No, I don’t want to try Tinder … again

“Ugh, I don’t want to download Tinder, again. The only way I’m participating is if someone else runs my profile, talks to the guys, and then just gives me an address where I can show up and meet the guy for a drink.”

“I’ll do it.”

The rest of last Friday evening was spent explaining the finer points of Tinder to my friend Laura while we swiped through available guys in the area. It turns out you can give your friends access to your Tinder profile (if you also give them access to your Facebook). Laura is in a committed relationship and has been for some time. This was her first Tinder-perience. There was a lot of giggling. I blame the bottle and a half of champagne.

“How is this not fun to you?”

And she was completely right. Tinder isn’t fun for me and hasn’t been for a while. I have downloaded and deleted the app at least seven times before. Why do I keep torturing myself? The app seems to bring me nothing but self-doubt and disappointment. In honor of Valentine’s Day, I have decided to swear off Tinder forever and make a list of all the reasons why.

1. My mattress is a full, and I like to sleep in the center. Sharing is overrated.
2. I am more than profile picture.
3. Few guys will actually read the 500 characters that Tinder allows for self-description. But writing this profile never stops stressing me out, and I’ve rewritten my own blurb countless times. I’ve lost the ability to sound sane. At this point, my profile is either complete fiction or the ramblings of a bitter, scorned thirty-something. I’m pretty sure neither of those will help me attract a potential partner.
4. I recently started wearing a mouth guard. I’m just not ready for anyone else to experience that up close and personal.
5. You are more than your profile picture. But someone should really give some of the guys on Tinder a lesson on smiling like a human person. If every picture of a guy is nothing but frowns or smiles that appear painful, I assume that my chances of being murdered increase significantly. (swipe left)
6. While I agonize over my 500 characters, it’s amazing how few characters it takes to certify that someone is an asshole. (swipe left)
7. I’m tired of driving myself crazy trying to interpret your ‘Tinder code’. I’m 99 percent sure the hidden meaning of ‘being into fitness’ or ‘living a healthy lifestyle’ is actually ‘no fatties’. (swipe left)
8. If the stars align and we actually message each other, 98 out of 100 guys will turn out to be completely boring. (unmatch)
9. I never assume a guy will pay for me. I’m also poor. So, on the off chance we actually meet IRL, I have to choose between adding to the credit card or looking like a cheapskate.
10. I am working a job to pay the bills, following my dreams in my spare time, attempting to stay informed about current political events, remembering that self-care is important, and trying to be a good person overall. Meeting multiple guys for less-than-mediocre coffee conversation is just not high on my list of priorities (and that goes without mentioning the mindless swiping and messaging).
11. Making good impressions takes a lot of energy, and I’m just too tired to pretend that I don’t fart regularly. (swipe left)

So, that’s it. I’m done with Tinder and not looking back. I’m moments away from deleting it for the last time. I have no doubt that there will come a time when I will be tempted to reenter the Tindersphere. Maybe after I go to a party with mostly couples or when I put on a dress with a particularly hard to reach zipper. But I won’t give in. Tinder is not the answer — at least not for me. And, it definitely isn’t fun.

Since Friday, Laura has been able to view all of my matches and conversations on her phone. Today, Laura was texting me about a guy I matched with last night. Please notice her last comment.

Not that interesting? None of them are, Laura. None of them are.