- Publish Date
- Thursday, 9 August 2018, 11:30AM
If you've been in a happy and committed relationship for the last six years, then congratulations. You've never had to deal with the atrocities of Tinder.
Tinder is a collection of the most interesting people in your city. Let me introduce you to the Taranaki men of Tinder.
There's the ridiculously attractive Dave (but there's a good chance that he's a catfish, surely an underwear model with an eight-pack doesn't live in Inglewood?).
Then there's Chad. His Monster Energy cap is on backwards and you can see the barbed wire tattoo popping out from under his stained Jim Beam t-shirt.
Now we've got Jack. For some reason, all of Jack's photos are of his Toyota Corolla.
Apparently, we don't need to see his face to make a swipe right decision OR is Jack actually a Toyota Corolla? We might never know.
A swipe left brings us to Will. Will has at least five photos of himself. Unfortunately, every photo also contains a super cute and fluffy dead animal. We get it, you hunt.
Mark is up next. Mark has photos that are of him! There are no cars, no dead animals.
Unfortunately, the photos are just three different super close up images of the left part of his face. Do you have a body Mark? Is there any more to you than half a lip and an eye?
We've made it to Adam. There're heaps of photos of Adam, and in every single one, he's playing a different sport. I didn't even know there were that many sports! It's great you're active, but I also like to Netflix and couch sometimes!
Last but not least, Caleb. It's because of Caleb that I simply cannot trust anyone who says they're self-employed or a CEO on Tinder. I am convinced that 78 per cent of men on Tinder who claim to be 'self-employed' is definitely unemployed or ... you know ... *cough* drug dealer *cough*.
Tinder is a place on the internet I pray you never find yourself. But as I am single, so very single, I will continue to try to navigate through the Jacks, Wills, Adams, Calebs, Marks, Chads and Daves and hope for a Prince Charming.
This story was originally published in the Stratford Press and is republished here with permission.