SWIPE LEFT, SWIPE RIGHT

Yeh! or Nay!

It really does get monotonous, does it not? Swipe right for Yes/Like, swipe left for No/Dislike. Especially when you think about the fact that all you have to go on with is a superficial photo that may or may not even be the real person and a bio that says nothing more than it says anything about the person. The world we live in hey. If I could, I would ask the creator of the app to include a swipe to the middle button. A man deserves some time to make up his mind, ruminate. This is after all a decision that should not be taken lightly. 

I, for one, hate the lot of them. I hate them for their non-originality and their oversimplification of human attraction and connection. It should take more than a pretty face and a gorgeous body. Nah, Just kidding, it should not. To think all that it takes is a glance and there you have it. Love at first sight, as they would say. I swipe right. It must be love. Hey! she swipes right too. What are the odds? The universe must be at work here. Cupid, you mischievous little trouble maker, you. Shooting your cute pink arrows here, and then there.  

                         “Hey Pretty, how you doing?”  

- I typed into the little chat space below as we are encouraged to by the app controller whenever we have a Match. She doesn't reply immediately. It's been over five minutes. I go back to check my message. There it is. I probably should not have called her “Pretty”. Now she thinks I’m some male chauvinist prick who sees a lady as nothing more than a sexual object. Maybe it's my grammar. There ought to be the word ‘’are’’ in-between ‘how’ and ‘you’. Maybe she is a stricter for grammar and syntax and all….  

                      “Hello, Hi there, how are you doing yourself 😊  (blushing face emoji)?’’ 

she types back. I smile too, physically. 

                   “Thanks for the swipe”

I replied hurriedly, without thinking. “Thanks for the swipe?”, I repeated to myself in my head. Now that’s dumb. Who says that? Gosh, dude, you’ve got no game whatsoever. Berating myself. She ignores it. Thankfully. 

                “What are you doing on Tinder?”  She types. 

My heart skips a beat, as I realize that I have no response to that. No sincere non-embarrassing answer at least. Logging out felt like being caught pants down with a jar of vaseline.