1. Observe The Expiration Date
You have a week. Two days to a week to chat with me before deciding to meet. This is a dating app, not a friend app, not an I’m lonely and need to chat or practice my lady skills app. A dating app for those interested in dating. So make moves.
2. Be Proactive
Given that you had a clever, yet unexpected intro and we have now been chatting for a day or two (or a week, you do have a week) and you’ve concluded that I’m not obviously awkward, annoying, dumb or unstable, you then suggest we “grab a drink since we’re only like 3 miles away.” At this point, once the talks of meetings have commenced, you MUST ask for my phone number. I’m already exhausted from the courage of downloading the app in the first place, then actually using it, swiping right when I saw your face, and finally engaging in conversation with you, that the least you could do for the both of us is give me your digits or ask for mine so we can pretend with ourselves, and to anyone who peeps onto our screens, that we’re just texting another love interest. You know, the kind you meet in the physical world.
3. Think Of Chivalry As On Its Death Bed
Boys. In vulnerable and somewhat shameful situations such as Tindering we must go back to basics, to the stereotypes, the gender roles, the chivalry and all that our generation tries desperately to dismiss. Make a plan. You are allowed to ask the following of me: “What area do you live in?” and “Does BLANK day work for you?” After information has been gathered suggest a time and place and see if that works for me. Do not—DO NOT—whip out the, “So, do you have any ideas of where we could go?” You asked me out, so you make that plan—that goes for anyone, any gender, anywhere in the dating world. You ask, you plan. Second, I’m probably already a bit timid about meeting a stranger on a dating app so don’t make me work for it. Please. You—the guy—due to arbitrary reasons that go back hundreds of years, are supposed to take initiative, make the plan, and “court” me. I, the girl, risk foolishness and feeling pathetic when being the aggressor since it’s not expected of me, and I sure as hell don’t want to get all ballsy and forward-thinking, sexy, vixen-dominatrix with you on Tinder, of all places.
4. Steer Clear Of The Resurrection:
Clearly I’ve indulged in the app since its launch, and with that indulgence I’ve gained experience and experiences that have made me uncomfortable. There is one experience in particular that I will call the The Ressurection. I’ve Tindered, chatted, met, dated, and either lost interest or fell victim to the classic Houdini—that disappearing dude, who, regardless of how interested I was or wasn’t, never fails to stunt the ego. Anyway, once my love interest has vanished either by my doing or his, I’ve experienced (multiple times) his resurrection…on Tinder! It is one thing to come back to a distanced lover in the real world, text me, drunk calls, whatever, but to come back after we’ve real-person dated after meeting on Tinder, to then come back to me via Tinder is inexcusable. After I ignored a series of text messages from an ex-tinder lover, I received a Tinder message from said lover that read, “Hey how’s this Tinder thing working out for you?” Tinder is not another way to get in touch. It is not like Facebook chatting an ex. Seriously. Just don’t. Don’t resurface on Tinder.