About a month ago, I re-downloaded Tinder. Since then, I’ve been thinking about the whole concept of Tinder as an app. Through my deep thinking in the shower, I’ve come to the conclusion that Tinder, as it seems, is as addictive as a drug.
Okay, so maybe it isn’t purchased off the streets or in a dark alley, but it does have some similarities. Thousands of teenagers across Australia (and within 100km from my current location, might I add) are sitting up ’til the early hours of the morning while their eyes turn dry and red from inspecting profiles on Tinder, searching for ‘the one’.
People seem to have become addicted to the self esteem boost that we all get when we see that we have a new match from the hot guy with the washboard abs, who, let’s be honest, probably has hundreds of other matches. Whether we like to admit it or not, we play the game of Tinder as just that; a game.
We swipe to the right for people that are even remotely attractive to us and if we don’t see that ‘all empowering’ bubble that translates into “Hey! Congrats! Someone in the world thinks your profile picture is somewhat pretty!”, we become saddened. How ridiculous is that?
I mean, what is the actual purpose of Tinder anyway? To meet your soul mate, get married, build a house, have some kids and live happily ever after? No, because Tinder is not a dating app, it is a game. It’s a game that allows us to judge each other on the way we look. It’s a game that encourages girls to post pics of themselves with as much cleavage showing as possible. It’s a game that only wants guys to post pics of their muscles.
I myself have been sucked into this addiction. August last year, after a failed attempt at relationship, I was looking for validation, for something or someone to make me feel like I mattered and that I was attractive. So, I took the best looking photos of myself and made a Tinder profile. Within an hour I had a heap of matches.
However, I was surprised to find out that I didn’t really want to talk to any of the guys that I had matched with. Many of them sent me a message and of course I replied but I was soon bored by the small talk because, the problem is, all I wanted was the most matches.
When my best friends also got Tinder it became a silently bitchy competition and the worst thing is, we didn’t even realise it. When we got ourselves an attractive match, we would subtly brag about it. We’d screenshot all the ridiculous sexual pick up lines and laugh it off but in reality, we wanted that.
What I didn’t realise then but what I realise now is that when these guys asked for nudes or for a hook up, it again boosted the idea in our minds that we were what society deems ‘desirable’. And honestly, that’s the real purpose of tinder.
The people that designed and created tinder have made so much money off the fact that teenagers in today’s world are constantly seeking physical approval from anyone and everyone they can. Tinder just happens to be an easy way of getting that.
So teenagers download Tinder and we make small talk with our matches and we complain to our friends that there’s no decent guys or girls out there when we know that Tinder is never going to be the place that we find our Prince Charming. So why do we keep coming back?
About a month or so ago my best friend was talking to a guy she had met on Tinder and she had started to like him. What I noticed though, is whenever someone asked where she’d met him, she was always mortified to tell them that it was Tinder. Why? Because Tinder is not a dating app. It’s a game.
We keep coming back to this addictive app time and time again. I have re-downloaded Tinder about 4 times in the last year. Every time I do its because I am seeking that all consuming validation that can apparently only be filled from an attractive guy on Tinder liking my profile picture.
I’m addicted to Tinder as are thousands of teens around Australia and the world. Why? Because like a drug, using Tinder gives me a temporary fix to whatever is going on in my life. It’s like taking a stimulant drug. It’ll boost you for a while but once it starts to run out, you’ll be even worse than you were before.
We don’t need Tinder to make us feel beautiful. All we need is ourselves.