On Tinder, online dating, and why @lychee makes too many polls

(Current Playlist: Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso OST - Disc 1)​

A blog post and not a poll? Huh? What blasphemy is this?! I thought @lychee was only good for making polls. Why write a blog post all of a sudden?

Well, to be honest, I actually wanted to create a poll, but I thought about it for a second and decided that maybe the content would be too explicit, and the thread might get locked. I'm not exactly fond of collecting warnings from the mods, so I'll stay on the side of being a good citizen for now!

What was the idea? Um, maybe I'll share it at the end of the post.

For now, I'll write a proper blob post and walk you through what's currently running in my head.

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On Tinder, online dating, and why @lychee makes too many polls
@lychee writes stuff - blog post #4

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I think in the dozens of polls I've made, I inevitably get questions like:

Nuffians are quite fun to watch, aren't they? At least, I find the responses amusing a lot of the time.

Anyways, to actually answer this seriously (since @lychee takes everything too seriously ), it's mostly because my hobby is being curious and wanting to understand the world better. In particular, I find human beings to be strange, and I want to understand why we do many of the things that we do.

In Gatchaman Crowds (which is incidentally my favorite anime), Ninomiya Rui constantly refers to a need to "update" the world.

Not to totally misappropriate the quote, but sometimes I feel like I want to constantly "update" my understanding of the world. On one side, there's perception, and the other side is reality. As single persons, each of us see so little of the world. No matter how worldly we think we are, we all live in our own bubble, and we only communicate with roughly the same people from day to day.

Our view ("perception") of the world is therefore always distorted, because we are forced to see the broader world through the curvature of the bubble we each live within.

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Do you ever find the fact the bubble to be stifling?

I don't know. Many of us are fine with it, because some of us also don't see that it's there. Lots of us are fine with seeing the world through the black and white lens in the culture that we grew up to learn. There are good guys and there are bad guys. There are gangsters and there are police officers. There are crazy psychotic people and normal people.

There is an "us group" and there is a "them group", and inevitably we'd always prefer to see ourselves as the protagonists.

Is that stifling at all?

I don't know. At least, I itch to want to "update" this fragmented perception of the world of mine whenever I can. I know that my perception of the world is usually more imaginary than real, and every time I talk to someone or read something new, I hope that they will be able to help me "update" the fog that obscures the glass around our bubbles.

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The Internet really is an incredible place.

How many people do you think we physically interact with in a lifetime? According to an infographic from Funders & Founders, if you estimate that we live to age 80, and we interact with three brand new people every day, in our lifetimes, we interact with around 80,000 people. At age 20, that number is kind of like a quarter of that.

Can you imagine making a generalization about the world as a whole based on 0.000263157% of the world population? How can we assume that we know anything about the world based on solely with what we see with our own eyes?

This is especially the case when we consider our daily routines. What is the route that you take every day to school or work? How many new things do we really see every day? The fact is that we surround ourselves with people who are most like ourselves. Chances are, your friends are similar to you and your community is similar to you. No matter how "diverse" of an education you supposedly have, going to school in Cambridge isn't anything you can really compare to going to school in Harlem. For that matter, have you ever visited a prison or a homeless shelter?

In the end, the Internet really is incredible, because if you use it in the right way, you can meet and encounter people that ordinarily you would never talk to.

And safely, too. That part is definitely a consideration (especially if you're a girl).

All from the comfort of your home.

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Ah yes, I'm a huge fan of Humans of New York too.

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Generally speaking, the way I see it is that there are two ways to see the world better.

The first is to collect anecdotes.

The second is to collect data.

Both are extremely powerful, and are useful each in their own ways. All of us are used to making inferences about the world based on anecdotes that we hear, so that one is not difficult to understand. Perhaps you have a friend's parent who passed away from lung cancer and smoked too much. Perhaps you saw the little fat kid being bullied when you were little. Perhaps you didn't.

Our lives are a mosaic collage of all the anecdotes that we experience.

Data is a little bit more complicated.

Just learning about something in school doesn't make it data. Just because a teacher told you something, all that means is that you received information from an authority figure and now you believe it. God is an authority figure too, for that matter, and so is the government. There's nothing wrong with authority figures. Authority figures are important because they teach us to live in socially acceptable ways within our societies, and sometimes it isn't always a beneficial thing to be the sore nail that sticks out too much.

What is a data?

To me, data is a little bit more refined than maybe the statistics that you find online. Rather, personally I view it more like a process -- the scientific method (as cheesy as that sounds) -- if you will. In a sense, it is the process of challenging what you believe and testing what you believe.

It's really easy to think: "Oh, girls are less aggressive than boys."

But how do you really know for sure?

There are 7.6 billion people in the world. Can you really conclude that girls are less aggressive than boys just because you saw your brother beat up another person, and your sister doesn't strike back no matter how much she is bullied at school?

I don't know?

Data is valuable because drawing all our conclusions from anecdotes easily can lead us into the trap of arriving at completely erroneous conclusions. Anecdotes are biased in essence. How do we achieve a more unbiased view of the world?

Answer: conduct an experiment, collect data, and try to control for bias as much as we can.

Perhaps we will be presented with a result that will force us to "update" our understandings about the world.

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Sometimes, you can find articles that can really surprise your previous assumptions.

This sort of brings me into the topic that I originally wanted to write this blog post around.

(took you long enough, right?!)

(the probably is that I'm kind of tired now... haa... haaa...)

(anyways, ganbatte! push on!)

So I read the New York Times, just like you might except from fujoshi-feminist-sjw-apache-helicopter-apologist-weird-communist-add-another-liberal-slur-here like me. I mostly read it when I'm eating (terrible manners, I know! ), and occasionally I read stuff that makes me think.

One column that I enjoy reading is Modern Love.

Why? Hmm... I'm not sure. Maybe because it's intriguing? Maybe because it's full of crazy experiences I'll probably never experience but I'm still very curious about? (sorry, this @lychee is taken already ) I'm not married yet, but sometimes I just wonder what is all this strange stuff that I don't bother with because I'm in a long-term committed relationship, and since I'm extraordinary lucky, I'm still with the same person who I had my first kiss with like 6 years ago.

<--- This one hasn't really been single in a long time...

In fact, I've been dating the same person long enough that I never got to experience Tinder, lol.

Tinder was launched in 2012! I never got to try it out because I'm already in a relationship!



Okay, I'm just kidding. I'm not serious about wanting to to experience Tinder, but I started wondering today what it must really like for people who use it.

For that matter, how many people use Tinder in the first place? Surely maybe you know one or two friends who use Tinder, but can we like get numbers here? Is it like 20% of the youth in your area? 15%? Something like that? How do you even answer this question?

I kind of googled this question, and apparently according to one survey, a stunning:

Is that number even right at all? That's a way larger number than I expected. Sounds suspicious. Though, then again, it's not like most of "nuffians" are "normal" -- XD you kind of have to be at least somewhat of a reclusive person to be on NUF in the first place.

Then again, the article goes on to follow up that actually most millennials use Tinder mostly because they use it for confidence/ego-boosting. In fact:

So in other words, if you believe the survey and plug it into your calculator, 21% of millennial college students use Tinder to hook up with people. That's about 1 in every 5, which I guess is a number that's a lot more believable, and I guess I could accept that.

Still, that's a lot!

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What got me thinking about this topic?

I guess it would be a good idea to include the article that I was reading that sparked this entire blog post:

(Please don't shoot me for copy-pasting the article -- click the link here if you want to read on original site):

Spoiler: For Best Hookup Results, Use Your Words, O.K.?

On Modern Love By GABRIELLE ULUBAY JAN. 12, 2018

I had invited him over only for sex, so when I woke the next morning to the sight of him putting on his pants, I said, “Do you need me to walk you out?”

“No, I’m just going to use the bathroom,” he said. “I’d like to stay, if that’s O.K.”

And it was. So he stayed for the rest of the day, never more than a few inches from me. We left the room only to use the bathroom or to shuffle to the kitchen for snacks. Meanwhile, my roommates laughed, gossiping about my “sexcapade with the cute guy from Tinder.”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he said. “I can’t believe we met on Tinder.”

I had never been the girl of anyone’s dreams — not even my own. I always imagined the quintessential girl of men’s dreams to be taller than me, thinner, more poised and blond. But my lover insisted, and we lounged on top of each other until late in the afternoon.

Later, I said, “Do you usually have sex with girls the night you meet them?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Why, do I come off as a slut?”

I laughed nervously. “Of course not.”

Finally, he answered: “Not really, no. I mean, I wouldn’t turn sex down, but I wouldn’t go looking for it, either.”

After a minute, I asked, “Do I come off as a slut?”

His voice softened. He wrapped his arms tighter around me. “No, not at all. You actually come off as a lady.”

Maybe he wanted it to sound like a compliment, but my doubts about his sincerity made it feel more like a blow. I wondered if he was lying to make me feel better or to ensure more sex later.

As a child, I was always told, “Use your words” — shorthand for saying precisely what I mean and what I expect from people. As an adult, I’ve noticed that a lot of people aren’t very good at using their words, especially before and after hookups. Few ever seem to say precisely what they mean or what they expect.

Regardless, I smiled and said, “Really? Thank you.” I kissed him on the cheek, the temple, the forehead. “And you come off as a gentleman.”

And he did. But I secretly hoped that he was the same as me, that his chest also simmered with hidden indiscretions, and that the speed with which we slept together was as typical for him as it was for me. Because if it wasn’t, I would have to wonder if, upon discovering the truth, he would recoil. I would have to wonder if he would think of me as dirty or morally deficient, even though he already said he found me gentle.

“Wow, you’ve got a beautiful smile,” he said, idly stroking my waist, my stomach, my hips, my thighs. “You’re really the full package.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I know I don’t,” he said. “But I mean it.”

He told me I was smart, funny, creative. “You’ve got good karma, Gab,” he said.

I said, “You see things in me I didn’t know were visible.”

I don’t know why I fell for it, especially when I hadn’t even gone looking for it. For some reason I’ve always been susceptible to thinking my life would be vastly improved by the solution to a single problem. In high school, I thought, “It will all get better when the braces come off,” or “when my skin clears up” or “when I go to college.”

And now, older and supposedly wiser, I find myself thinking it will all get better when I find romance. When I have a man who wants me despite how fallible, loud or political I can be. Someone who, with a kiss, can snap me out of my self-pitying reverie. I think about how long I’ve been ready to find the beauty in another human being, to caress the scars of someone as flawed as me and to feel that person reciprocate.

That night I hadn’t been looking for romance, but my two-time lover embedded himself in my consciousness when he told me I was the girl of his dreams, and I can’t help but think how cruel that was, considering how it all turned out. Our goodbye was a kiss on the mouth and a wink as he stepped off the subway.

He had grinned and said, “I’ll see you later,” but he never saw me again. I have since learned that “later” means the same thing it did when I was a child and wanted to do something extravagant: It means “I don’t want to” or “If I feel like it.”

Now I’m told, “You only like him because he flattered you,” and “Good sex can trick you into thinking you like anyone.”

“What did you expect, Gab?” my friend said. “You can’t form a connection with somebody that fast.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t mean to. This felt different.”

She sighed. “Your problem is that you jump into things too quickly.”

“O.K. …”

I thought there must be something terribly, medically wrong with me if I could so badly misinterpret a situation. I wanted to see a doctor. I wanted a diagnosis. I wanted to ask my lover if he had found himself disappointed, if I wasn’t who he wanted me to be.

My friends tell me I need to love myself. I’m told this will make my life better, much in the way braces and clear skin were supposed to make me beautiful. When I ask how to do this, my friends become philosophers and say, “You need to find it within yourself.” Their advice is so abstract that I wonder if they, too, have searched and cannot find it.

How do I search within myself? I imagine reaching down my throat and rummaging until I find some bright little mass labeled “self-love.” It has been hiding, perhaps behind some bothersome organ or within the folds of a stubborn muscle. And when I find this magical panacea, I will say, “Oh, there you are. Where have you been all this time?” And I will set it back inside of me, this time in the correct place.

My question is: How will I know when I have found this thing that I never realized I lost, and what will happen when I do?

But I don’t really think my problem is a lack of self-love. I enjoy sex for its own sake every bit as much as a man does, and I’m honest about that. What confuses matters is all this sweet talk, followed by the vanishing act.

“Ghosting is the most cowardly way to end a relationship,” I once said to a male friend in a room with a guy who had ghosted me years before.

“Would you really rather someone tell you to your face that they don’t have feelings for you?” my friend said.

“I’d rather have that than be made to feel like an idiot,” I said.

Not too long after, a man I slept with told me I was beautiful while we were walking to my apartment in the middle of the night. He caressed the back of my hand with his thumb and smiled, but it meant nothing — under the orange glow of streetlights, I knew, even broken glass looks stunning.

“I feel so lucky right now,” he said. “I can’t believe a girl like you would give me the time of day.”

I texted him the next week, but he never responded. Annoyed, I noted that I wouldn’t even have thought to text him if he hadn’t blanketed me with such gratuitous flattery.

And then my two-time lover called me a lady. He added me on Facebook and told me to keep in touch. He said my skin was soft and my smile was beautiful and he couldn’t believe he had found someone like me.

He said, “I’m never mean to girls.”

I smiled. “So you’re a self-proclaimed nice guy?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” I said, draping my leg over both of his. He slid his arm beneath my head like a pillow. “But I don’t want a guy to be nice to me just because he feels obligated to, you know? I want him to be nice because he means it.”

“That makes sense,” he said, tangling a hand in my hair and kissing me on the forehead.

I don’t wander into casual sex expecting it to yield a relationship. I have never understood why some guys seem to think flattery is the key to a bedroom they’ve already been welcomed into. They say they would love to date me and then wonder why, the next day, I think they want to date me.

I neither require the flattery nor deserve the ghosting. With hookups there’s no need to be mean — just say what you mean. Use your words.

What about it? Any thoughts?

Honestly, besides the whole fascination about what the hook-up life might be like, one of the things that caught my eye was this line:

It reminded me of something, because this wasn't the first time that I heard a guy a say something like that.

Yet I couldn't help but wonder at that point, how often is it actually that there are guys that think this like? How often is it that there are girls that think like this?

And why?

I guess this is an example of something where I feel like I am different from some other people in the world. I wish I could hear a little bit more about why guys like this feel this way? Maybe I would understand better if I could hear someone say it with their own words?

I kind of a had an urge to make a poll on this topic ("would you turn sex down if you were offered it by a somewhat attractive acquaintance whom you know nothing about") but totally decided against it.

XD Parth wouldn't be happy, for sure.



Anyways, this blog post completely fell apart.

I think I was too ambitious in the beginning, got distracted/derailed, and didn't end up spending enough time on the thing I actually want to write about. Oh well! It happens! If you managed to read this entire monster of a thing, good for you! Quite some skills you have to be able to read this ramble!

That's all for tonight! It's late and @lychee is tired.

Goodnight~

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( Don't you wish your bedroom was like Hajime's?? It's so fluffy! )