Consider this a sidetrack from the usual Ok Cupid fodder.
Before I became a member of the aforementioned site of horror, I tried out an app called Tinder. Let me Google that for you in case you aren’t familiar with it.
One lucky man became my match and proceeded to message me. He seemed nice and smart enough to warrant a response. Sick of Tinder (it’s seriously a horrible hole to fall into), I gave this dude my number and deleted the app for good. After a few texts back and forth, he decided he wanted to meet me.
But I realized something. I had no idea what this kid’s face looked like. Looking back, I’d realized he only had photos from far away or with other people. Who was this mystery person? He claimed to be 6’4 (you all know by now that I go weak at the knees for a man who stands that tall) and Hungarian-American. But honestly, I couldn’t meet the kid without knowing what his face looked like.
When I told him this, he proceeded to send me a photo of himself in a cow costume. Yes, really. Was his face in it? Barely. All I could see were udders. Udderly distressed, I finagled his last name out of him. Don’t ask me how. After a thorough Facebook search I’d found him. And I realized why he was so private about his facial features. While this guy really was 6’4, his nose was about 5’10. His stretched out face was hard to ignore. And while I was able to look past the strange schnoz and the obvious embarrassment this guy had over his looks, I could not look past how weird he got after a few more texts.
He decided he wanted to come to a party at my house. He started typing in paragraphs. Every text ended with a period. I began to feel like I was talking to a well-written book that wanted to stalk me down and prey on me. I told the guy that I was uncomfortable and no longer wanted to meet up. He said I was a waste of time and to never lead someone on again.
Truth is, I’d only texted him a handful of times compared to the many, many messages that he’d send me. Never led you on, bro. Just got scared that you were gonna snort me up your giant nose like Rob Ford would snort a Canadian crack rock. In other words, I began to fear for my life. Kind of. I also feared his awkward demeanor and stalker tendencies.
This experience taught me one thing: If you’re going to Tinder, only swipe right on those who have faces. Or just don’t swipe right at all. Go outside or something instead. You’re less likely to die.