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My Completely Reasonable Personal Standards For Tinder

My Completely Reasonable Personal Standards For Tinder

Tinder is stupid. At this point, I pretty much treat it like any other mobile game I have on my phone. It’s an exercise in calculated thumb movements, that serves to occupy my time when I’m trying to distract myself, and only occasionally delivers any sort of actual satisfaction. Hell, Solitaire is a more interesting diversion half the time. So like any decent game, I’ve developed a system, a set of rules governing my strategy, if you will. Here are the things that will get a girl an automatic yes or no from me. Everything else is a grey area.

Automatic Swipe Right:

Being attractive.

Quoting any author, entertainer, or movie that I consider respectable.

Holding a gun in any of your photos.

The mere mention of Netflix in your bio.

Having a passing resemblance to any celebrity that I’ve ever had a crush on.

Having a passing resemblance to any of my friends’ moms I had a crush on growing up.

Having a passing resemblance to pretty much anyone I’ve ever had a crush on.

Owning a dog that I want to play with.

Pictures of you with food that even Guy Fieri would worry about causing heart problems.

Having a cool job.

Sports memorabilia in the background on the wall of your apartment. It’s subtle, and makes me think you might actually give a shit about sports.

Creative swearing.

Automatic Swipe Left:

Being unattractive.

Quoting any author, entertainer, or movie that I consider reprehensible, especially Marilyn Monroe.

Having more than one bathroom mirror selfie.

The presence of a cat in your pictures.

Being vegan.

Calling the Kardashians “inspirational.”

Pictures with your girls in a nightclub. I don’t want to go to that nightclub.

The number of emojis outweighing the number of actual words in your bio.

Hiking photos.

Posting a link to your blog.

Wearing a jersey in any of your pictures. It’s not subtle, and makes me think you’re just trying to look like you give a shit about sports.

Use of the word “polyamory,” or basically poly-anything, you weirdo.

Having a profile picture with a hot friend that tricks me into thinking you’re the hot friend, only to find out from subsequent pictures that you are not the hot friend.

Announcing your politics, no matter what they are.

Mentioning yoga more than once.

So that’s it. It’s definitely not the extent of the things that I look at, but it’s a good sampling of what will immediately get me on board with talking to you vs. the things that will make me flick my thumb faster than an Aggie in a shitty bar when he sees someone in a maroon shirt walk in.

By the way, I’m deleting Tinder soon. I say that every day, but I mean it this time.

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Randall J. Knox

Randall J. Knox (known colloquially to his friends as "Knox") left his native Texas a few years ago, and moved to Los Angeles in his '03 Buick Regal named LeRoi to write movies with his jackass college buddies. His favorite things in life include bourbon that's above his pay grade, mix CDs, and Kevin Costner films. He isn't sure what "dad jeans" are exactly, but he knows he wants a pair.

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