It’s that time of year again – Valentine’s day. For me, it’s usually spent eating pizza, watching films, and drinking cheap cava, which on any other day would be perfectly acceptable behaviour (right?) but on this particular one comes across as a bit sad. Therefore, as Felix’s resident perennial singleton, I volunteered to test-drive the app of the moment, Tinder, admittedly fuelled more by a morbid curiosity than anything. Online dating is a thing now I guess – who knew?

The initial set up was fairly easy; once you’ve downloaded the app, you login with your Facebook details to set up your profile. My profile consisted of four of my most recent Facebook profile pictures (see left). To be honest, if I was editing my profile I would probably choose some more flattering/Instagram-engineered snaps, but regrettably these actually reflect my personality fairly accurately. Form an orderly queue, gents.

There are a few logistical issues when you start out. Worryingly for me, the age settings were automatically set to show men from aged 18 to 50. I didn’t actually figure this out until after I started swiping, or rather, accidentally approving matches when trying to view their photos. (Note: If you do get matched with a no-no, there’s a block function to stop them from messaging you.) I changed it to 21 to 26, i.e. one year younger than me up to my brother’s age. Sorry bro.

The distance was initially set up to 60 km, which I changed to 5km. Setting it to more than twenty minutes away or so seems to me a bit counterintuitive, but if you restrict it too much you increase your chances of running into people that you know on it. With the amount of people in London that’s not really so much of a problem, but I’d imagine that when I go back home to rural Ireland I’ll have a swell time running across my primary school classmates or, heaven forbid, a cousin or two.

There is also the question of social etiquette. What happens when you actually do find someone you know? I’ve come across course mates and people from halls that I haven’t spoken to in about 3 years. And it hasn’t happened yet for me, but what on earth do you do when you happen across an ex? Clearly, deciding if you still “would” is different when you actually know the person, and while the mature thing to do is simply let be and swipe left every time, who doesn’t want to know if you “would” even if I “wouldn’t”?

Allow me to tentatively introduce the “courtesy swipe”. (Whether or not it leads to the “courtesy shag” is entirely up to you.) I used the courtesy swipe for good friends that I know wouldn’t take it seriously, and to test the memory of some old acquaintances. Let me assure you that if I actually did get a cousin, the courtesy swipe would not extend that far.

My most awkward experiences so far have been running across a friend’s boyfriend, and one of my good friend’s brothers. I’m also quite judgemental when it comes to mutual friends and shared interests – yes, I’m allowed to like crap TV, but I’m afraid that you’re not.

Here are some real life examples from my Tinder-tastic few day, with left for no and right for yes:

“Looking for a fun time no strings attached” – I feel like this is unnecessary to specify on Tinder. Left. A topless photo with a description of “I hate girls that sleep with me on the first date :(”. Funny, but the topless photo is overkill. Left.

Anyone Imperial – Lord no, we’ve got Metric for that kind of thing. Left left left. Artificially aged photo – erm. Interesting approach, thanks for showing me a future I never thought possible. Left.

“I’ve got a bunk bed” – Sold. Right. A dog in your picture? Right, every time.

I also spoke to a few who already own and frequent the app. One friend has been on Tinder for about 3 weeks now, and got it because “hanging out at the Union and with other students the boys I was getting with were getting younger than me and I didn’t like it!” Her instant “no”s include: cartoon first pictures, big group lad shots (“the number of times I’ve gone to the first picture and been like ‘please be the tall dark haired one’ flick to next picture ‘oh god you’re the short balding one with the lazy eye’”), pictures with kids (“I don’t want to be someone’s stepmum”), polo necks, ‘Essex’ slicked back hair and undercuts, pictures with their cars/motorbikes, gang signs/the finger, fat or balding, bodybuilders, wrestling/MMA etc. (there’s a surprising number of them), spelling mistakes or things like MALIA ‘13 in their descriptions.

She says she’s had two successful dates (sans hookup) with the possibility of meeting up again, but another date turned out to be much shorter than her: “I now understand why a lot of guys post their height in their descriptions- it is obviously a hazard of Tinder- the short guys can hide!” According to her, the “weirdos” come out on Friday or Saturday nights. She was kind enough to share with us a prime example:

Guy no.1 (had pictures of him playing rugby) Her: What position do you play? Btw I support Wales, if that’s going to be a problem we should probably quit now Him: Where’s your world cup? Her: Yours is dusty Him: Well that’s ok I’ll be good at dusting it off after I’ve dusted off your vagina.

She subsequently laughed, then cringed, and then took offence to him calling her vagina dusty, and blocked the poor chap. Simultaneously labelling her vagina as dry, dirty, and vacant? Well done sir.

The results: how did I actually get on? Well, I’ve had the app for a grand total of 3 days, with 27 matches, 5 uninitiated conversations, and 0 real-life interactions, for lack of a better word. The numbers are pretty solid, and if you’re running dry this Valentine’s Day, Tinder is a good way to liven up your love life. And let’s be honest, with the demise of Flappy Bird, swiping is as a good a way as any to pass time in lectures anyway. So will Tinder’s place in my phone live to see another day? I’m undecided. But in the meantime, keep swiping boys.