There is something heartbreaking about watching your friends suffer at the hands of men. It is even worse when they are suffering at the hands of a different man every weeknight. Tinder came along, and with it, opened a can of worms. Women were perhaps looking for love in the wrong place, but were also walking away from a cheeky sexual experience with a guy they thought really liked them feeling used, so it made me think – can we play these guys at their own game?
Tinder’s purpose is to find sexual partners. It is not a dating app and this is something that is way too often forgotten by some users. So when a guy asks you out for dinner or a drink, even if he seems really nice, chances are he just wants to have sex with you. Which is fine, as long as you understand that and you’re prepared to (most likely) never hear from him again.
So after countless girls nights where painful Tinder experiences were a major topic of conversation, I decided to download the app. Having just come out of a two year relationship, I wasn’t exactly familiar with the world of Tinder, but I was open to spending a Sunday night looking at men and deciding which ones arms were worth a swipe-right. For those of you who haven’t used Tinder, that’s exactly how shallow it is.
One of the things I miss most about being in a relationship is having an on-call handy man. So after making a trip to Ikea, purchasing the best-looking-most-complex-to-assemble flat pack, I got on Tinder. I swiped left on a few guys that looked more video game than apprentice carpenter until I found my target. Steve* was wearing a high visibility jacket, standing in front of a Ute where his toolbox was clearly visible (his actual tool box that is). I swiped right.
Steve: Do you want to come over?
Steve: I can’t wait to lick your bum.
Steve: I mean take you out for dinner.
Yes, I had definitely found my target.
I gave him my address and told him to come to me. When he arrived I had assembled the frame of the wardrobe and it was a clear obstacle to the bedroom. I then asked him to build it. I spent about an hour with Steve as he talked to me about his Christmas Party that he had just left to come spend the night with me and he kept looking at me and saying ‘seriously? You’re seriously going to make me put it together?’ To which I smiled and nodded.
When the wardrobe was finished I thanked him and asked if he needed me to call him a Taxi. He wasn’t impressed, he ironically stated that he felt used , but he sat down on my couch and said ‘I’m not leaving here until I’ve found someone to root’ … I then watched as he opened Tinder, swiped right on a girl and then walked out the front of my house and waited for her to come pick him up. Which she did… and power to her, maybe she needed her bedroom painted the next day.
*Changed his name because I’m a bitch, not a psycho.
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Words by Madeleine Gleeson
IG // @madeleinegleeson