Tinder Statistics

Originally published on It’s Date Night

I’m kind of a yes person so I’m not half bad at getting other people to say yes to things they don’t really want to do, like say, download Tinder.

I’ve decided that 2015 will be a Tinder-free year. So why would I swear it off but still convince my girlfriends that it’s worth a shot? Let me tell you.

Why I Love Tinder:

One could say that this app has failed me, but I choose to see the silver lining in everything. For starters, I received an overwhelming amount of blog material from my experiences. I also met a handful of guys that I actually liked which was a big deal because my mother was starting to say, “What’s wrong with you? You don’t like ANYONE.”

It’s the easiest quickest most ridiculous way to start dating again.

Here are my statistics:

From October 2013 to present I have met 10 different men from Tinder.

* I dated 50% of them. Dated meaning I hung out with them for at least a month.

* 8/10 were nice human beings for the most part.

* 2/10 probably just wanted sex.

* 2/10 were fucking crazy.

One made that clear right away. See here.

The other only recently made me aware that I probably dodged a bullet. Sidenote: I don’t like the term “crazy” and I only use it on the most deserving of people. It makes me mad when men refer to other women as ‘crazy’. Just because she has EMOTIONS and probably drunk dialed you a few times after you broke her heart doesn’t mean she’s mental. It just means she’s human and has feelings. Also, it pisses me off how men’s exes are either classified as “crazy” or “sluts”. Grow up, or at least add a few more words to your vocabulary.

* 2/10 were really nice guys they just made me yawn and I couldn’t wait to go home and tidy my bedroom. That’s how little chemistry there was.

Those aren’t bad odds!

Remember that time I got stood up by the guy I was seeing and then got angry and drunk and impulsively downloaded eHarmony? Not my proudest moment. I’ll one day tell my children [probably fur babies] that all of these questionable decisions were for research purposes only.

Anyways I found something interesting: I’d say at least half of the guys that I matched with on eHarmony I also came across on Tinder. Proof that this shallow app isn’t just full of shallow people. If someone is willing to pay for online dating and take the time to fill out that ridiculously long survey, they’re serious about finding love. They’re like farmer Chris on the Bachelor kind of serious.

Reasons Why I Hate Tinder:

1. The whole idea of it is absurd. And it gives those promiscuous assholes easy access to nice girls like my friends who just want a free way to start meeting people and date again.

2. I always feel terrible about myself when I’ve wasted 45 minutes of my morning swiping right or left and judging men on their looks and/or grammar.

3. When I’m older and still madly in love with my man and we’re both still super hot and someone asks, “How did you two meet?” I REALLY don’t want to say “Tinder.”

When I started this blog a little while ago I had proudly stated that 2015 was going to be a tinder-free year.

Less than two weeks in I have failed.

Last Sunday afternoon I was hungover and bored and redownloaded it for the 11th time. Surprisingly, right away I matched with this hilarious 6’3 ginger who I’m actually excited to meet.

Even if you meet someone in “real life” you take a chance. They could be your future boyfriend. They could be your future ex boyfriend. You could end up hating them. Personally, I always look at it like this: Either this is going to be awesome or I’ll have another story to write about.

I’m going to leave you with three of my most fond memories brought to you by Tinder.

1. I’m sitting across from Bachelor #9. We hung out a couple more times after I sent him my skillfully crafted “I don’t see this going any further for me” text. We were chatting and I told him that he had spoiled me when we were dating. He argues that he didn’t. “I just brought you food all of the time.”

I playfully responded, “Oh ___, you know the way to my heart.”

Head hanging he says, “Obviously I don’t Katie.”


2. Why Bachelor #8 became part of my 2/10 crazy statistic:

This sums up our communication post dating:

“Come over.” No. “Wanna bang?” No. “Wanna get naked?” Sure, I’ve had a stressful morning. “Come over.” No. “I hate you.” “Come over.” No. “I want a girlfriend in 2015.” Stop booty calling me then. “Nice knowing ya.” “Come over.”No. “I’m done with you.” “Come over.” No. “You offer nothing.” I feel like coming over this time. “No-delete my number”. FINE.

Can you just make up your mind please?

3. And 1st place still goes to Bachelor #3 who invited me to go camping with his friends, never showed up to get me, and thought it was appropriate to text me 4 months later to see if I wanted to grab coffee or a glass of wine.

Happy swiping. May the odds be ever in your favor.


Seventeen Didn’t Last Forever

If having a boyfriend was a skill, I used to be pretty good at it. I was good at finding them, keeping them, and not ever making them too mad. Things always, without fail, would progress from crush to boyfriend. Remember when there was always a great guy to tell your friends about?

Things are a little different now. We spend the majority of our time deciphering text messages and cringing at the selection of people on tinder. I go on dates with guys who think it’s okay to call me baby after 45 minutes. It’s not.

I’d like to share just how smitten and perfect my love life was at seventeen. Prepare to be sick. When I moved last summer I found a box full of notes from an ex-boyfriend that my mother had failed to throw out when a decade ago, in tears, I had ordered her to burn them. Here are some excerpts:

I picked up a note titled: Happy 2 Months! He tells me that the picture I gave him of myself–the 2003 version of a selfie–is in a silver frame with a red heart sitting above his bed. Then this: “I think I would go on a few double dates at least until I start getting made fun of really really bad. I’m entering uncharted territory with you Katie, so I apologize in advance for when I do something stupid. I just hope we can keep having a good time and who knows what will happen. Wherever we end up, I hope we’re both still really, really ridiculously good looking.”

For our 2 month anniversary I also received a crayon colored coupon book that allowed me several back massages–20 minutes max–and multiple sexual favors which I checked off every time they were redeemed. There is no check mark on the last page which was a “FREE coupon of KT’s choice”

Shit, why didn’t I use that?

There’s nothing written about an expiry date…

His fiance would not appreciate that joke.

But seriously what a great gift! Who wouldn’t want a coupon book full of sexual favors that you could redeem whenever you wanted? I had it pretty good back then.

Then I picked up a break up note. “I miss everything about you Katie, especially making you laugh. I wanna be with you, but you don’t trust me anymore and more importantly I don’t trust myself. Your feelings are way more important than mine; you have been hurt enough and it would be selfish of me to try and make this work again. I’m sorry I said things that I could not back up. Thank you for being the best girlfriend a guy could ask for. I didn’t deserve you. I hope you find someone who does.”

That is actually a really nice apology. Like, way nicer than any apology or explanation I’ve gotten from anyone since.

Then of course we got back together and there were a lot of notes with promises not to give up on each other. This one I probably showed all of my friends: “For some reason whenever I watch Newly Weds I always think of us. Maybe because we’re also really hot…” He was a bit full of himself. But then again I’m the one who framed a picture of myself. Not of the two of us, just myself. “…but I always get this tingly feeling about us getting married. I know, weird, I’ll stop there. I love you Katie. You’re 99% of my heart. (Ya gotta have 1% for other stuff).”

In a time before cell phones or cars and when we still had our virginity in tact, there were exciting notes like this one: “Even though I’m nowhere near having enough money to buy a car I’m sure excited about it! Then we could make out in the back, or something like that. I love you; I was so happy when I realized that I did (smiley face). Now all we have left to do is just chill and make each other laugh and have sex…I guess..I’m not really sure what that is (winky face) but I hear it’s okay. We’ll see. I don’t want to yet and neither do you so that’s cool. We can talk about it again at 6 months!”

I just miss the simplicity of my first slightly cocky boyfriend and I. Doesn’t that sound like the perfect relationship? You realize you love each other and then you can just chill, make each other laugh, and have lots of sex. “I love you” meant all you had to do was keep making each other laugh. Now “I love you” is often followed by a whole ton of questions and fears.

What was nice about being seventeen and in love was that there was never any doubt in my mind that he was who I wanted to be with. We weren’t thinking about where we were headed or whether or not we had the same values. It didn’t matter if our vision for what we wanted our lives to look like ten years later matched up. I didn’t have a list of must-haves that needed checking off and neither of us had any baggage. We just had crushes on each other, decided to date, declared that we were in love, and that was enough.

It wasn’t until I was twenty four and dated my first older guy that I was slapped in the face when our little crush didn’t effortlessly turn into a happy relationship. But what he said was perfectly true and accurate: “We’re just too different.”

We were. But that never seemed to matter before. Before being a decade ago when we were all young and innocent and no one had hurt us yet. Now I have friends tell me that if for some reason their happy long term relationship didn’t work out, they would have no clue how to navigate the world I live in.

I’ll admit that as much fun as I’m having navigating this hook up culture and world of dating apps, sometimes I miss being seventeen. You weren’t afraid to give someone 100%, or in my ex’s words, 99% of your heart. Where is this going?didn’t matter. We took things slow in all the right ways and went too fast in the best of ways. We poured our hearts out on lined paper and sticky notes. It was a time where love actually was enough and kissing in cars was the best thing ever.