Last week I shared why getting yourself a (mostly) digital boyfriend will make your life so much easier. A quick review: A digital boyfriend means most of your relationship happens on your phone, via text, dating app chat or FaceTime. You won't meet your BF IRL (boyfriend in real life) for the first time until you are deep into your relationship, which will save you considerable time and money. You only have to do a pricey Brazilian wax on the day you meet, maybe the day before to let the burn of ripped skin settle.
Now for the math. Since you've been dating for three months already, you have socked away a good $300. You haven't spent a thing on fancy meals trying to impress him with how much money you make or get in child support. Digital dating is the new retirement savings program, leaving plenty of money for important things like a single Soul Cycle class ($30). Instead of hiring babysitters so you can date in the flesh, you can spend time with your kids, if you fancy this kind of thing. If not, you can cozy up in bed and binge watch "The Americans," which is every single American mother's birthright.
This week I share the how-to process of getting yourself one of the above. Swipe dating is a hideous combination of fun and repulsion. It rivals Candy Crush's ability to sink its claws into your unsuspecting brain. The designers of apps like Tinder and Hinge have paid smart people to make sure your addiction ensues. Is swipe dating a game, the new Ok Cupid or a social network? It's a tasty combo platter that thrives on you using them as all three.
To gain entry into the world of swiping tiger pics (not to be confused with cougar pics) to the left (that's means YOU'RE GROSS or "pass") you first need to be on Facebook. I only mention this because my two best girlfriends are not. Their refusal to take part in what comprises my entire work and social life is some sort of political statement about anonymity or something ridiculous like that. If you are single in 2015, be prepared for no stoned about you to be unturned (hello, Google). If you're anti-Facebook (anti-life) you need to drop this position asap if you want to get laid—ever.
Don't get me started on age. No one tells the truth. I did until I was told by a Swiper I need to knock a few years off to come up in a quality search (25-45).
When you download Tinder you'll have immediate access to your Facebook pictures, so you better have some good ones up. Since mine are mostly of my kids, I had to be sly about uploading new profile pics that showed off my rack one after the other. A dead give-away that a friend is in Tinder-mode is when family style profile pics cycle out, replaced with duck lip selfies.
Then comes the short "Bio" or "About me" section to fill in. On Hinge, this auto populates from Facebook, so spiff up the job resume if you need to look employed. Don't get me started on age. No one tells the truth. I did until I was told by a Swiper I need to knock a few years off to come up in a quality search (25-45). Reluctantly I did so by going into my Facebook settings and changing my age there.
Firstly, Tinder is foremost a height-measuring app. Men always list their height (they're obsessed). Women don't. Studying these "about me" sections is like taking a Learning Annex mens studies class; I've learned so much from these couple of sentences. For the most part men like things that I don't, such as concerts, volleyball on the beach and surfing. Or at least, I don't feel a need to be defined by them. Take for example, "nature and the great outdoors." I love "nature and the outdoors" because I don't like being inside all day. But I am not going list "nature and the great outdoors" in my bio—I think it's a given people like fresh air. Men love to list things they love or maybe just like, such as Sriracha, sarcasm and "Breaking Bad" (still going strong). They love their dogs (a lot), walks on the beach at sunset, hiking, beer, sports and all seem to be "looking for a best friend." One with big tits they can bang the shit out of (This part goes unmentioned). They call her Tinderella.
I swipe on the toilet, the elliptical and waiting for spin class to start. I try not to swipe and carpool. But I am not immune.
The swiping game is simple. You don't need more than eyes and a finger. You can do it anywhere. And once you start it's hard to stop. I swipe on the toilet, the elliptical and waiting for spin class to start. I try not to swipe and carpool. But I am not immune. If you see someone who is not shirtless and holding a gun or a fake gun made of glass and filled with liquor, you swipe right. It'll be rare. But you'll swipe right here and there because it's a game. And now you're playing it. If your Swipee also swiped right, a little bouncy screen pops up congratulating the match with "now say hi!" It also offers the option to "keep playing." I always keep playing.
The majority of male players want to "explore this beautiful city together" and be "your tour guide." They support this with photos standing on Malibu mountaintops or Matt LeBlanc's star on the Walk of Fame. They reel in big fish, pose on the red carpet with a D list reality star and pound beers with their teenage sons. Sometimes it can be confusing when in their first photo they're cleavage-deep with their last girlfriend. But deciphering the male psyche is all part of the fun. It is also the fuel for the propaganda you'll use when you tell everyone you are turning gay.
Stay tuned for my post on what happens next: making contact.