We are in the season of great fruits and vegetables, so I thought I’d share a favorite dating app message collected by a (very lucky!) friend from a truly creative suitor:
Yes, that introduction worked and the wedding is garden-themed.
Just to be clear (since I’m not sure the screenshot is), this person is not single and has posted a photo of a torso in the hopes of finding someone to please. Makes perfect sense, right?
Photo-editing aside, whichever suited suitor in the photo this summary is for, he already enjoys the company of “an older woman.” Why go on Match.com then? Possibly to talk about his supposed gym routine…maybe no one in real life (including said “older woman”) wants to hear about his daily fitness and employment patterns.
I guess I just wanted to point out that these are two more examples of individuals who are looking for something very specific, most likely not on Bumble or Match.com. I don’t know the correct places for them to go to suit their headless or older woman needs, but it definitely is not either of the places I found them.
It’s official. Facebook is now getting into online dating.
This is kind of weird to me, considering that every dating app I know about cuts right into your Facebook information as it is. Oh, but wait:
“You won’t see anyone you’re already friends with on Facebook, nor will you see people you’ve blocked.”
I want guaranteed proof that this will not happen. I feel like most apps have prevented me with people I never ever ever want to see again, let alone talk to or date – so this is quite an advantage.
Hmmm — “By utilizing the trove of data it already has about users, Facebook has the ability to become a powerful player in the online dating space.”
Didn’t they just get breached? Like really, really screwed? Is this really the time for “going steady” with dating?
It just rolled out in Colombia, and I’m praying for all of those who use it.
The Dateline episode is already being developed in my mind.
As soon as I became familiar with the swiping feature of Tinder, I was hooked. It was not until several people in my life referred to the app as a “hook-up” tool that I started to realize that telling guys that I wanted to be in a relationship was just not the way Tinder worked. If you break the functionality of Tinder down, it’s essentially just online shopping for people – based solely on appearances, the way the Lord intended. Which is why it is really amusing to me that they have been embroiled in a lot of legal issues as of late.
Yep, Bumble is using Tinder’s “stolen trade secrets.” I’ve discussed Bumble before, but it is worth it to mention that yes, it is a carbon copy of Tinder. That doesn’t stop anyone from using it, though. The more swiping for hook-ups the better, no?
It’s fascinating that there are so many people fighting one another for substantial funds generated from an app that essentially made the dick pic an acceptable introduction to potential dates.
Don’t we have other issues to address as a society? My role models at Bravo don’t really think so, but they are not the majority.
Everyone just needs to chill out and… look for a hook-up on Tinder or something.
Give me swiping abilities or give me death!
A wise reality star once said, “I wouldn’t recommend dating if you’re on the fringe of sanity.” And I tell ya – Shepard Rose (“Shep”) speaks the truth. He certainly doesn’t seem like he knows much of anything, but that’s a darn good phrase to live by.
I guess most people that are a bit confused, or close to insane will not acknowledge it. And I guess that’s what makes Loveflutter, a timely dating app that uses big data and analytics, so promising. The main gist of Loveflutter is that it uses actual words that you have said (typed) on your Twitter feed to match you up with like-minded singles, thus working with the logic that social media posts truly represent the essence of people. I get it – Tinder, etc is completely superficial, basing matches off of photos only, while other sites will survey and have you fill out bios ad nauseum that never seem to really get used for anything. Loveflutter digs into your social thoughts and makes matches that way. It’s new and different, but I just don’t really buy that it is as promising as this article claims.
“Effective” is a word I would use to describe a skin cream or pad training for my dog – not necessarily for a dating app, so I was already a disbeliever when reading the headline of this post. I also distinctly remember viewing and reaching out to different Twitter users on my own if I found them to be interesting. Isn’t that what the kids already refer to as “Sliding into the ‘DM'”? The innovation on this app must be super-impressive, possibly because they use “AI” and “NLP” acronyms enough to get greedy techies way too excited.
Also, you have to be a Twitter user who actually posts things AND you can’t utilize these amazing feats in artificial intelligence and compatibility measurement unless you have an iPhone*! I’d say that a large percentage of the single population is already missing out…
I would love someone to tell me that I’m completely wrong. Contrary to what you must be thinking, I don’t know everything (but thanks for the compliment!) It’s an idea that is different from a host of very stale, excruciating match-making models and devices, so maybe it does have some kind of a success rate.
Please educate me! Until then, I will be working on my Shep quote collage.
* My vast research resulted in an additional Loveflutter app that is available on both Android and iOS devices. Seems just like Tinder with a different name, and basically just makes dating even more confusing and annoying. According to this , Loveflutter BLUE is the “premium,” Twitter-verified version of the original, fake Tinder. All of this information makes me even more confused. Not a good look for a dating app, eh?
This story is hilarious, and I’m glad the woman who experienced this was able to laugh about it. I’ve tried to find the exact words to tell clueless morons how ridiculous they are without looking like the proverbial “bitter single girl.” Never worked for me —
The things that people say behind the protection of an electronic screen, huh?
How about this amazing individual who took his introduction to my single female cousin as an invitation to make her a victim in a horror movie?
Are you still asking why online dating is not fun and a huge pain in the butt, as well as emotionally draining?!
Okay, fine – here’s another one that gave me a giggle. I sincerely hope it is real:
More where that came from – stay tuned!
Sean traveled to Manhattan from the middle of the New Jersey suburbs to meet me for our first blind date at a little Italian restaurant that I had chosen. And I know I say this about so many other people, but Sean really and truly was (and maybe still is?) a good guy. It was definitely me who kept him away after our second date.
During our first date, I vaguely remember suggesting several different appetizers for us to share – including mozzarella cheese, stuffed mushrooms, and possibly something seafood-related. He looked at me like I was crazy for each suggestion, and I believe we ended up sharing an order of fried calamari. His entree was a fairly simple pasta dish and he ate it very slowly. As he examined every morsel that went into his mouth, I started to ask him about food that he actually enjoys. I mentioned different types of cuisines to see if he would have any sort of positive reaction:
Me: Mexican? Tacos? Burritos?
Sean: (tongue sticks out, appalled) Oh man – definitely not.
Me: Any type of seafood, besides calamari?
Sean: Ew, gross!
Sean: Yeah, that’s what I eat pretty much every day. But nothing on them.
Me: Not even condiments? Ketchup?
Sean: ABSOLUTELY NO KETCHUP – I hate it. And nothing else.
Me: So just a plain burger on a bun…do you like cheese?
Sean likes plain burgers, plain pasta and possibly some calamari (although I probably devoured that by myself).
At some point, he mentioned that he was a very simple “meat and potatoes kind of guy” so when he asked to see me again in Manhattan, I suggested Keens – a very well-known steakhouse that I had wanted to try for a long time. He seemed okay with Keens. He wasn’t over-the-moon like I was to be anywhere that was considered a classic. Yet he seemed content enough to order a steak. Like any nice meal, his steak had some random vegetables on it and I pointed out that the cherry tomatoes looked good. At that point, I think he was really trying to make me happy. He put the tiny tomato in his mouth and immediately spit it out. He was mortified. Flushed and tearing, shaking his head and sticking his tongue out, he glanced at me and I’m pretty sure I saw a little contempt in his eyes. I guess he wasn’t ready for a tomato.
Once I licked my plate clean of whatever I had been gratefully served, we exited the restaurant. Sean texted me later that night to let me know he had made it home (to the burbs) safely. I thanked him for a lovely time, and he said, “Yeah, I enjoyed it. But you made me eat a tomato.” It was like I committed murder and it was confusing to actually experience some guilt about something so ridiculously insignificant.
I have no idea why Sean asked me to hang out again. I had to turn him down. I love food too much for that sort of anxiety and trepidation to be repeated.
As you know, I often skip around the timelines of my illustrious dating life to talk about some of my experiences when I feel most capable of explaining every detail. Lately, I’ve been in a deep funk of frustration and it seems that no one on the other end of my Wifi can figure out how to keep a conversation going…if they are capable of even starting one. It has come to the point that when someone messages me and says, “What kind of dog do you have?” as their introduction, my go-to answer is now “Oh, he’s a Go f*ck yourself… EVER HEAR OF THAT breed!!!??” I know…it’s mean…but look what I have to deal with:
Check out this sultry intro:
Then there’s…Mister Mr. Oh, you did read that correctly. I enjoyed this guy’s inflated ego almost as much as his screen name. Unfortunately, I think the irony goes unnoticed by him. It also pains me to think that he had to steal jokes from everyone under the sun to put together his uninspired bio:
The hot dog reference is from one of the best scenes of “Father of the Bride” and needs to remain there. He also messed up the numbers of hot dogs and buns in the joke, but I’m not really surprised about that. I hope you know what I mean. It’s like when a crappy cover band performs one of your favorite songs of all time and does it horribly. Don’t mess with classic feature film comedy, dude.
So, as I was thinking fondly about the actual movie (“Who’s George Banks?!?”), Mister Mr noticed that I checked out said bio and sent me this “message”:
Oh yeah…totally making it happen. I don’t know how he’d fit me into his busy schedule of “having sex” and “finding Waldo.” I bet he does make it happen with some women who think he’s a charming, direct New Yorker, and those women have even less of a clue than I do. That’s why I don’t feel guilty about telling you he’s a comedic thief.
I hope you, my fair readers, at least remember the amazing 80s band by an almost identical name: Mr. Mister. They created this work of genius:
“Broken Wings” stuck in your head now? Good, it is a classic. You are welcome.
There are many times when I wonder if it is just me…am I the only one receiving the weirdest messages from the most disturbed individuals on the Internet? Or am I the one that is too critical and not giving the right people a chance?
Then I hear from my cousin and somehow everything equalizes. A very smart and beautiful female of a similar age who works full-time, living in a different region* of the U.S., she often finds some real winners as well. Here are some that she has shared with me, instead of deleting immediately and setting her profile, phone and computer on fire, which is typically my first instinct:
What would they chat about? His own personal daddy issues?
And then…what? She vomits?
Maybe it is in our blood…some sort of pull that we have on the crazy. Here’s a recent text exchange we had:
* This post is dedicated to the people who tell me how my dating issues would be solved if I left New York. Uh huh.