Tinder has never quite worked for me, and I think I finally get why.
I have been looking for love.
And Tinder is all about looking for sex. Raunchy, quick, no pretending, don’t ask names, let’s meet immediately and get it off, sex.
So while I thought I would go on glorious dates and be wined and dined and showered with gifts, really, I had men who just wanted to fuck me.
Men who wanted to send me photographs of their purple warrior. Their meat thermometer. Their lady boner.
Photographs of dicks, up close and personal, did not turn me on.
Especially when they belonged to strangers.
Even when I changed my profile pic and made myself look demure and old fashioned and just, well, unsexy, they kept on coming.
Dick, dick, dick, dick, dick.
So I deleted Tinder.
I was not going to find love on Tinder.
Or was I? Am I?
Right now I’m on a plane heading to Cape Town. The man sitting next to me is on his phone. He’s on Tinder, of course, and swiping furiously.
I’m looking over his shoulder.
Ever send dick pics, I ask?
Only to my girlfriend, he replies.
He’s not the man for me. He sends dick pics and he’s hogging the damn armrest. Also, he keeps adjusting his schlong. But he is rather gorgeous and has told me there are lots of fully clothed, older, handsome, single men in Cape Town.
So I’m reloading Tinder. I’m only going to be in the city for a few days and I’m going to swipe right on every single interesting intelligent well hung man I come across.
User name – Violet.
Bio – Looking for love. Or sex. Or love and sex.
Wish this plane would land already.
Wish I could remember my password.