Our newest dating column for you to peruse
Written by the effervescent Miss Anonymous Hapa
Let's get real.
"TINDER OR BUMBLE," I blandly asked without looking up from whatever I was doing. “Ugh, Tinder. Ew! This guy again.” My best friend Dana shoved her phone in my face and I saw a blurry outline of a guy on a boat holding up a fish like, “LOOK WHAT ME CATCH FOR YOU, NOW YOU MATCH ME”. His "Interests" were described in emojis, lingering at the very bottom like a "sly" numeric signal of 420 accompanied by a thumbs up emoji.
Dana and I were both dating around, but she had embraced the app culture first. I had a front row seat to witness her trials, tribulations, and minimal victories. I judged so many dick pics sent to her phone during those days that I began to be able to identify, classify, and sort these phalluses by age, mood and sense of humor. Like a sick, sad, anonymous scientist of judgement, I analyzed these “ding-dongs” alongside my friend without remorse - hey, they were the ones who chose to bare all for scrutiny. These guys were skipping the fish pic and thrusting their hotdogs right into our lioness’s den.
Honestly, I began to rely on Dana’s dick pic donors to brighten up my days, but I didn’t want a personal penis montage flowing through my own phone. This was my main argument against letting her create dating accounts for me. Alas, when she met her man and they stayed together for more than 6 months, I started to have more faith in the system. I put on my Big Girl Pants, created accounts on both Tinder and Bumble, and put myself out there. Starting out with a bang:
Guy drove an hour to meet me from his after work happy hour.
Was 40 minutes late and belligerent.
We got into a fight regarding his sobriety (or lack thereof).
and I left.
Gave same guy another shot (WHY?!)
at the end when I wouldn’t go home with him, he replied, “I’m not going to keep trying with you”.
Glad you gave it your all, guy.
This right swipe was sweet, but no wonder why there were zero pics of him smiling.
Zero teeth, accompanied by a chain smoking habit.
When we sat down to dinner, he breathed a sigh of relief, “I needed this...some 21 year-old just broke my heart”.
Me: 30 years old in an alternate universe performing self-flagellation.
Future note to self: adequately stalk future contender’s Facebook profiles before meeting.
I knew I was only three dates deep, but swiping quickly became more of a thumb-sucking act of boredom than a realistic effort to find my true love. Besides, was I really going to drag myself away from my Game of Thrones binge on a delicious rainy night to gussy up, don some Spanx, and meet some stranger?
In reality, this modern dating sh*t takes effort and a lot of uncomfortable moments. I began exploiting the minimal info given through these dating apps by using it to adequately Google/Facebook/IG stalk these f*ckers before committing to any outings. My half-hearted swiping in between Jon Snow scenes started to become like a part-time position, an intricate investigation of each poor soul who might’ve thought my profile pic was cute. This is the part of the story that started to make this whole experience twice as confusing, and perhaps a bit unfair. I started finding Asian girls in many of these guys’ pasts. Coincidence? We all have preferences right? Chronicles to be continued...
Miss Anonymous Hapa (MAH) is proud to write alongside the Hapa Mag staff, just not proud enough to divulge her identity. Composed of mixed-race beauty, millennial style, and questionable decision-making skills, MAH is unafraid to throw herself into the dating world of today. A confident 10, she is here to report her "hot takes" of these 4's and 5's that relentlessly blow up her Tinder.