My phone ran out of storage because of all my dating apps. JSwipe, Tinder, Hinge, Grouper and even Grindr (for journalistic research) framed my phone background (Word on the Street, p. 4). I swiped left and right to fall asleep. I swiped on the toilet, instead of homework, during family car trips: I was shameless.
Then I ran out of space and realized I was never going to meet Ryan Gosling on Tinder. So I deleted my dating apps so I live my narcissistic dreams through Snapchat.
Yes, I’ve been on one Tinder date and two Hinge dates. I played chess with a guy from Tinder for two hours and lost. I drank some Cognac and Cointreau out of a tea cup in a Lower East Side speakeasy with a Goldman dude from Hinge. I waited 30 minutes on the street and split the tab with an almost–5’6” almost–lawyer match.
My mom said that dating apps are the future, but I don’t have the time or data plan for more than swiping right.
I know I’ll hear so-and-so met on TinderJswipeHingeGrouperGrindr or whatever. My friend will say you have to try this app. I’ll try again. I know it.
After all, my middle name is Hope.
Here's to swiping right,