Tinder totally complements my lazy and attention-seeking personality. It usually takes me a few drinks to start talking to strangers but, thanks to my i Phone, I'm now virtu-flirting while I wee.
Would it be impolite to ask him to Snapchat me a gum-shot, so I can be sure he's not a toothless hick?
His main profile pic includes three of his mates (those are almost worse than the sneaky selfies because you don't know if you've pulled an alpha male or his loser friend) but we have a mutual acquaintance who assures me he's a "safe bloke". He's exactly the sort of 20-something that Tinder or Ok Cupid would welcome: hip, active on social media, possibly polygamous (a cheat), but authentic and upfront about it.
Tinder uses your existing social networking data from Facebook to locate people in the immediate vicinity, tell you a bit about them, whether you have any friends in common and (most importantly) show you a pic.
It has slimmed down the emotional, cognitive and financial investment required by the virtual dating process to one simple question: “Do I want to do you?
On closer inspection, his pics are all selfies, which screams "I’m vain and don’t have any friends to take pics of me.” Another cutie introduces himself with a coy "heyyy" (words are stretched out on Tinder, for some reason – "How are you? ") but I note his height in comparison to his friends in group shots. Tuesday My sociopathic curiosity and appetite for constant validation are fuelled by Tinder's addictive swipe function.