Has something good ever come from Tinder?
It’s a good question. I’ve received a lot from Tinder in my day: lots of unsolicited dick pics, an awkward date with a guy who had a fetish for candles inserted in places better not to mention, and a few less than desirable lines of discussion (my name lends itself to “Je t’aime une Lotte” with remarkable ease for the unimaginative mind).
Needless to say, a late realization of too many ”this is“how I know you” in my small hometown has led to a lot of “red zones” – let’s just say that Pret, my favorite Japanese restaurant, and Costa Coffee in town, are now all strictly off-limits because of various “hits.” right ‘unhappy years gone by.
While Tinder may have ruined my hometown for me, a fateful Tinder date in early 2019 changed my life in some most unexpected ways.
I had spoken to this guy on Tinder: tall, cheesy, and surprisingly arrogant. I was 19 and thought he was “the dog’s bullshit”, had no idea our first date would just be: bullshit.
At the time, I was in Dance College, and at first the prospect of dating someone who was flexible enough to have their leg behind their head seemed to appeal to my date. However, as the night wore on and our empty beer bottles multiplied, her true feelings about my career choices became crystal clear. I started asking him politely about his life. “Are you working? Are you a student?” He proudly told me he went to Cambridge or Oxford University – forgive me, my memory forgets which one. For the sake of this article, let’s use the much-despised abbreviation: Oxford Bridge. The warning bells started ringing in my head upon hearing the obvious bragging, but careful to give it a second chance (see: single, single, single), I politely replied “I vaguely thought once about apply me. ” Notice, when I say “vaguely thought” I mean briefly considered in passing – I was just trying to make conversation. But this offhand comment did put my date on a tangent.
“No offense, darling” he mumbled in a way that implied he was preparing to offend me completely.
“But I don’t think someone like you – a part-time dancer and waitress, has quite the -“ At this point, he leaned in closer, so I could smell the alcohol and condescension on his rancid breath. “-Intellectual capacity”, he said, gently slapping his fleshy fingers on my forehead, “To enter Oxbridge.” You know you need Aces and A * at A level to even consider applying ”, he reminded me generously.
I was furious.
I wasn’t sure how to answer. So I didn’t. After finding an excuse to use the bathroom, I paid our bill and left.
That night I opened UCAS. See, what my putrid breathing mate Guinness didn’t realize was that I had done surprisingly well in my high school diploma. And so, just to prove a point, I tossed a coin (facing Oxford and facing Cambridge), I wrote my personal statement (“I really have to have always wanted to study English at university… ”), and applied. I had no intention of going there. I just wanted to go through the application process, just to, in case I got to the (unlikely) interview stage, to know that I had proven centuries of terrible dates to be wrong.
Remarkably, I entered.
It really threw me for a loop.
“It frustrates me that only now, with a good university to my name, could I have earned the respect of my terrible Tinder date as an intellectual equal.”
But, I had a recurring injury in Dance College and had lost my passion a bit, so thought, why not? And here I am. Still, it frustrates me that it was only now, with a good college to my name, that I could have earned the respect of my terrible Tinder date as an intellectual equal, not just seen as a “waitress.” flexible with an empty head ”, as he believed. .
Creative occupations, such as dance, and non-academic careers, such as hospitality, were so easy to decline for my date. Critical middle-class teenager who squandered his student loan, knowing he could always turn to “Mommy and Daddy’s Bank,” couldn’t understand a life outside of Russell Group University that he so deserved to be a member of.
I might be a member of this college now and have proven to be the academic equal of my terrible date with Tinder, but the real question is, why wasn’t I liked by him first location? I do not subscribe to the elitism and vanity that cloud the minds of – admittedly a smaller and smaller minority – some Oxbridge students.
But I celebrate Tinder not only as a dating agency, but also as something that got me into college. It turns out that I actually have to have always wanted to study english at university. So download the app and, who knows, a terrible date could actually change your life for the better.