Context: Tinder has now hopped on the same train as apps like ‘Grouper’ and ‘Squad,’ but with a much less offensive name (A GROUPER IS JUST A FISH) and none of all the bullshit that goes along with setting up a new dating app profile, like losing all of your dignity. Not today, Satan.
Rather, Tinder has integrated the group dating functionality directly into the original app itself, allowing you and your friends to form groups and to swipe on others who also lack shame. The following tale is the story of my first experience on Tinder Social with my partner in crime, KC.
7:30 AM – Eyes open. In my own room? Check. Hungover? Check. Alone? Check. Seems like a normal Sunday. Locate phone.
“KC has added you to a group on Tinder Social”
Ah. So it’s going to be THAT kind of Sunday. Okay, I can deal with this. I swipe through groups as I laze in bed, willing my hangover to dissipate by sheer force of will (a highly effective technique).
11:45 AM – Leave bed. Throw on a dress, because my brain only has the capacity to deal with one piece of clothing right now. Throw on makeup, because I look like the crypt keeper. Depart my house to go meet up with KC and other friends at his place.
12:30 PM – Arrive at the boys’ place. There is an inflatable rubber duck sitting uninflated on the couch. I begin to blow it up because I want to show off my lung power and because I don’t know what else to do. Brain function: 10%.
12:45 PM – Receive a text from an unknown number.
John from Hinge – Hey, it’s John from Hinge.
Not really knowing or caring about this human’s identity, I source ideas for a response from the others in the room.
R – Say “HI, HINGE FROM JOHN!”
J – No.
1:15 PM – I find time to craft a response.
J – Howdy doody, John from Hinge! How are you doing on this fine Sunday*?!
JFH – I’m good, having brunch with some buddies.
I’m just about ready to hit him with a ‘cool story bro’ gif when he comes back and redeems his conversational skills.
JFH – How’s your Sunday going?
J – About as good as it can be when you’re blowing up an inflatable duck!
JFH – Where are you going with this?
J – *Sends picture of half-inflated duck*
John from Hinge never responded.
*I’m weird as shit
1:45 PM – The duck is inflated. My lungs are broken.
2:00 PM – KC matches us with a group of two guys: H and N. H is a hunk. N is definitely not. They message us.
N – Read bio.
Bio – Looking to blackout with randos.
KC and I exchange glances. We’re in.
KC – We can play beer pong at my apartment if you bring beer and cups!
N – Down. Be there in 20.
We make use of KC’s balcony to stalk people who might potentially be H and N. As we peer covertly over the ledge, a Jimmy John’s promoter below spots us.
JJ – Hey, guys, I’ve been handing these sandwiches out for an hour and I’m TIRED. Will you please take the rest so I can go home?
KC/J – …um, yes?!
2:30 PM – We are the proud owners of four new sandwiches. Thank you, kind stranger.
2:45 PM – We spot N and H. N is wearing the goofiest Hawaiian shirt I’ve ever seen. H is wearing a muscle tee that shows off his hunky frame. There is a god.
2:45:30 – We decide that they don’t look like serial killers, so we head downstairs to let them in.
2:50 – Commence beer pong.
N – Yo, my friend lives across the street! Let’s see if we can see him from here!
*Commence frantic waving, J wondering if across-the-street guy could be her soulmate, fantasizing about future together*
N – He said he’s doing laundry but he’ll be over in an hour or so.
3:20 PM – I start to put things together.
J – Hey N, you said you went to school at [UNIVERSITY] and work at [CONSULTING FIRM], right? Do you know Thumb Man?
N – Yeah! That’s the guy who lives across the street who’s coming over!!!
J – NOOOOOOOO THAT WAS ONE OF MY WORST DATES HE’S SO BORING HE LOOKS LIKE A THUMB NO NO NOOOOOO
N – How does a human look like a thumb…?
J – He doesn’t have a CHIN and his HAIR is the same color as his FACE and it’s WEIRD!!!!
3:21 PM – I begin texting my ex and invite myself to his happy hour later so I can escape Thumb Man
3:45 PM – I post a snapchat story of everyone in the room singing the National Anthem. Reason still unknown. America.
5:00 – Tinder Social boys depart. Core team meets up with KC’s parents at El Centro for happy hour. I am blackout.
5:05 – I get the hiccups.
5:05-5:59 – I make a complete fool out of myself in front of KC’s parents. They hopefully find it endearing, but I will never know. I am far too hammered to care.
6:00 PM – I am still blackout and have not eaten since my small Jimmy John’s sandwich. I call an Uber to aforementioned happy hour with my ex and his friends.
6:04 – Uber arrives.
6:04:30 – I decide that I will speak to my Uber driver solely in French for the duration of the ride.
6:04:35 – My Uber driver also speaks French.
6:04:36 – I give my Uber driver my phone number.
6:20 PM – My Uber deposits me in front of 51st state, where my ex is surprised to discover that I am blackout and hiccuping (this is, amazingly, the first time he has seen me in either of these states).
6:22 – I divulge a lifetime worth of secrets.
6:30 – I run out of secrets of my own and begin to tell other peoples’ secrets.
6:45 – I am deep into the story of my 5th grade love life when, by the mercy of God, friends arrive and take over the conversation. I distract myself with several pints of beer, which I definitely don’t need.
10:30 PM – I realize my phone is at 1%. I Irish exit the bar and call an Uber home.
10:45 – I ignore all texts asking where I went, instead ordering a pizza and eating half a slice before passing out, fully clothed, on my own bed.
I woke up the next morning to confusion, several frantic texts and calls, half a slice of pizza in my bed, and a camera roll full of pictures of an inflatable duck.
Tinder Social: 1
Can’t wait for the next time!