A guy from tinder called me like 4 times.
Dude he doesn't even look great in his pictures. Idk why I slided umm and seriously I'm only talking to him to be nice and just as a virtual friend.
I don't think I'd sleep with him. Maybe if I have Way Too many drinks.
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I have my job title (fluid systems engineer) on my tinder and on the occasions I swipe on men, I very frequently get first messages like "I hated physics" "fluids was the hardest" "I don't understand thermodynamics". And like... okay???
I never know how to respond. Because it's not a compliment. If they were complimenting me they would say "I am impressed by your field" or "congrats on getting through hard classes" or "i can tell you're smart" but that's not what they say! Instead they are just saying that they don't like something that i do like. That's not how one builds rapport!
Anyway I responded to one such comment this morning with "👻navier👻😱stoookes😱" and I thought I was funny
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my tinder date wants to know why you’re banned from tinder
Ask and ye shall receive!
Gather round, folks, and lend an ear as I tell you about Arnold.
No, he’s not a first date gone wrong, nor is he a scorned ex-lover who came up as a potential match. He isn’t a rival to whom I am bitterly attracted, and he isn’t an unrequited crush.
Arnold is my son.
He is also a rubber chicken.
[image description: a white hand holds a blue rubber chicken against a white wall. The rubber chicken has a red beak, comb, wattles, and feet, as well as a gold collar that’s says “SQUEEZE ME!”]
Let me set the scene.
A couple years ago, on a cold night in late autumn, I went to a grocery store with some friends. We all separated to get what we needed.
I don’t remember if I actually got anything for myself in that trip, but I do remember wandering around, only to come across a giant bin of rubber chickens.
Immediately thinking of the vine where that person presses a bunch of rubber chickens (geese? some sort of fowl) to make a loud noise, I did the same thing, probably to the chagrin of fellow shoppers.
Some of my friends joined me in my shenanigans, and we left the store in a jolly mood.
Days later, one of my roommates, who was one of the friends from the first grocery trip, came back from another grocery trip with a gift for me.
It was a blue and red rubber chicken.
I looked on my new child with complete adoration and named him Arnold. I thanked my roommate with all my heart and left to plan the many hijinks I would get up to with Arnold. (He has admittedly been through a lot, but the wear and tear mostly comes from love.)
One day, i had the bright idea to make Arnold a Tinder account.
I did not give myself much time to consider the idea before diving in. Arnold had a photo shoot, and I uploaded as many photos as Tinder would allow for his profile. I believe I put his age somewhere in the 20s. I picked the option for any gender to match so as many people as possible would see him. According to what I put in his bio, he got the Covid vaccine, has a natural talent for singing, lives with his mom, and likes Kpop.
Then I published his account.
While matching with people amused me at first, keeping Arnold’s Tinder account active eventually became a chore. Every so often, Tinder would email me and say my his account would be hidden if I didn’t open the app and use it.
I swiped through people, and whenever i matched with people, i would just shoot them a simple “yo.” I tried not to carry on any conversations, though, because I myself was not interested in going on any dates. This was just to entertain me and maybe some other people who came across Arnold.
One day, I got an email saying Arnold’s account was reported and I was no longer welcome on Tinder. I assume someone reported Arnold bc he isn’t an actual person, so I was technically breaking the laws of Tinder or whatever. It was honestly a relief; no more swiping through profiles just to keep the account alive.
I still have Arnold, and I still love him. But you will never see him, or me, on a dating app again.
TL/DR: I made a Tinder Account for Arnold, my rubber chicken. It took over half a year, but Arnold’s account was eventually reported for not being a real person, and I was banned from Tinder.
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I'm sorry what was that about humiliation kinks and the SPD
way back when i was still dating men, i went on two? dates with a PhD student who had joined the SPD (because the communists are on a watch list in Bavaria and he wanted to be able to do his PhD without trouble). Anyway, I think we went on one date and then hooked up next time we saw each other - we watched Arrival and then tried to have sex, which didn't really work bc he had a very small penis and got off of ppl telling him that was cringe. unfortunately i am very nice and didn't think it was an issue, so i didn't tell him his tiny dick wasn't doing it for me and neither of us had a good time (or an orgasm), so we proceeded to (presumably) happily ghost each other
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“Do you want to, uh, connect on socials?” Rae tried to keep their voice casual. The date had been going well, but they weren’t fully confident in their Tinder etiquette. “So we can stay in touch?.”
Alain smiled. His smile made Rae think of flash paper; sunspot bright, then gone.
“You don’t have to find me online to see me again.” He said, but he spelled out his name anyway in a little sing-song voice.
Rae stared at the screen. They thought it must be a mistake, but the picture was clearly Alain. Beneath the grainy photo, a dozen messages declared their grief in neat sans serif.
A memorial page.
They had just pulled up at the park. Alain sat in the passenger seat, knees curled up to his chest, still cradling his take-away cup between pale fingers.
Alain had told Rae: “I don’t really like coffee. I just like having something hot to hold. My hands get cold.”
Rae had wondered if this was an invitation to hold his hands. They’d made a little show of surrounding Alain’s delicate fingers with their big woollen mittens. They were sure it had seemed real, but couldn’t remember the feeling of Alain’s hands on theirs.
Rae killed the engine. They doubted Alain could feel the warmth of the heater anyway.
“What’s up?” Asked Alain, softly.
Rae flipped the phone, so Alain could see.
“Oh.” Alain flashed another smile that was all light, no warmth. “So that’s a no on the walk, then?”
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