Guest Contributor. A year and a half ago, I married an amazing man. We moved to Denver and settled into a life of near-domestic bliss.
For those of you living under a rock, Tinder seems to be the dating application du jour. When you log in, it displays pictures of singles in your general area, along with their interests, any common Facebook friends and a short tagline. The magic of the app is the swiping. If the guy in question finds you similarly not ugly, you are notified, at which point you can commence chatting, sexting, making out, etc. Or has that gone the way of flip phones? I digressβ or, at least, regularly hook up with.
Since it was awesome, I naturally spent the next 76 hours swiping through the male population of Denver. What can I say, this app fulfills my need to judge people and my desire for an ego boost at the same time!
I saw you on Tinder the other dayβ¦. I mean, my Tinder profile picture is of my husband and I on our wedding day. And a whole host of other guys that, apparently , are into married women. Yes, ladies, men have no shame, apparently, in using their hotter, fitter friends to try to get some action. Wishing to share the awesome, I logged in with a married girlfriend at a bar, and we tried to collectively decide how to judge our potential matches.
We realized after five minutes that not only did we both have definite types, but that our types were very different. She preferred rugged, masculine guys with muscles and facial stubble. I, on the other hand, like my men to resemble Backstreet Boysβ too dated?
