4 Massive Faults Fellas Help to make within The dating profiles for men
When I see myself repeating the same match for the twentieth time, the question is always the same: why?
I’m 24, single and live in a big city, so I’m looking for a soul mate where a third of people my age look for her: on the internet.
This means that in the three years I spent here I have looked at thousands of profiles of single people and open couples on Tinder, OKCupid, Bumble, Feeld, Happn, Hinge and more in hopes of finding a semi-continuous and semi-serious partner. . I’ve had varying degrees of success, even dating for long periods with some people I met on apps, but in the end I always went back to re-downloading Tinder. Scrolling through the seemingly endless series of accounts, perhaps the craziest thing (after the shitty approaches) is seeing the same faces again, year after year. The phenomenon serves to remind me that we are all still single anyway, and this makes us a bit part of a big family.
The first person I met on OKCupid in New York was Sarah. She was a bartender, she was very beautiful and funny. We got along and went out for a while. But at one point I thought our lives weren’t 100 percent compatible, and so I stopped responding to her (like a good bitch). His photo on social media still passes before my eyes once or twice a month, and it makes me feel terrible. Sometimes we chat. “Do you have really short hair now?” he asked me recently. “Yeah, we haven’t seen each other in a while,” I replied. A few weeks ago I matched for the third or fourth time on Tinder with a man I had only dated once, and who made a comment on my “new” tattoo. “You didn’t have it before,” he said. I’ve had it for a year, but apparently we haven’t seen each other for a while.
Along these lines, there’s a guy who invited me to the bar he worked at, and then to several events he played at, but never on a real date. In real life we got lost, but we still follow each other on Instagram. This week, I saw a girl my friends and I had already met on a Sunday afternoon in a bar. Nothing clicked that day, and we hadn’t looked for each other again — but then last week I saw his OKCupid profile, and yesterday his Tinder profile. There’s the girl I matched with on four different dating apps, but then we were both too embarrassed to take the first step. And another one with whom I tried to disappear after three dates, and that the time he saw me in public made me a hit. I almost forgot about her until I saw her for the third time on Tinder the other day.
Some online dating are more painful than others. For example, I recently saw a girl who never answered the phone after the second date, and with whom I was still a little in love. My standard response to rejection is to convince myself that the other person has met someone else, better than me — often not true. Seeing her on the dating app threw the truth in my face: she hadn’t met anyone better than me, she just didn’t like me enough.
But perhaps even worse are the archetypes that repeat themselves over and over again: hundreds of “curators” and students of graphics; a foolish number of men claiming to work for VICE (they all ignored my messages); finance people; over-worked “creative”; bartenders playing in indie bands; women who transcend the sad girl aesthetics by writing in their bio “dead inside but still horny”, with blurry or distant photos to show that they are intellectual.
Another exciting category: people who matched me but never met. “Do you remember me?” is the gif I’m using the most on Tinder. “We’ve matched up so many times that I think it’s time to meet,” I told a girl on OKCupid a couple of weeks ago. He didn’t answer — he will never answer, but we will continue to match. I once invited a girl out and was told, “We’ve matched a million times but you never asked me out, so no.”
When I see myself repeating the same match for the twentieth time, even after we have gone out, the analysis is triggered in my brain: why didn’t it work? In his book Modern Romance Aziz Ansari argues that it’s because we don’t even give ourselves the time and opportunity to try. “Most people don’t want to start a serious relationship right after meeting someone,” says a study in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology that Ansari cites. It happens little by little, when a spark turns a casual relationship, or friendship, into a serious one that involves sex.
But the endless possibilities that dating apps offer make it more difficult. Too much has already been said about the “McDonaldization of love life” —in which speed and efficiency matter more than anything. And while I don’t think Tinder is causing a relationship apocalypse, I do think we should put hearts or discard profiles a little slower, give ourselves another chance to get to know each other better, and invest more. Just because there are a thousand other people you can get to know when you discard a few a priori, doesn’t mean you can’t give a second chance to one you’ve already met. Maybe she’ll make you delete your Tinder profile.