Do you remember going to Baskin Robbins as a child, completely mesmerized by the sheer amount of ice cream flavors the human mind can concoct? While lost in dreams of dairy-filled, sugar-coated heaven, my stomach would inevitably sour with dread. You see, getting ice cream was a sacred experience for me as a youngster. I would seldom see the buzzing neon “BR” light up the sky from the back of my mom’s Toyota Sequoia. This meant a lot was riding on my decision. With such a wide variety of flavors comes great responsibility, and you can only sample so many flavors before your palate is ruined like the mixture of too many colors of paint. You have to pick one flavor and make your peace as best you can.
Nevertheless, you will always come home fantasizing about rocky road and mint chip, even though you thoroughly enjoyed your scoop of cookie dough ice cream. It can be hard to shake those fears of missing out from your head when all of your options are right there in front of your eyes, separated only by a thin barrier of glass. This is how I feel about Tinder.
Now, I know that the complex personalities of humans cannot be summed up by an ice cream flavor. Yet, I still find myself lamenting the paralysis caused by the magnitude of my options. As I trudge through the icy freezer of the dating world, searching for my divine pint, I feel as though I am in a desert surrounded by mirages. I mean seriously, what does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?
Admittedly, I have always been a one pint kind of girl. I would rather have no ice cream at all than waste my time sampling flavors I know are not worthwhile. All the same, I cannot seem to silent that ever-burning question of “Well, what if?” Maybe my soulmate is swiping away right now, hanging by a thread of hope. Or maybe Tinder is just a waste of time, distracting me from the person I should be finding. Even now I fantasize about telling my future children the story of how I met my life-long love. With a twinkle in my eye I would say, “He walked into my lecture and when our eyes met it felt like the world stopped spinning for just a single moment. He slung his backpack in the seat next to mine and said he liked a certain sticker on my Hydroflask.” Cue the collective “awws” from my children as I smile lovingly at my partner. And yes, I know, I have seen too many Hallmark movies.
If you cannot tell, I am a disgusting romantic. Do not get me wrong, I could not even begin to describe what I am looking for right now. But, thanks to Tinder, I have learned what I am not looking for. I hate having half-hearted conversations that die within a couple of days like a forgotten Tomogatchi. I hate crude interactions carried out through dimly lit screens. I hate Tinder. Yet, I cannot seem to bring myself to click that little “X” as the app trembles. What if, what if, what if? I will keep coming back to this godforsaken Baskin Robbins until I find the perfect flavor, or until it finds me. But who knows, hell might freeze over before that happens.
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