Say it to my face
Men have the audacity and nothing but — at least the men in my Tinder DMs.
As I’ve mentioned in the past, my only on-again-off-again relationship is with this dating app. Last year, my New Year’s resolution was to take myself less seriously, try new things, and stop friend-zoning every guy I meet. I’ll spare you the sordid details, but turns out, hot girl semester was not for me — my utmost respect to every girl who has both the patience and courage to partake in it.
Every day I have Tinder, I get one day closer to spending the rest of my days in a cozy little cabin secluded in the Swiss Alps with nothing but a complete and utter estrangement from society and a sense of peace. You might ask, “why?” Well, because of the absurd quality of messages I receive on that godforsaken app. If you’re thinking to yourself that I’m being awfully overdramatic, I invite you to walk a mile in the boobs of an averagely attractive girl on a dating app and to look at some of the most notably bad messages I’ve received.
Keep in mind, I’ve had this account a mere month, and I am once again close to swearing off men. Moreover, I’m omitting everything blatantly racist, not creative enough, or simply too crude (what if my mom reads this one day?) to mention. That means the countless “nice boobs,” “sit on my [insert body part of their preference],” and “want to smash” comments did not make the cut. Anyways, I digress. Here are the foul things that make me reconsider ever speaking to a man again — my poor male roommate, though he lives in my apartment, lives more and more frequently on thin ice.
- “If we end up having sex, I probably won’t be into it… but you seem like a chill person to hang out with. Anyway…”
This was just so uncalled for. Did it make me laugh out loud? Yeah. Was it a bit rude? Yeah! I am a chill person to hang out with, though. So, there.
- “I’d let you give me head. I’m waiting. My address is…”
Appalled by the use of the word “let” and his willingness to give me his address so quickly, I only responded because I was rather concerned about his lack of internet safety. I could so easily have been an old man using fake photos or have been a creep myself, and I let him know as much. He said, “I wish you were a murderer.” Me too, babe. Me too.
- “I’m not usually into thicc girls but I’m into you.”
Ah, a classic “not like the other girls” compliment. How delightfully backhanded. I’m so glad I could cure his distaste towards thicc girls. Here’s a tip: if your “compliment” hinges on putting down other women, it’s not a compliment at all.
- “Hey, there are too many white girls on Tinder.”
Okay, and what would you like me to do about that? That’s none of my business, frankly. This was coming from a white male, to make matters worse.
- “You could give me a hundred tries and I still wouldn’t be able to pronounce your name.”
It’s literally not that hard. I have it spelled phonetically in my Instagram bio for this exact reason. Anyhow, one of my New Year’s resolutions is to finally start correcting people who say my name wrong. So, it seemed like we were definitely starting off on the wrong foot here.
- “Hey, brown girl.”
Not exactly the cute pet name I was looking for. Some people try “baby,” “cutie,” or something of that likeness. To be honest, all of those terms of endearment tend to give me the ick, but this is taking it to a whole new level.
- “Hey lil mama, I could give you everything you ever wanted in a man.”
You know what? I’m just not convinced he could. That’s all.
- “You seem wild, young one.”
Being only a few years older than me, it felt a bit creepy to call me “young one.” But, that’s not the kicker. Because I think I’m funny, I replied, “I’m calling the police.” Because he’s creepy, he responded, “already? I didn’t even offer you this spiked drink.” That felt like a bit of a red flag, so our interaction ended there.
My takeaway from this whole experience is that there exists a disposable dating culture which enables people to say the most deranged things to me. Who am I, other than just another girl, to these men? They can say whatever they want to me because I’m just one girl in a stack of pretty girls. They say “nice boobs” and face no repercussions — I doubt they could say that to my face. In the same vein, they could act like they really like me and disappear when the next best thing comes along. Who cares? In a big city, there’s always a prettier girl, a smarter girl, a funnier girl — maybe not that last one, that’s too far. There’s at least a girl who won’t write an article about you, most likely.
Sometimes I miss my small town charm, and the way everyone knew each other at least a little bit in Thunder Bay. Perhaps I never really dabbled in dating there (I didn’t — I was and continue to be a girlboss above all else), but I just don’t think Thunder Bay boys would have had the utter gall to speak to me like this knowing who I am, that I’m probably best friends with their sister, aunt, and mother, and that they’d likely run into me at the grocery store later. I partially blame the population density of big cities for enabling people to be their worst selves, simply because they don’t have to ever see me in person. That, and the fact that there’s always someone else around the corner to start over with.
My horoscope told me to delete my dating apps the other day. I think it’s on to something.
