Varun’s beanstalk fingers slide on his phone screen with expert pace.
I sneak a glance at him. He looks up and nervously notes Dhoni’s defiance on TV, but regains confidence as he quickly glances down to almost slash his screen on Rhea, 29.
Unable to mask my amusement and of course the innate urge to know what a man is thinking at all times, I kick him, “F***er, they all can’t be hot bro!”
He holds his phone to his chest and sheepishly grins, “See the way you’re swiping na buddy,” as I painstakingly examine at a fairly respectable chap’s pictures at least ten times from different angles before I hesitatingly relent. Varun nudges me with a wink, “One of us has to ensure probability na”
The New York Times claims, on the popular dating app, Tinder which has users swipe right to ‘like’ a potential match and left to say ‘nope’, men are almost three times as likely to swipe right than women are. Allegedly, men do it 46% of the time, while women do it just 14% of the time.
And I can safely say, most men adopt the ‘dance bar’ (no disrespect) logic while swiping, because they claim there are hardly any women on the app, so why be picky?
So if you want the ladies to swipe the field, why put her in the box?
Unabashedly single, I wouldn’t really admit to guilt, but I’ve, um, consumed Tinder rather raucously.
No, I don’t use it to have wild, passionate sex with strangers who I’ve so carefully handpicked (quite literally) but it sure as hell doesn’t mean I’m here ‘just to make friends’. But yet, I find myself often having to explain to wide eyed couples or condescending folk about why I am making such ‘queer lifestyle choices’.
Sorry, I don’t remember this app coming with a manual.
So if she says she’s ‘not looking for hook ups’ and that doesn’t quite float your boat, back off man. And if his bio reads ‘Not looking for something serious,’ don’t run down the app, he’s being honest!
Don’t go on a rant on Facebook, whining about being friend zoned on a dating app and why women shouldn’t even be on it.
It. Happens. Even. In. Real. Life
I’ve been scoffed at for emerging starry eyed from Tinder dates, castigated with a ‘told you so’ for expecting the second phone call and even pinged at constantly for not responding to ‘You horny 2nite babez?’
But, sure, none of this would happen if you met someone organically, right?
Like at a bar or something? Never, right?
Because, no strange things happen when people walk up to you in a bar, right?
Ironically enough, just like the vegetarians impose meat bans and the supposedly celibate go around advocating how many children women should bear, the whole taboo around unfortunate Tinder comes from a lot of people who aren’t even on it.
But that doesn’t absolve the Tinderatti.
It’s bad enough that I have to explain breathlessly how the app works to my palpitating mother as I dash out the door for another ‘mystery date’ (bless her, for joking about it). At least, she tries.
But the real stake in my heart is when I have to turn crusader and explain myself to sneering fellow Tinderers and sadly sometimes, my own matches.
It appears like I missed the memo where you’re supposed to appear like you want to date, but still don’t want to, but use the app anyway because everyone is doing it, but also act mad surprised when you meet someone, erm, normal.
In cheesy closing, I dated someone seriously, albeit briefly off this app and some of my closest friends are marrying their Tinder boyfriends. I also made wonderful friends who set me up with their bros after we realised we had nothing in common beyond the match.
So the next time you’re judged for a swipe, you know what finger to use.
(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)