“Eccentric” fails to capture the men of Tinder. They like dogs. They can quote The Office. They eat food. They are not like the rest of us, and therefore require a girl of a certain quality. A girl able to rise above the curse of her basic, homogeneous gender. Someone, dare I say, Not Like Most Girls. Only a woman of this caliber could satisfy the conditions of Tyler, 18, aspiring pro skateboarder. Swipe left if you hate dogs, can’t chill, and have any desire to ever orgasm. Intimidated by the massive fish Lathan caught last summer, you question your worthiness. He’s familiar not only with the sacred words of Michael Scott, but Ron Swanson as well. His highschool girlfriend looks stunning in their prom photos from three years ago: “3rd pic could be u ;)” he promises, but hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like you to have.
Jarrett shows off his elite sense of humor with an uncropped meme screenshotted from Instagram screenshotted from Twitter.
“Yeah, I’m a gamer…. if you don’t like it, frig off…” You frig off. Not because gaming bothers you (you’re chill, unlike most girls), but because Trent is 5’11,” and you have standards.
“I am a very relaxed person.” You suspect Alan, a security officer, may not be a very relaxed person.
Another serial killer Superlikes you. Though 90% of the men on this app blow your simple, desperate mind, you can spot the occasional killer because they always Superlike you. Why does anyone use this feature, you ask yourself, swiping through the profile of live-action Sid from Toy Story out of morbid curiosity. An Office reference piques your attention (you are a woman of culture), but oh god, he refers to himself in the third person and OH GOD, his anthem is “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana. He wants to hunt you like the ducks hanging from his camo belt in his second picture. Swipe left.
Logyn includes his mugshot because he’s cool, but you still left swipe. You’re too intimidated by his sick music taste: Brockhampton, Tame Impala, Tyler, The Creator, Post Malone, and Khalid? You can’t name five songs off any of their albums, and you know he’ll ask.
How will I ever find something real, you wonder, right as the algorithm known as Fate plucks Chunt from the queue and his pasty face illuminates your cracked iPhone X. Chunt goes to WashU and looks like he could be one of Mitt Romney’s kids (not to be redundant). He’s “6’1 “since that apparently matters,” includes pics of his dog, and has your favorite Dwight quote in his bio. He likes pasta, wants to lie about how you met, and his bio says your mom specifically will love him! This is the corn-fed, too-good-for-Tinder boy you’ve been swiping for. It’s a match.