I don't have the greatest track record when it comes to dating apps. They're a time suck, a mindfuck, and, a large portion of the time, wildly ineffective. There was the guy who messaged with lightning-fast wit, but showed up to our date wearing an excessive amount of scarves and jewelry including an offensively bedazzled man ring. Or the guy with the classic beach-and-sunset-with-surfboard photo who looked like he could be the Aladdin to my Jasmine, but whose in-person halitosis would have made any magic carpet unravel.
And dozens upon dozens more -- enough to make anyone want to ditch online dating altogether. Yet, we keep trying -- because it's so damn easy.
Open your app du jour, peruse the juicy, local, on-market loins and some technically NOT on the market, but you won't find that out until later , swipe, match, and inevitably be let down. But not TOO let down because all you need to do is repeat steps one through four againโฆ and againโฆ and again. I finally decided to get myself off all dating apps for a full month to see what would transpire.
Two apps out of the 26 that all essentially do the same thing are enough. After my digital purge I was able to notice the times when I would reach for my phone for a ritual swiping. It was usually first thing in the morning before sitting down to work, mid-afternoon before I began a project, or late at night on the couch as I was putting off sleep.
While you were procrastinating by scrolling through Instagram, I was scrolling through the male faces of New York City. This is not universal. I am sure many of you out there are using dating apps as a means to meet Mr.
