

I'm on Tinder.

Say what you want about Tinder, and the hook up culture that not only spawned it, but loves and fuels it, it cuts out a lot of the BS that online dating involves.

For those of you living under a rock and unfamiliar with Tinder, telling you it's the heterosexual version of Grinder probably doesn't help. Tinder employs the ancient technology of thinking someone is cute and being in the same place.

It's basically a bar on a Friday night that allows you to save face if you get rejected.

If you see a photo you like, you swipe right, and if the picture you swiped right on also swiped right on you, then you match. And at that point, message one another.
Otherwise, all those rejects that suffered a swipe left disappear into cyber space. And you can't see those folks you swiped right on that didn't reciprocate.

No more wondering why Joe-Smoe didn't message you after you sent him a smile or why that hot guy holding the puppy didn't message you after looking at your profile.
Does he not like cats, and only likes dogs? Do I look fat in my pictures? Maybe he doesn't like females with more education than he has? Should I take down that comment about loving the Golden Girls? 
It can become maddening.

There is no science behind Tinder. There is no Doctor claiming a superior quality of matches because of the litany of questions you've been forced to answer.

It is all based on proximity and mutual selection.

I'm no longer forced to wade through profiles where Joe, Billy, Tim, Stephen and George to tell me what books they would take to a deserted island and whether or not they prefer elephants to horses. Most of this is garbage that doesn't tell me one real snit about the person.

AND I'm definitely checking out the pictures before I read a single sentence on their profile.

Call me superficial. Call me shallow. But tell me I'm wrong when I claim that in order for a relationship to even get legs, there must as least be a baseline attraction.

Is this superficial? Yes, absolutely.
But it's no more superficial than deciding who you're going to sit down beside at a bar. You like something about the how that person looks, be it their smile, their eyes, or their t-shirt.

And Tinder cuts out all that other BS. I swipe left and send BillyBob into cyberspace exile. Or I swipe right and if Mr. Might-Be-Right has also swiped right it's a match! 90% of my "matches" I never even message, but of these ones I have messaged, and proceeded to go out with I've been pleasantly surprise.

I've met writers, professors, former Marines, entrepreneurs, artists, and engineers.
And I've never been disappointed.

Until last night.

Now, I've had many thoughts about my various dates over the course of my single life.
Some thoughts much more charitable than others...

He's more handsome in person than his pictures online.
Those pictures were taken 5 years and 30 pounds ago.
He should grow his beard back like he had in that one picture. I like beards.
He's had some interesting life experiences.
He seems like he has his life figured out.
His job sounds really complex, he must be smart.
He seems like the worst person on the planet. No wonder he is single.
He seems great! Why is he single...?

But I have never in my life thought "I'm too good for this person who just bought me a drink/ a coffee/ a cupcake."

Until last night.

As Ted and I sat in the coffee shop and I pondered just how old his pictures were and how many pounds he'd put on since they were taken he regaled me with these gems:

• He didn't know that renter's insurance existed, and was stunned to learn that his bicycle would have been covered by it.
• His perspective on foreign language is that "They can have their Japanese/Spanish/French and I'll keep my English because I don't want sound ridiculous."
• His grandparents live 15 minutes from him and he hasn't seen them since 2006

As I sat listening to him, more than a little stunned, I thought, I'm amazing. Why am I wasting my time with this bozo who is trying to plan our second date before we've finished this one and he somehow can't carve out an hour to drive across town to visit the grandparents with whom he has the audacity to claim he has a great relationship? I'm done. Get me out of here. NOW. I don't even want to finish my drink.

Insurance, renter's or otherwise, is something for which any adult should at least possess a frame of reference. Why don't you know what renters insurance is? I know you don't own your home, and that you rent, so presumably you should have lived somewhere that required renter's insurance at some point.

Please, don't tell me that Japanese is so beautiful that you don't want to butcher it, so you didn't learn any while you lived in Japan for two years. If you've ever been on a crowded subway, or trapped in a room of 30 Junior High School students, you know Japanese, like anyway language, isn't always beautiful. And to not want to look ridiculous? Give me a break. If you ever want to learn anything new, you have to be willing to sound/look/be ridiculous. At least for awhile.

And if my grandparents lived 15 minutes away I wouldn't go 8 days, let alone 8 years between visits. Don't tell me you're close with your family, and then tell me that.

I guess the bottom line is that I'm in a very different place in my life than I was 2 years ago when I started this blog. I know what I want in a relationship. In a partner. In the person with whom I choose to build my life. Ted was so far from being that person that I couldn't stand it.

He isn't a bad person. He's not unattractive, mean, or rude.
He's just foolish and his values are misplaced.

I know who I am. I know what I want. And I go see my grandparents.
That makes me too good for him.

Cats Rule. Dogs Drool.

March Madness is my favorite time of the year. 

I start looking forward to filling out my bracket (and taking money from all the guys at work) as soon as the UK/UofL match up happens. I incorporate blue and white into every outfit on game days. I wear my "Go Cats!" button like it is my job, and have a mild panic attack when I can't find it. My boss knows that one of my computer screens will be live streaming games, commentary, or podcasts for the better part of the month of March and he accepts that 90% of everything I say will relate to basketball. I take my foam finger to work and wear it to meetings. I raise my hand twice as often just so I can wave it in the air.

I'm the picture of a professional during the month of March. 

Today is no exception! I am rocking my favorite University of Kentucky shirt and my lucky red shoes. I made sure to add a dash of professional to the game day ensemble with my blazer, because I still need people to believe I'm going to get something accomplished other than reading every news story on KSR and ESPN. 

As I biked across campus, humming the UK Fight Song under my breath, I see the worst site I can imagine. 

A tall, lanky guy wearing a UCONN shirt standing right in the middle of my path smoking a cigarette. I only know one UCONN fan in all of California, and it happens to be Christmas (aka the worst-best date ever). The chances of there being two UCONN fans on campus are about the same as my chance of finding another UK fan wondering around campus at 8:00 am on a Monday morning. 

Slim to none. 

Great... Short of riding my bike through the library, I'm going to have to go right by him. Why did I even like him. He's a smoker and that is so gross. And even worse he is a UCONN fan! Actually, that's not entirely fair, because I do usually root for UCONN. Be the adult here Crigger. Don't ride your bike through the library. Or wreck into the fountain in your haste to get away. Just smile and be polite.

As I got closer I yelled, "You're gonna lose! You're gonna lose!" 

Nice Crigger. Not only was that not exactly polite, but you stole Stilwell's line from 'A League of Their Own'. 

Original. 

And classy. 

"Whaaaa...?" he sputtered before he realize it was I. "You guys just think you are the best team. We'll prove you wrong." He shouted at my back.

"We don't think we are the best. We know it. And after tonight, everyone else will too when we win our 9th title." I yelled over my shoulder as I sped away.

Well... that could have gone worse I suppose. I thought as I pedaled feverishly towards my office.

A little while later my phone lit up with a text message. 

"Care to place a wager on the game Ms. Wildcat?" 

"Absolutely! I love a sure thing!" I typed back to Christmas. "What did you have in mind?"

"Not sure. What do you mind losing?"

"Ha! Over confidence. Nice. It will make beating you that much better!"

"From the one who just said 'sure thing'? You remember what happened the last time you bet me, right?"

"I let you win."

"So you like taking embarrassing photos?"

"That photo is by far one of the least embarrassing photos of me ever taken."

"What would be the most embarrassing photo of you ever taken."

"I'm not telling."

"Then that is what I would like to wager."

"An embarrassing photo?"

"An embarrassing photo shoot."
"No dice. Not that this will happen, because we will win, but I don't want embarrassing photos of me floating around your office."  And when we win I don't want to have to get together with you to take said embarrassing photo of you.

"Fine, what do you suggest?"

"If you UK wins I'll bring you a UK themed outfit to wear to work."

"That is the most boring bet ever."

"You should ask the Kansas fan about the outfit he had to wear to work two years ago..."

UK better win this game! 

I'm not wearing his UCONN crap to work!

 

You're Killing Me Smalls!

Let me set the scene for you.

The night before I flew home for Christmas, I was out with a few co-workers who have become friends. While we were out, I met a guy. We all ended up staying out way too late and the next day he offered to take me to the airport. He showed up at my house with a latte, carried my suitcases, made me promise to call him if I needed anything, and double checked that I got through security without issue.

All signs are pointing to "This person does not think you are gross." 

SCORE!

We texted a few times over the break and at one point I suggested we get together when we are both back on California soil.

To that suggestion, I got a solid week of radio silence. Amelia Earhart had more communication while circling the Burmuda Triangle than I had from Christmas Boy. 

I chalked it up to his loss not mine and went about my merry way.

A few days after I got back to California I received a text from that read, "Sorry for the silence. I've been sick. Want to get together on Sunday for some football and beers?"

"Sure!" I respond.

Hmmm... interesting development. Nearly a week of silence and now football and beers? Okay! I can work with that.

I ultimately ended up having to cancel our date at the last minute, but he was great about it.
Even when it happened for the second time...

Well, I know he can deal with my crazy, spontaneous life and doesn't get upset when plans change... So that's a plus! 

Finally, nearly a month after our first meeting, it works out for us to get together. Christmas comes to pick me and we go to play Trivia at Dave and Busters.

Now, I love Trivia. I used to play Trivia every week when I lived in Pittsburgh. And I've had several great dates that have involved Trivia playing, so I've got fairly high hopes for this date. And in the week preceding this date, I've talked sooooo much trash about how awesome I am at Trivia and how I'm going to wipe the floor with him that now not only is a date at stake, my Trivia Pride is as well.

As it usually happens when I talk smack about how awesome I am at something, the exact opposite happens. It was as if I had cotton balls for brains! The loss was so bad he asked me if I let him win, to which I responded "I'll never tell," hoping he would assume I had.

In my defense those Trivia question were super hard! And I might have been paying more attention to Christmas than the game. Sue me.  And the version we were playing featured much more obscure sporting questions than I really think was fair, and not nearly enough geography and history! 

Since I lost, and we had a bet, and I never welsh on a bet, I had to wear my jacket backwards, tied up like a straight jacket and tell people I had just been let out of a mental institution. In order to get out of my "straight jacket" I had to get two different people to give me a shoulder bump (a high five wouldn't work since my hands were inaccessible).

"This is going to be like shooting fish in a barrel! There is a group of junior high school boys standing over there playing video games. I bet I can get them all to give me a shoulder bump." I said as I strode purposely over to the cluster of boys.

"Excuse me?" I said, launching into the mental patient story. "Can I get you give me a shoulder bump?" I asked at the end of my soliloquy.

"Ummm... I don't think so. I don't want to get involved." said one of the guys looking extremely awkward. "This seems like a couple problem."

"Ahhhh come on!" I pleaded.

"Nope." He said turning around.

Well, I guess some guys don't like crazy bitches... Maybe that starts in high school? 

Meanwhile, Christmas is laughing his head off. And taking this picture. 

I'm not sure what is wrong with my eye...

"Seriously?" I say turning around in disbelief. "I can't believe a junior high schooler isn't into this? What junior high school boy doesn't want to give a cute girl a shoulder bump? That guy will help me out!" I say spying some sort of Monk or Priest. What this bearded, black robe clad man wearing a GIANT gold cross around his neck was doing in Dave and Buster's I wasn't quite sure. But given the vows he almost certainly had taken to help the poor and distressed, I figured he was a safe bet. 

"Excuse me sir?" I said planting myself in front of him and starting into my shpeal. Hmmmm, probably shouldn't have mentioned we were betting... The Bible specifically says don't do that. Too late now. Maybe, he'll help me anyway. "Can you give me a shoulder bump?" I asked as I came to the end of the saga.

"Sure!" he says smiling and bumping my shoulder with his. "How many more of these do you need?"

"Just one!"

"Come with me! My niece will help you out." He said with a head nod, leading us through the arcade.

"I"m free! I'm free at last!" I squeal after his niece has bumped my shoulder. "Thank you guys so much!"

After we left the Monk and his arcade loving family, we headed over to play some ski ball (Which I won, thank goodness! I had to redeem myself!)

A few games of ski ball, some speed racer driving game that I was atrocious at, we decided we had had enough game playing and headed to check out the "prizes". After perusing the high quality items ranging from a Wii that took a gazillion million tickets, to the bouncing balls and expandable back-scratchers that only took a mere 500 tickets, we decided to spend our tickets on a unicorn.

Now, I didn't really want this unicorn, but it seemed really important to Christmas that we leave with something. 

"I hate to take your tickets." I said. "You should keep them and then next time you're here you could get something that you actually want."

"No, it's fine! Tickets are for spending. Hopefully, you'll look at this and remember a fun time."

"I'm sure I will." I said as we left the store. Is it rude to shove this thing in my purse? I feel ridiculous carrying a stuffed unicorn! Just carry it to the car Crigger! He did a nice thing!

Back at my house, I said, "Well, do you want to come in and hang out for awhile? Or are you ready to call it a night?"

"I can hang out for awhile."

"Alright. Want a beer or a bourbon?" I asked as we walked into the kitchen.

"I'd take a water. I should probably stop drinking since I will have to drive at some point."

"Okay." I said pouring him a water.
I hand him the glass and he takes a long, slow drink.

"Geeze, timing just sucks." He said clenching the glass.

"Ummm... how so?" I asked, confused.

"Well, I've kind of started seeing someone. And it isn't that I'm not attracted to you, because I am. It's just timing."

"Oh." I literally said Oh. It was like I had been lifted up out of my body and couldn't form real words. 

"You're really great. And I do like you. And tonight was really fun."

What the heck is happening right now? If you are seeing someone exclusively then we should never have gone out. And if it isn't exclusive, what does that person have to do with me, because I, for one, was just on a great date. Were you not on that date? Did we go on two different dates together. And, by the way, damn straight I'm great! Clearly too great for you, idiot! 

These were all things that ran through my head in the 10 second pause I used to pick myself off the floor.
Did I say any of these things?
No.  

Instead I went with this gem: "It's all about timing. Everything in life is."

Seriously, Crigger. Pull it together. Not that timing isn't important, but geeze!

"Ugh, sometimes I hate being so honest." He said dropping his forehead into his palm

Excuse me? What does that even mean? I believe what you mean is that you are honestly, kinda cheating on someone right now if you feel the need to have this discussion with me!

"Honesty isn't a bad thing." I say awkwardly, as if I am trying to make him feel better. 

WHAT?! Great line Socrates. I hear them scratching that one into a stone tablet right now. I'm sure it will be preserved for the ages.

"I would like to have just kept my mouth shut, because I'm really attracted to you."

I think I might vomit. Don't vomit! You just cleaned the floor!

"Ugh, this sucks." He said, stepping forward and giving me weirdly tight hug.

This sucks for you? Oh, I'm sorry. Forgive me because I am pretty sure I'm the one getting dumped by someone I'm not dating after a great second date, where I willing made a fool of myself. Are you for real? Why are you hugging me so tightly? It is like you're trying to memorize me. This is weird. I want you to leave.  I want you to not be touching me. Get. Out. GET. OUT. GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!!!!!

"Well, um call me when it doesn't work out with that less awesome girl..." I said pushing him towards the door.
"Ugh. I just wish I hadn't been honest."
Why? Do you think if you hadn't had this conversation that we'd be getting wild upstairs right now? 
"Good night." I said opening the door.
Seriously? Did that just happen? Is he for real? Was this some strange dream and I'll wake up very confused tomorrow? I thought as I slammed the door a bit harder than I meant to behind him.

Doubtful. Very doubtful. I thought picking up Martin (named since it was MLK weekend) the Unicorn and walking upstairs to my room.

Well, work is certainly going to be awkward the next time I bump into him on campus. I thought tossing the unicorn into the back of my closet. 

Oh, did I forget to mention that Christmas is my co-worker?

Yep.

#FML