Alien conspiracy theories abound but I was caught up in my own world. This is nothing less than selfish because unlike today’s Bloggy Come Lately, WOE is an old school blogger who believes you have a responsibility to your readers. If there are any left.
Where to begin? Well how about we start with my speciality subject of relationships and dating. WOE had not bothered to glance at the Tinder app until a pal called Suzanne showed her. Tinder works by linking to Facebook to find out about you and uses the GPS in your phone to show you who is nearby. Potential matches are listed and photos turn up. If you like them you swipe right to ‘like’ and if you don’t you swipe left to consign them to history (until they pop up on another dating app). If they ‘like’ you back or in more appropriate language, if they think “Yeah, I’d love to fuck you” then you have a match. You can chat, meet and fuck. You will probably just fuck.
No technophobe herself, WOE took some time to ponder Tinder’s ‘new’ factor. Tinder’s disciples (the freshly laid no doubt) say that it’s ‘like really natural and anyway in a bar you only have looks to go on so it’s better and just as shallow.’
“We make sure you want to be pursued, and as the pursuer you know the person wants to be pursued,” said improbably named Tinder founder Justin Matee. “It starts at a much deeper level.” Yeah Justin, you keep telling us that.
In a bar the person is not a ten year old photo. In a bar you do not walk up to people and herd them into groups to the right or left or depending on how attractive they are. Though actually that would be fun. WOE detests process so the idea of it all going horribly wrong as each new person entered the bar and started swiping, is music to her ears. You’re in, you’re out, you’re in, you’re out, you’re exhausted, your makeup is running, your shirt is ripped and you go home. Alone. This is a far better bar game than Eurotrash Bingo a version WOE invented sitting in the Mandarin Oriental one night. The latter involves listing key Eurotrash identifiers and then ticking them off. Perma tan/botox/fillers/ trout pout (extra points if gone wrong)/full facelift (double points)/older ugly balding bloke with six foot twenty years old/Louboutins….the list goes on. Once you have them you yell ‘Eurotrash’ and you are rewarded with a cocktail. Especially fun after midnight in said establishment.
Eurotrash Bingo is just a sidedish of peanuts. Tinder Live is horrific and would absolutely shatter self-esteem which is what makes it so compelling. Those who managed to last the night would stay to do battle over the remaining few who, by now, would look as worn out as a ten-year old photo so there’s your authenticity. And with bruises to show for it, there would be nothing shallow about the Tinder Live experience.
I can already forsee Tinder Live on Tour…