I Try Tinder

I guess it’s really hard for bodybuilders to find love. And guys who ride motorcycles. And guys with full sleeves and collars of tattoos and giant lumbersexual beards. At least according to what I see on Tinder.


Half of the guys are personal trainers, with not only the requisite shirtless bathroom selfie, but the shirtless Stand Up Paddle Boarding shot, shirtless on the beach shot, shirtless lifting heavy weights at the gym shot, and finally, the shirtless, pantsless, speedo-wearing, trophy-wielding, bodybuilding championship shot. How many body building champions can there be? And are they all on Tinder?

Everyone else in the world certainly seems to be. I’ve seen at least half a dozen guys I know casually on there – a bartender in my neighborhood, a friend of a former friend, and – awkward – not one but two of the neighbors in my building. That’s a little too close for comfort. Especially because I can be pretty sure that if I’ve seen them on there, they’ve seen me. I used up 498 of my 500 characters (though three of those characters are emojis) describing myself and what I’m looking for, and clarifying that only those looking for a meaningful relationship should contact me.

Am I deluded to be looking for love on Tinder? And can I ever find it in a sea of muscles, motorcycles, tats and hipster lumberjacks?

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