A real message sent to Courtney on Hinge. Clearly, somebody remembers their SAT vocabulary.
On Sept. 28 my mother called me. It was one of those phone calls, you know the kind, where your mother berates your latest article for reading as “boy crazy,” and then asks you what you are going to do about finding a boyfriend, and “when are you going to get married?” I enjoy these calls. The topic of conversation between us that afternoon was usual and regarding my lack of a boyfriend. (She’s worried that if I don’t lock down a husband soon I will likely die alone.) To an extent, her fears are valid. If I remain single much longer she won’t be able to post wedding pictures of her daughter on Facebook. Those photos would do numbers with her Facebook friends. I would be a terrible daughter if I denied her those wedding photos.
These sorts of conversations are typical between my mom and I — I like to think that we share the belief that life is more interesting when there’s a healthy dose of drama. Does my mother love me regardless of whether a man does? …Maybe. But would it make both of our lives so much more interesting if I had a strapping beau to parade around family functions? Yes.
That night, I sat on my ugly green couch, cracked open a can of LaCroix, reflected on just how safe and healthy my life had become, and realized what I needed to do. I downloaded Hinge. Hold your applause. Please.
The idea of downloading any dating app has always been terrifying to me. There is nothing I would hate more than to be discovered on a dating app by a classmate. But then you get to thinking and fear of boredom quickly outweighs the fear of discovering your classmates on a dating app (something that will happen immediately and that you will never get used to). The fear of joining a dating app quickly vanishes when you realize it’s basically just Instagram 2.0 for single people. The app functions as a new form of social media where people send you likes and tell you you’re pretty, and this ends up doing wonders for your self esteem. Who needs academic validation when you have the validation of single men in your area!
Not only is Hinge a flattering app, but it also serves as the best conduit to getting fun stories to tell your friends. One reason I call myself a writer despite my lack of writing is because anytime anything happens in my life (the more humiliating the better) I can’t help but think about how desperately I want to write about the experience. If I meet someone on Hinge and don’t have fun on the date, it’s a guarantee that I will enjoy telling my friends all about it when it’s over. Everyone who has Hinge has a Hinge story. This makes Hinge my new favorite app.
I want to take a moment to recognize that this piece will reek of my narrow perspective and sweeping generalizations. I recognize that men don’t have it so easy on these apps, thoughts and prayers, #staystrong — but at the end of the day, womp womp. I have realized that so many guys just have no clue what they are doing. No wonder guys struggle so much on apps, they aren’t practiced in the way of properly presenting themselves the same ways that girls are because (trigger warning: sweeping generalization), both on the internet and real life, God forbid a woman ever present herself as anything less than her best. On Hinge you see how out of touch and out of practice men are with packaging their persona for the consumption of people other than themselves.
For example: if you spend 30 seconds browsing on Hinge, you will see countless profiles that answer prompts with things that frame themselves through nothing more than their passion for day drinking, hating their “toxic ex,” smoking weed, or recounting how their Sundays are typically spent recovering from a vicious hangover. As a college student, I believe you are entitled to your vices. But utilizing these vices to frame and define your essence in the search of a Hinge-Whatever is a flawed strategy. It’s entertaining for me, but it’s a joke that gets tiring very quickly. Much like Leslie Gore sang in her hit song: “Sometimes I wish I were a boy” — because it’s literally not even that hard to make an attempt of effort and a little ends up going such a long way. If I were a man, none of your relationships would be safe.
Okay, enough of me generalizing the plight of man. Let’s get back to just me. Sadly, I won’t be going into any detail regarding my Hinge endeavors in this piece (I need to stash away some stories for my highly anticipated memoir). Instead I really want to just raise some general discoveries I have made about Hinge as someone who has never been on a dating app before.
Discovery #1: Before you adjust your age filters, lots of 25 year olds will be sending you likes despite the fact that your profile says you are 19. It won’t change unless you specify that you don’t want that. It’s flattering to a certain extent, but at the end of the day, if you have graduated college, you shouldn’t really be dating a 19 year old. Age is just a number but so is 9-1-1.
Discovery #2: I cannot go to any ice cream shop or cafe without thinking about how many people are there to meet their Hinge matches. It’s a secret world hidden in plain sight. Next time you settle down at a coffee shop to get some work done, put on your headphones but don’t turn any music on. Use this time to eavesdrop on your coffee table neighbor and you will soon realize that the person sitting across from them hadn’t met them until 10 minutes prior when they first sat down to join them at the table.
Hinge might very well be the second circle of hell, but it has really opened my eyes to the current culture of dating that exists beyond the expectations of what dating has looked like for such a long time. At the end of the day, the saddest thing about dating apps is the fact that Nora Ephron isn’t with us today to recontextualize the new normal of dating culture in the Hollywood genre of romantic comedy film. RIP Nora Ephron, you would’ve loved Hinge.