I had tinder for three years – and all I got was a lousy congratulatory text.

I was recently notified that I had surpassed 25,000 matches on tinder. Yeah, you heard that right. Tinder even had the nerve to start the text with a ‘you’re on a whole new level now!’ like I hadn’t just wasted the last three years of my life swiping tirelessly and aimlessly in a self-destructive quest for The One. And I’m sorry if this comes off as whiny, but I have matched with a lot of boys. Let me put this in perspective for you… not even the largest ice hockey stadium in the world can seat 25,000 people. Montreal’s Bell Centre only holds 21,723.

So even though my matches would quite literally overflow an ice hockey stadium, somehow I’m still single?

I will admit, I am largely to blame. I get a fair amount of messages from Daniels and Joes and Jacks, and I would rather do literally anything else than reply to a “drinks tonight?” which, when a reply isn’t received, is usually followed by a “I’ll just go fuck myself then” – twats. So yes, I don’t really have the a leg to stand on when I label them twats and never follow through.

Honestly, I’ve just always been a bit of a pussy when it comes to tinder (I talk a big game, but sometimes worry about my online ego vs. real life chat) but thought if there was any time to brave the anonymous cock – it would be across international waters.

There I was, lying in my bathroom-sized dorm room with my Chinese roommate Ming by my side, swiping – and replying! I decided on a sweet American boy, whose name now I can’t actually remember (shocker). He asked if I wanted to get In-n-Out (one of America’s greatest inventions) so I put on my big-girl-wants-a-green-card pants and said yes. Flash forward two days, and before I know it, I’m texting (Caleb? Jacob?) that I have a really, really, important essay due tomorrow and I simply cannot leave the house. I’m pretty sure that night I ended up getting high and forcing my very straight male friend to watch Drag Race season 7 highlights – in some eyes, also a win.

So basically, I have literally zero reason to be mad. I really don’t. And I also know that I shouldn’t set my standards so low that I’m looking for my life partner and the father of my future children on a social media dating app. Bar one incredible success story, courtesy of my friend (she met her boyfriend of five-something years on tinder; his family owns a huge amount of property in the country and his gorgeous brother is known as the best root in north-west Queensland), I don’t see the point anymore.

To be honest, I think I would be really satisfied if I ended up marrying one of my close girlfriends – yet I didn’t have to swipe right in a request for their friendship. These people, all of whom I would take a bullet for before any man (with the exception of Richard Madden, and maybe my brother) became my friends for other reasons. They are all kind, thoughtful, and most importantly make me laugh – qualities I have difficulties accessing through a dating app. So, that leaves me with this; unless I meet my husband on an ice hockey rink, maybe our girlfriends really are our soulmates and guys are just people to have fun with (or pucks to throw around the ice?)

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