It’s a mindless game that many college students play: swiping left or right on a picture of a stranger. The concept may be simple, but the consequences are far from minimal. I’ve had my fair share of Tinder experiences, even referred to myself as “Tinderella,” and at one point I was convinced that Tinder was the only way to meet a guy since my major is almost completely women.
I downloaded the app after my ex-boyfriend and I broke up over the summer after our freshman year. “Why not try?” I asked myself. “It’s worth a shot.” I got addicted to the app and was swiping guys left and right as much as I possibly could. I was hungry for matches because I wanted attention. I wanted to feel loved again.
The first match I actually connected with, let’s call him “A,” was incredibly sweet and funny, and we ended up hitting it off almost right away. He was a few years older than me and was only in town for a baseball tournament, but we still talked for a couple weeks before he ghosted me one day. I was a little hurt, but I moved on within a few days and continued my near obsessive use of the dating app.
“B” was the next match I talked to. We met the day we moved back to our college town, and he seemed to be an amazing guy. He was tall, strong, and driven: an almost polar opposite to my ex. After a short walk around campus where we had very pleasant conversation, we went back to my dorm and he immediately wanted to have sex with me. I’m not a girl who sleeps with someone she just met, so I declined.
He wouldn’t have it. It took multiple attempts for me to get him off me and out my door. A month later, he asked me to hang out again, apologizing profusely for his previous behavior. I’m a believer in second chances, so I accepted the apology and met him at his place. We had an extremely deep conversation about life and future, and I thought everything was going to be okay. Then, he tried pulling me to his bedroom to have sex with me. He was playing me the whole time, so I left heartbroken and feeling used.
I talked to a guy we’ll call “C” between my two encounters with the previous match. He was an extremely handsome and kind Catholic guy, someone my parents would have definitely approved of. We talked for quite awhile, but he went to a school in a neighboring town and we never had time to see each other more than once. One day, he told me via text that despite being a sweet girl and his attraction to me, we would never work. I had spent so much time talking to him and telling him all about myself that I was absolutely torn after reading that text message.
Since I had been heartbroken three times from three separate matches, I deleted Tinder in the middle of September. I downloaded it again a couple weeks before Halloween because I was still tired of being single. In the two weeks between deleting the app and Halloween, I matched with and met three separate people. One was a self-absorbed artist, the next was a gym-obsessed guy who was only interested in a physical relationship and the third had no motivation to do anything with his life.
“D” was my latest and my last match of my life if I can help it. He lived about 45 minutes away and was a few years older than me, but that didn’t stop us from seeing each other. Every weekend someone would go to the other person’s place. We had so much in common, shared the same sense of humor and he constantly complimented me on my smile and my eyes. After we’d been talking for about five weeks, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I gladly accepted, happy to finally be wanted by someone again.
I was ready to praise Tinder, to tell people that there are good guys out there, to finally have someone to show off. One week later, he broke up with me because I was too young for him, he was uncomfortable with the distance and he hated being tied down. You can imagine how devastated I was, because I’d already told my best friends and was planning on telling my family within the next few days. I cried for hours on end that night, wondering where I went wrong and why guys always deserted me.
Looking back on it all, I realize that my heart has been has been broken too many times in just a few months. I’ve had too many kisses goodbye and not nearly enough kisses hello. Somehow in all this insanity, I lost parts of myself that I’m trying to gradually get back.
I am never downloading Tinder again. Why? I’m more than a match on a dating app. I’m more than a face that you swipe left or right. I’m more than just a collection of five photos and a short little bio. I sincerely hope everyone who has had his or her fair share of Tinder problems comes to realize this. Sure, I might be single for a while, but I’m young. There’s plenty of time to find a Prince Charming who doesn’t have a taste for Tinderellas.