The sad truth has been confirmed: Tinder
users are fibbers. They’re not necessarily lying, but according to a
new study of user demographics, it appears a large chunk of them aren’t
being entirely forthright with their intentions. Research by Global Web Index found that 42 percent of people using Tinder are already in relationships—and many of them are men.
First
instinct is to call Tinder an app for cheaters, but perhaps it’s not
all so devious. At one point, former Tinder CEO Sean Rad postulated that
Tinder wasn’t so much a dating app as a “social discovery app.” As a
non-single who’s used Tinder, I don’t think that’s how I’d describe it;
it’s more like a social gaming app. I use Tinder exclusively to act as
something of a wingwoman for my friends who are legitimately on Tinder.
Two thumbs swiping through profiles are better than one, right?
I’ve
also used it purely for creeping purposes: I want to see who else is on
Tinder. I just swipe left into oblivion, cackling quietly (for reasons I
cannot understand or justify) when I come across a friend’s ex or one
of my own.
Every
four months or so, I’ll download Tinder after being motivated by a
group of Tindering single friends, or just stuck on a long bus ride home
after a night out. And then, hours later, I’ll delete it. Rinse, wash,
repeat.
I am not alone. I quizzed a handful of friends and Internet acquaintances on their own coupled Tinder use. Josh Barrie wrote about his alternative Tinder useearlier
this year. He tells me he still uses Tinder “but mainly to alleviate
boredom. It’s addictive, swiping. It really is.” His girlfriend uses it
too, but rarely.
My former colleague at the Daily Dot, EJ Dickson, has written extensively on Tinder for Couples.
She has a similar method as I do: “[I use it] Maybe, if I’m bored or
waiting to meet a friend. Most of the time I’ll do it for a story but
occasionally I’ll do it because I’m bored and it requires a lot less
cerebral effort than, like, Trivia Crack or something. Most of the time,
I’ll only message people if I know them or if they’re in media or if
they have a cute pet or something,” she explains. “And I’ll just say
‘cute pet’ or ‘hey, I went to Hebrew school with you’ and delete it a
few hours later and disappear back into the ether.”
For
us, it’s all a game. Just another app to tap and swipe on. The Global
Web Index stats initially conjure images of cheating bros wearing deep
V-necks and prowling for some side action. But maybe it you should be
picturing app-addicted couples, absentmindedly swiping on the subway
ride home, or the taken friend out with a group, Tindering alongside his
or her single friends, just to be in on the game. It’s fun, it’s funny,
it’s whatever. Except for single people who, you know, downloaded it in
order to connect with another human being.
“I
think in a lot of ways, Tinder is really overwhelming, and to know that
you’re wasting your time with close to half the people you might
encounter is pretty disheartening,” my friend Coral told me when I gave
her the depressing 42 percent stat. “It’s essentially mocking people who
don’t have what they have and are looking for it.” EJ admits she
sometimes feels guilty about spurning an earnest Tinder user she matches
with… though, all-too-often the person on the other end is being creepy
or “sends me a joke about his dick.”
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