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My Friends Made Me A Tinder and I Don’t Know How I Feel

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at CNU chapter.

Let me preface this by saying that I love my friends. Honestly, I never knew I’d find such a great group of women to call my squad at college, and the fact that I can talk to these women about literally everything is more than anything I could ever imagine I’d have.

So, to bring it to the point: They made me a Tinder.

Well, two of the four of us didn’t have one. So, naturally, the two that did made it their mission to make us profiles. It was a Thursday night, the season premiere of Grey’s, and we were enjoying a few glasses of moscato at my one friend’s apartment, but I was not nearly as buzzed as the other three (I have a 9am, I’m not about to miss class because I have a hangover, yah know?). Of course, my one friend readily agreed to have a profile made for her, and now she’s loving it. She’s messaged a few guys and loves swiping through to find a new one to look at. But me? Not so much.

Photo Courtesy of Unsplash

I mean, it’s pretty funny sometimes. I’m confused a lot. Why do people use such low quality photos? What kind of person would swipe right for another person who just posts pictures of cars and abs? Like, I’m not on there because I really care, but of course my sociological mind has a bunch of questions as to why people act the way they do on Tinder.

Then again, I’m not sure that what Tinder is meant for/used for matches my interests anyways.

My one friend says I swipe too fast. And, I’ll admit, I swipe like that in front of her just because I know it makes her mad. But, also, if looking at your first picture doesn’t make me hesitate, why should I even give you the time of day? Also, I’m not stupid: the photos of you holding dogs doesn’t fool me much. Hello, Slytherin here. Manipulation is the name of my game, homie.

I also laugh because I’ve seen like ten guys I went to high school with on there and I can’t help it. I remember everyone when we were all scrawny freshmen (well, I was pretty squishy but whatever), and I just bust out laughing.

Photo Courtesy of Unsplash

My friends have decided they’re going to swipe for me because they don’t trust me to do it myself. I’m just dreading the moment someone gets a notification they have a new match because my friends swiped right on a guy they think is good for me and decides to message me —

Except then I wonder why I haven’t deleted it. Like, if it isn’t something I really care about, if it isn’t something I’m interested in, why do I still have it on my phone? It sends me little tips about how to message people, how to up my matches, like those are important things I need to be aware of in my life.

Maybe I’ve kept it because my friend did such a bomb-ass job on my Bio.

Or maybe it’s something else. I’m not sure. What I am sure of is I was so bored the other night I spent twenty minutes swiping through photos of guys who don’t seem to understand that a selfie of you showing off your abs and having bad grammar in your bio is not going to make quality women like you. Or maybe it will. I don’t know.

I’m obviously not meant for Tinder.

You can categorize Royall as either Leslie Knope when she has her color-coded binders: or Hyde whenever Jackie comes into a room before they start dating: There is no in-between.  Royall recently graduated with her B.A. in Sociology & Anthropology from CNU and now studies Government & International Relations at Regent University. She also serves as the Victim Advocate and Community Outreach Coordinator for Isle of Wight Co., VA in Victim Witness Services. Within Her Campus, she served as a Chapter Writer for CNU for one year, a Campus Expansion Assistant for a semester, Campus Correspondent for two years, and is in the middle of her second semester as a Chapter Advisor.  You can find her in the corner of a subway-tiled coffee shop somewhere, investigating identity experiences of members of Black Greek Letter Organizations at Primarily White Institutions as well as public perceptions of migrants and refugees. Or fantasizing about ziplining arcoss the French Alps.