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I started caring, even if I didn't want to and maybe hated myself a little for it.And then I started thinking, which is usually never a good idea for me, but I did, and now here I am.
It isn't anything directly tangible, its incredibly prone to fabrication, and often the perfect outlet for selective omission.
Meeting someone on Tinder didn't stop me from feeling sad and listening to angry girl rock when they didn't text back.
It didn't stop my friend from crying in a cab two months after a boy decided to break things off.
The unsolicted sexual messages that I have fun responding to.
I initially compared Tinder to online shopping, which is kind of horrible once you start thinking about the real live human being part again. Tinder is a notorious hook up app, anyway, and as a girl that typically does not hook up under any definition, what was there for me to experience other than talking to cute(ish) boys when I'm bored and impressing myself with pun-based opening lines? After a few weird exchanges and one euphemism centered around open border socialism, I started having more substantial conversations with people. It was a cold, snowy December evening on the mean streets of Long Island.My friend had been using Tinder throughout the year, and I thought it would be fun to swipe for her - give my unsolicted advice and pass judgement on people based on their respective coalescence of 1s and 0s, you know, that sort of thing. My friend and I had been catching up at a local coffee shop, and as it tends to do, the conversation eventually turned to dating.