214. That’s how many guys have mutually swiped right over my photo on Tinder – two hundred effing fourteen. That’s more total dudes than on 4 NFL teams combined (well, the dressed players at least). And yet how many Tinder dates have I gone on? One.
Likewise, I’ve been active on Match for several weeks now, and how many guys email me to set up dates? None. Well, none that fit into my actual dating parameters, at least…unless I expand my search to include dudes over 45. So, in my frustration and utter confusion, I’ve decided to utilize my resources and ask the masses to weigh in.
Men of online dating. And male readership. And, like, people at large – I need to know. What am I doing wrong here? What gives?
Before you all start crying out that I must be ignoring perfectly good dudes on Match, let me assure you – I’m keeping an open mind. I mean, I’m not willing to compromise on certain things, like the men I date having kids (Miss Wingman’s not ready to be a Wingmom, thankyouverymuch.) But for the most part, I’m letting what guys say dictate my interest, and ignoring superficial things like a receding hairline or a hideous wardrobe.
In fact, I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone entirely and began doing what I’ve never done before in my 30+ years on this planet: making the first move. I’m sending emails to guys, I’m striking up the first chat conversations when I get a new match, and…nothing. Literally, crickets. I hate to sound arrogant here, but I didn’t expect this. I thought that since I don’t post duck face bathroom selfies, don’t look like I have Hepatitis C, and can actually spell, that I’d be able to drum up some interest. But no. I stand corrected.
And frankly, it’s starting to give me a complex.
I’ve emailed like 15 guys on Match to strike up a conversation, to no avail. Not a single reply in the bunch. Here’s an example of a message I’ve used to break the ice with a particularly snarky Brooklynite:
“Quite possibly the only person on this site who’s more of a smartass than I am. Well done. Really quickly: love the kickboxing thing (I do it, too), and like you I also have an unnatural addiction to cheese, which I mitigate by running. We’ve probably crossed paths in the park.
Anyway, check out my profile, and if you come away convinced that I’m neither A) a lunatic nor B) a mutant, feel free to drop me a line. Could be fun to talk further. Take it easy.”
I’ve also used similar, shorter variations of this message with non-sarcastic dudes telling them that they seem like-minded and interesting, and always try to keep it brief and lighthearted. As for photos, you guys have seen what’s in my profile – and I added a full-body shot of me crossing a race finish line, per your suggestion.
The funny thing is, with Match at least, you can see who’s viewed your profile and when they did. I can only interpret that to mean that, for the guys that I’ve reached out to who have viewed my page after reading my email but then went radio silent, that they decided they’d rather pass than hit that shit (figuratively.) Ouch.
So, fine. Ew. I didn’t want to date you anyway, Doug in Hells Kitchen. The crosstown commute would’ve sucked. (Just kidding, there’s no Doug in HK. There are, however, a lot of men in Kew Gardens. I don’t even know where the hell that is.)
As for Tinder, I’m just chalking it up to the fact that guys use it as a game, and not a mode of actually meeting women in person in NYC. Like a sexier version of Candy Crush – only with chicks instead of lollipops and gummies. Is it laziness, and they aren’t willing to put forth the effort to set up actual dates? Or do I just need some more duck face bathroom mirror selfies? And yes, if I do the latter, you guys get to choose the color of my thong.
Anyway, I have no means for comparison, so if any of my guy friends on Match or Tinder want to offer their consulting services so I can peruse the female merchandise, now’s your chance. Or maybe it’s just time to join OK Cupid…
Until next time, Wingman faithful, as always I’ll be just winging it.