For better or worse, today’s world is full of social media sites and apps designed to romantically–or in some cases physically–connect two people who otherwise would not have crossed paths. Ranging from websites like eHarmony and Match.com to apps such as Tinder and OKCupid, matchmaking has become an industry in and of itself. As much as we all love The Notebook, most women are pretty certain they won’t bump into their prince charming next to the Ferris wheel at a country fair. Neither of us had dabbled with any virtual matchmaking apps, but when friends of ours were baffled that we had never heard of Hinge, we decided to check it out and see what all the talk was about. Our thoughts? Lana’s Summertime Saddness would have nothing on us…bring on the eligible bachelors because, in this 21st century of disconnected hook up after hook up, why not?
Hinge’s catchy tagline, “Meet People You’ll Actually Click With,” is based on the fact that it connects you to others around you not just based on geographic location, but rather through mutual Facebook friends. Furthermore, it allows you to add in some fun facts about yourself. Opposed to apps like Tinder, others can make a judgment based off (somewhat) more than a headshot or profile picture (no matter how fun, beach babe the number two out of 10 chosen pictures makes you look). The app claims that it will help you meet the right people for you, specifically “the types of people your friends might introduce you to, but haven’t had the chance.” The types of people your friends might introduce to, but haven’t had the chance. This line, witty and easily grabbing, couldn’t keep Liz from doling out comments about the app’s veracity: if my friends haven’t already introduced me, then why would I want to meet them via an ambiguous application, without my friend by my side to boost my confidence, provide witty jokes, or to sneak away in the archetypal “hit the bathroom and run” romantic comedy scene?
Sarcastic chastisement aside, we decided to take Hinge for its word, claiming that its aware that there are only so many parties and weddings. By taking into consideration the fast-paced, work-heavy lifestyle today’s millennials live in, it speeds up the process of connecting you to potentially romantic partners from your various extended social circles.
Being newbies with all things related to virtual dating, we walked one another through the profile set up. And in true gendered fashion, we just had to make sure we each had ample time to dissect all visible profile pictures for everything from the quintessential sweaty frat-scene background to discussing what “that red cup” truly says about our ability to have a good time: was it too high school or just chill enough to show that we can “hang?” When downloading Hinge, you immediately give the app access to your basic Facebook information such as education, age, profile picture, and of course, friend list. You can then add in “tags” that describe yourself i.e. writer or wine-lover (two that we personally both used). Rearranging profile pictures to show our best features because we all know that even Mark Zuckerburg himself doesn’t always have the most datable four by six shot on his page, we moved on to matching. Let the games begin. You are given a literal “batch” of men that you can flip through and can either “heart” (for which, we will use the hip typing of “<3”) or “X.” If you “X” the guy, you will never see him again and if you both mutually “<3” each other you are a match and will be given the opportunity to chat through the app. Sounds easy enough, right? So we thought. Shooting texts back and forth with screenshots of our potential men, we would type phrases like “I’ll be so upset if he doesn’t like me back” with a subtle, common friendly response from one another of “you just never know.” And let us tell you, we sure did not know.
We’ll be straightforward: we loved it in the beginning. It was fun seeing your matches, chatting, and receiving a new batch everyday, in addition to being notified that “someone in today’s batch has already favorited you!” As if anyone made meeting and mingling that easy in Slutty D’s basement or at closing time (cue Semisonic) of Bull Run. Did we get a few numbers, have some witty conversations, and ultimately “connect” with some new guys in the greater New York City area? Yes. However, the feeling of excitement didn’t last long. That quintessential butterflies-in-the-stomach, eagerness of a potential fling had a shorter lifespan than we expected in the realm of Hinge app dating (if it could even be called “dating”).
If we do say so ourselves, we were no doubt being matched with some cuties, but in some cases the fine line between the c’s of creepy and cute was quickly blurred. “Tell me a secret about yourself” ended what had been a rather pleasant conversation with one match to forward “where are you right now” messages made Hinge feel a lot more like your drunk friend on a quest to reunite last Saturday night. We’re still hailing Mary’s that Hinge doesn’t offer direct latitude and longitude coordinates to our matches. With new batches out every day at 12 pm, there was a glimpse of summertime hope as we <3’d or X’d, creating fictional fantasies out of the miniscule profile picture and bio combo offered upon served. And fantasies were just that.
We willingly admit that this dating thing, as the cool kids call it, is a two way street, and perhaps we didn’t take enough of a jump when interested in a potential suitor. However, the experiences continued to get weirder and weirder, not to mention as the hours of the night quickly ticked towards morning once again. Disney taught us at a young age that “it’s a small world after all,” and in the same chord sung by The Disneyland Chorus, Hinge made it seem as just small as this very campus in Lewisburg, PA. One evening, we, both of different interests, varied Facebook friends, and differing past <3’s and X’s on the men we were served at 12 pm, received identical--and extremely cheesy--pick-up lines from the same guy through Hinge’s chat feature. Picking two of our qualities on the bio that Hinge makes you create attempted to begin conversation with a variation of, “World traveler and ski bum? Definitely love at first swipe.” To that, we laughed and turned our nightly sip of Chardonnay into a bit of a gulp remembering the reality of our little experiment and why we are still both single: quite simply, people are weird.
In the calmer sphere of the Hinge world, the majority of cases would result in a mutual <3’s without any follow-up chat. We learned quite quickly that Hinge’s intriguing suggestion upon being matched that you should “Nudge” a potential suitor to express your interest is the equivalent of a stranger poking you in Zuckerburg’s Facebook world. As you can imagine, that first nudge for Liz as a trial and error to learn resulted in quite the ended or moreover, non starter of a relationship. Note to potential Hinge users: if you wouldn’t nudge in real life, don’t nudge via your phone either. Nevertheless, was it still nice to know you had been mutually <3’d? Of course! But after two weeks we found ourselves going through our daily batches less and less and at times even forgetting about the app altogether.
Kids, it’s the 21st century, and there’s no denying it – gender constructs are a thing, especially here at Bucknell where fraternities host parties making females hop from place to place, and men and women barely integrate at the Bison where estrogen flows as freely as the quinoa on Tuesdays. Thinking that we are in a dawning of a new age and members of the ever discussed Generation Y, we assumed that gender constructs would dissipate as the barriers of physical distance vanished while using an application on our phones. The truth, however, proved otherwise as we each felt the need to wait for the man to message us, and in the small number of cases in which we messaged first, the men did not respond. We found ourselves questioning not only the complex of what this means (and the meaning of life of course) but also what this shows us about our generation regarding gender and dating? Does the man always have to be first? Go ahead, try out app-dating and let us know.
Now, don’t go chasing waterfalls…just kidding…but don’t go tell your friends about how much Marg and Liz couldn’t handle a dating app and how horrible it was. The truth is, we’re willing to try whatever the app wizards of Silicon Valley throw at us because four years in the ’Burg has proven to be a tad difficult in finding love at first keg. But we cannot help but elevate the question, would these relationships truly expand outside the confines of Hinge, as boys did in fact ask for our real numbers but the texts came and went as fast as platform sneakers. As of now, we have put our Hinge haze aside and are focusing on life beyond the app here at Bucknell. Would we continue using it upon entering the daunting “real world” in May? Personally, no. But to Hinge’s chagrin, we plan on going a bit against its initial instructions and wait for that next wedding or birthday party to meet potential Hinge people in the flesh and see if the spark is really there. Until then, the Hinge binge proved just that: a binge, “a short period devoted to indulging in an activity to excess.” And with that, we hold down the application on our iPhones until the little white icon wiggles, click delete, and wave goodbye to what could have been and wasn’t this summer.