So I put on my knee-high suede boots and my new contour stick and was feeling very powerful.
Most obviously, I like that you can stalk your prey from the comfort of your bed.
For Tinder dates I dress up, I meet the guy for a drink at like p.m., and then we have a real, uninterrupted conversation. Whereas if you meet someone out at a bar or a party, you’re with a group of people, it’s loud, and you’re probably drunk.
And sure, apps have downsides—it’s annoying when you can’t tell someone’s height, or if their voice sounds like a squeaky toy.
I love my mom, regardless of her wretchedly generalized advice. Meeting a potential suitor in your favorite watering hole is actually one of the better options these days.
Striking up a chat with a stranger over Moscow mules seems, to me, like a preferable option to sitting on the couch for two hours, haphazardly swiping left on your i Phone or scrolling through dating profiles all night.
looked familiar, only to suddenly remember that I’d already slept with him. And then I had a crazy idea—why not just walk out into the actual world and see if a real-life human being wants to have sex with me? I’ll preface my war story by saying that I am very pro-dating app, for multiple reasons.
Little did I know the horror I was about to put myself through.
Normally, we go to bars on weekends, with great big groups of friends.
This is the stuff that brunch stories are made of, but not always the best way to meet people (if you’re looking to meet people).
I gave him a quick glance, decided he was pretty cute in his button-down flannel and cowboy boots, and walked up to say hello.