Tinder Bingo and the other games I play on dating apps: How they make me a jerk
I’m surprised just how easy I was found out. I was on Bumble and someone caught me.
They obviously caught me ON Bumble, but they caught my reasoning for being on there.
“I had an inclination you were on here as some sort of social experiment.”
Was I that obvious? It could have been that I wasn’t taking anything seriously, and my responses were mostly quips and void of “haha” and emojis. (That’s proper flirting, correct?) But, was it that obvious? Is there a note on my forehead that reads, “If, then”?
I had downloaded Bumble because I just moved back to Detroit and needed friends. And not by ways of putting these men in the Friendzone. But by ways of BFF Mode. Bumble now has a BFF Mode, so I can set it to only match with women who also need friends because they also spend 60 hours a week at a desk wondering if anyone else ever wants to go biking on the riverfront.
But since Bumble BFF is new, I ran out of female friends to be matched with before my coworker finished his Throwback Thursday playlist that morning. So, rather than continuing my massive to-do list that accompanies a job at a startup, I remembered the time I played the Sam Hunt Lyric Game on Tinder.
Rules of Sam Hunt Lyric Game:
- Can only respond to messages from men with lyrics from Sam Hunt songs.
- Cannot tell them I am messing with them by using Sam Hunt’s song lyrics unless I get found out
Results of this game included a massive understanding that men were clueless to any games being played on them. For instance, many Sam Hunt lyrics could possibly fit into normal conversation, such as “I don’t want to steal your freedom. I don’t want change your mind.” However, many lyrics came from out of the blue, did not fit into normal social standards, and men seemed to skip over completely, such as “All of your old shoes are looking brand new, they wanna be worn but never get the chance to.”
After three days of hilarity that ensued, and only being caught once, I deleted Tinder because I was sick of seeing men’s professional head shots as their main photo. Because #YoureSoNashvilleIf.
Fast forward around two years, Bumble becomes the new Tinder and there are still so many men with professional head shots on both apps that I wonder if I should start a side hustle helping with dating photos. I decide while my coworker is trying to remember the title of that one LFO song, I’m going to see what men on Bumble think of my purple anime cat tattoo (I don’t have one) and see if they think my dad is cool (sent photos of my dad on a motorcycle as my pickup line) or think it’s weird when I comment about how close they are in proximity to my office (most .2 miles away).
I avoided questions, made up lies and insulted 3 red-headed men. I tried to see how far I could take it with the jokes before they didn’t respond.
I’m an asshole because the app is entertainment. And I can’t take it seriously until I did take it seriously and actually liked a guy from it (see later).
In theory, I don’t hate the idea of dating apps. I understand it- we are so busy and it’s hard to look up from our phones at bars to meet anyone new. Oddly enough, I am found to be playing Tinder Bingo* in bars with friends anyway, so we don’t even look up from our phones then.
Tinder Bingo, Sam Hunt Lyric Game and this past weekend I let my mom use my Bumble to find me someone. Mostly she was just saying no, and asking why men needed to put emojis in their bio. I taught her to say no to Royal Oak Bros, because I am not leaving Detroit to date. And as a family, we try to say no to men who went to University of Michigan.
Except for last week when I did date someone who went to University of Michigan, and we actually met on Bumble, and he actually didn’t fall for my snark behind these dating app games. And I actually took Bumble serious for a second and went on a real date. Actually more than a few real dates.
He caught me, making a joke of the process of trying to meet someone inorganically. And he caught me knowing full well that this was some social experiment.
And at first, I was proud. To admit I wasn’t using a dating app seriously because, gosh who would actually be on dating apps seriously? Who would be on these embarrassing things?
And then after I listed off all of the games I’ve played on people on Tinder and Bumble, and the social experiments from dating Internet Boyfriends and accidentally meeting men on Twitter, I realized I had a crutch in these games.
Crutch aside, I was an asshole to everyone who actually wanted to use Bumble to meet someone. I made fun of the process to protect myself because I couldn’t admit that I cannot meet anyone IRL.
(…. and that’s probably because I just said “IRL” instead of “in real life.”)
It’s probable that over three dates and a little over a week later, he couldn’t deal with all of my games and rebuttals of wit that I hide behind. He didn’t stay around long enough to see what I was hiding, and truthfully, thank God because I’m not ready to come out of hiding.
Mostly though, this was proof enough I shouldn’t be dating right now. The fact that I’m playing these games and inadvertently being a jerk to those who aren’t trying to play games means I can’t handle someone who actually wants to try.
Additional proof is that I treat the men I date with nicknames, in which they don’t get real names until “it’s real.”
So, here is to my Lawyer BF, my NYC boyfriend, my StartUp BF, my Gym BF, and on. Your names won’t live on, but at least you weren’t a spot on the Tinder Bingo board this time.
*Tinder Bingo boards can be found online, but we’ve also made our own. It’s played like regular Bingo, only a spot on the board can be examples of the following: Picture of man holding fish, Info says he’s fun, info says “swipe right if…..” Gym selfie. And the free space is usually a picture of a man holding a dog.
