Two guys share dope on – How to sell yourself like a tampon on Tinder
“In my first week on Tinder I got zero matches, and against my better judgment it made me feel small, shitty and terrible. As if I’d lost out on some stupid bounty I’d never wanted to be in the running for to begin with. And as penalty for my half-assed, non-committal (did you get the pun?) attempt at Tinder, I would never, ever be getting laid again. It was a very complex kind of feeling to feel.
So that weekend, after three stiff drinks in one of those bars where only stiff men drink stiffer drinks, I reached out to a self-proclaimed Tinder guru friend of mine. Again, against my better judgment.
What He Said: Bro, ekdum simple hai. Pehle ek achha waala bio likh. You’re the one with the penis, so you need to explain first. Tinder kyu download kiya? And don’t say you’re looking for sex.
What I Said: But I am looking for sex.
WHS: Yeah, so are they. But saying it in those exact words makes you a creep. What kind of nice, decent, non-rapey dude uses Tinder to cruise for sex?
WHS: A good looking one. Sorry broseph, but you aren’t that good looking.
WIS: Ha, woh bhi hai. Toh phir kya bolu?
WHS: If you’re really desperate, likh ki tu investment banker hai. Ya MBA kar raha hai. Phir dekhna.
WHS: Ok. Fuck. I dunno. Aren’t you a copywriter? Sell yourself. Like a tampon.
WIS: Theek. Phir?
WHS: Then change your damn photos. No chic is going to want to fuck you because you have Radiohead as your profile picture.
WHS: No fucking way. Your first picture needs to be the best picture of your face that has ever been taken. That’s your action shot.
WIS: I’ll take one.
WHS: Then get some shots with all your attractive female friends. Are you still in touch with ****? Definitely get one with her.
WHS: Chal theek.
WHS: Then take a picture with your dog. Aur tere paas toh billiya bhi itni saari hai, unke saath bhi photo kheech le.
WIS: Oh fuck yeah. Got tons of pics with my cats.
WHS: Great. Arre bro, ek idea hai. If you really want to make it obvious that you’re looking for sex, call yourself the ‘pussy whisperer’. But make it sound like you’re talking about your cats.
WIS: No fucking way.
WHS: Try kar le yaar. For science.
WIS: I will smack your face out of shape and it’ll stay that way forever.
WHS: Alright man. I guess you’re set.
So my Tinder bio now contains the following words, mentioned out of order and out of context: borderline, vegan, toker, short, lapsed, pizza, get, tall, we, Radiohead, beer, denial, piers, anarchist, midnight, listening, read, alcoholic.
I think ‘vegan’ is the real clincher.
Chuck Palahniuk once wrote about the way Amy Hempel writes: “The sentences aren’t just crafted. They’re tortured over.” Also how I would describe my Tinder bio. Italicize the ‘torture’ part of it, if you will. Again, a very complex kind of feeling to be feeling.
But hey, it actually does work. Four hours after revamping my profile I’d had my first match. In the next two days I’d had another. This is a lot for a guy, alright, especially when you like Radiohead and most of the girls you come across on Tinder all really, really ‘<3 coldplay’ (the ‘c’ is almost always lowercase).
Earlier, my refusal to ever use Tinder was supported by my belief that life is its own dating/hook up/happily ever after app. But clearly, life isn’t enough. Or maybe human nature is just fucked. Maybe human nature is fucked because life isn’t enough or maybe the fact that life disappoints us first makes even more comfortable with disappointing ourselves.
Is anyone getting me? Are you on Tinder?”