I identify as pansexual, meaning that people who identify as men, women, neither or both are on my radar; unfortunately its slim pickings here in my hometown.
So what’s a millennial 20-something to do? Tinder.
I picked my best selfies, tried to put them into an order of what I thought people would find most attractive, but also not find me full of myself. I included not one, but two, full length photos so nobody could accuse me of hiding the fact that I was a fat woman. I wasn’t sure I wanted people younger than me, but I set my limits and off I went, swiping away.
I’m not one to message first, I believe nobody really wants to do that, it’s a surprise to me that anyone can meet anyone else on these things. I put a question at the bottom of my profile for prospective partners to answer to start up a conversation – “Rum or gin?” “Popcorn: sweet or salted” and “What is your favourite book that you’ve read recently?” – a tactic that lead to at least one or two people trying to start actual conversations, even if I was so socially anxious I wouldn’t respond for weeks at a time.
Along comes this d*ckhead:
“If I flip a coin, what are the chances of you giving me head?”
And he wasn’t alone. There was the guy who typed out a huge long ‘joke’ about getting a Halloween costume he’d borrowed wet on a night out, only to lead to the conclusion of “no good at keeping girls sheets dry”. There was the guy who was trying to be a bit smoother, mentioning that of all my curves, my smile was the best. A close friend popped up and we both decided to swipe right for the jokes in our group chat – he sent me the obligatory “SEND NUDES!” while we were both sat at the same table drinking cocktails, just so I would forever have that.
The worst man I encountered was the one who couldn’t take a hint. I messaged first, I thought, he’s cute. He didn’t understand the flirty joke I was trying to make – which I’ll admit wasn’t my best work – but he soon glossed over that as I was talking about his pictures and there was a topic of conversation he wanted to get onto as fast as possible.
“Shame I have pants on eh?”
I kept steering back towards the dog he had in his photographs, after he told me its name was ‘Willie’, and had seemingly ignored my strong pointer when I asked about engraving that on a collar. Before he decided that he wasn’t getting anywhere with what he wanted, he actively stated he was talking about his dick, and told me to “Stop throwing the convo”.
I went angry feminist on his ass. I told him I didn’t want to talk about his penis, and the least he could do is just ignore me rather than continually try to steer the conversation that I had initiated in that direction. I told him it was early, and that I didn’t like his views on consent if this is how he reacted. I must be one of those strong modern women, you see.
“You must be a c*nt I like to call it”
Oh. Okay. Expected.
He finished up by saying I was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen and he just swipes right on everyone. Which is odd, because he’d gone from ‘my dick’ to ‘you’re ugly’ in about 5 seconds flat.
—
“On the whole Tinder was so much different when you removed the men”
Inspiration hit me. The few women I’d matched with had only ever chatted to me about stuff like sport, or the booze questions at the bottom of my profile – without trying to turn it into an immediate ‘let’s go out and I’ll get you drunk!’ I clicked the setting to turn off the men – oh, if only life had one of these, I’d use it so often while out in public.
A few profiles were couples looking for another woman to join them for a threesome, but on the whole Tinder was so much different when you removed the men. I got beautiful women with varied interests, trans and non-binary people that I had never encountered before, and a couple of people I went to university with that I hastily swiped left on.
Not just the profiles, the conversation was much improved also. One woman chatted to me for over 30 messages about false eyelashes. Another I speak to on Instagram now, including totally platonically telling her she looked good in her bikini and she should f*ck societal standards that tell her she can’t wear one because she isn’t a size 10! For days following the 2017 general election, I was chatting to an NHS worker about her views on the election and on some of her co-workers who had voted Tory.
Nobody tried to talk about genitals, nobody made stupid sex jokes, nobody asked for nudes.
Now, I’m not saying that all women on Tinder who are seeking women are like this – I’ve heard the stories. But given I’ve dedicated equal time to both primarily men and almost exclusively women, I know which way I prefer my online dating.
