The female view: Scarlett Russell
According to Nancy Jo Sales’s précis of Tinder in Vanity Fair this month, the online app prompts easy access to instant hook-ups and has created a generation of sex-obsessed commitment-phobes. “You’re always prowling, you can swipe a couple hundred people a day,” says a “handsome twentysomething man” she interviewed. The controversial article even made it onto Newsnight last week, when presenter Evan Davis asked a psychologist whether women were “disadvantaged” because of the hit-it-and-quit-it culture Tinder has allegedly invented. Is Sales’s account brutal, or brutally honest? According to my male mates, yes, most men go on Tinder just to hook up. As Andrew shrugged: “Finding a girlfriend on Tinder is like trying to find one in Ibiza.” But, if we’re being brutally honest, it’s not just men exploiting the app for their sexual gain. I think the idea that women are at any disadvantage is entirely patronising. Though most of my single, female friends use Tinder in the hope of meeting “a nice guy who won’t just send me pictures of lubricant,” I know several who are on it purely for casual dates, and some simply for casual sex. Every bloke I know on Tinder has had at least one proposition from a girl he’s “matched” with on the app before they’ve even swapped phone numbers.
But while there’s no doubt Tinder has contributed to today’s throwaway dating culture, it can’t solely be blamed for it. The 50 women Sales interviewed were aged between 19 and 29 – no man over 30 crops up. The fact that twentysomething blokes want to sleep around is hardly Tinder’s fault. And wasn’t it supposed to be Sex and The City that encouraged modern women to get their stiletto-clad kicks in the bedroom back in 1996? I’d imagine that if Sales talked to 50 people aged 30-plus, her findings would be rather different. I know countless couples who met through Tinder, all in their thirties. It’s not always the case, of course – I’ve dated a 27-year-old bloke who owned his own business, only ever had monogamous relationships and was desperate to settle down; and a 35-year-old man with the emotional maturity of a tadpole – but, generally, I think men in their 30s are slightly more comfortable with the idea of shared bank accounts and Sunday afternoons at the playground rather than the pub. This age group was actively dating pre-Tinder, so the concept of meeting people through friends, at work or – gasp! – in public, isn’t totally obsolete, it’s just slightly harder. My friend Josh, 33, who’s engaged to Sarah, 32, says: “I slept around in my 20s without the help of Tinder. When it came along, it enabled us to meet loads of women that obviously resulted in some fun, but I dated loads of girls I actually liked, too – including Sarah.” Single Stuart, 35, adds: “All my mates are now married or settled. Tinder does make sex readily available, but I’m kinda over that. I want a girlfriend.”
I joined Tinder a year ago after a breakup and have had a love/hate relationship with it since. In the vulnerable post-breakup stages it can be a devastating minefield of mixed messages and rejection. I ended up flicking through images searching for a perfect replacement of my ex and, naturally, was bitterly disappointed. A month or so later I hopped back on with no expectations and met several fun, interesting men with whom I had great chat, lovely dates and no pressure of sex whatsoever. You can spot very quickly the men that just want to get laid. They tend to be over-zealous with emojis from early on, before a mis-spelt proposition (“u wanna snuggle!? Lol”) wings its way over. Sometimes they’ll send pictures of their unkempt torso or genitalia. We’ll sigh, maybe laugh and show our mates, then “un-match” them, thus blocking further contact. Last week a profile popped up of my friend’s boyfriend. The next showed nothing but a topless, faceless selfie with a phone number underneath. Despairing, I deleted my account. But, despite that, I still maintain that not all men go on Tinder just to have casual sex. Today’s dating culture, where options are endless and no one has time to wait for pasta to boil, let alone find The One, is ruthless. Tinder certainly has its part to play, but it’s not running the show.
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