For absolutely no reason whatsoever I decided to document my first 48 hours on Hinge. I’d seen other people talking about their awful experiences on the dating app, so I figured that my first ever time on there would probably be a “fun” experience.
Spoiler: Fun is a fuckin’ strong word.
48 Hours on Hinge
Let’s kick things off with a little background. To start with, I haven’t been on a dating site for more than a decade. I met Bear on either PoF or Tinder, then went straight from that relationship into the Sambuca situationship, and we didn’t exactly date.
I haven’t dated in more than a decade, online or otherwise. It might even be longer than that, because I went straight from my Brown Eyes relationship into my Bear one, within a couple of weeks, if that.
I have absolutely no clue how to date now. Zilch.
I certainly had no clue what to write in my profile, but I whacked out some witty lil’ things, then added six photos: full-length, exciting thing I did, close selfie, far mirror selfie, full-length doing something cute, and another one with barely-there makeup to give the illusion that I might be pretty bare-faced. (I’m not.)
And this, is what happened during my first 48 hours on Hinge:
Two Minutes
Less than two minutes in and I’ve got my first Hinge like: a fella with six group photos and absolutely no hint as to which one he was. Awesome. I bet it’s the bald one. It’s always the bald one.
❌ because he was clearly too stupid to understand dating sites.
Four Minutes
I’ve just been liked by some fella with a hedgehog on his shoulder. It sure beats the drugged-up tiger or look-what-I-caught fish… but still, a hedgehog?! My family used to rehab injured hedgehogs when I was kid, and I never got a shoulder shot.
❌ because I’m jealous.
Ten Minutes
Men, I beg of you, stop doing that weird thing with your eyes, where you try to look as hard/tough/hench as possible but actually make yourself look like a right psycho instead. You’re on a dating site. Why are you out here, trying to Patrick Bates me?
❌ times 10 because I’m scared, y’all.
Twenty Minutes
I’ve matched with two men, both bearded baldies, who immediately sent messages saying, “Hi xx.”
Seriously? Not even a hastily thrown in, “how are ya?” Just hi?
❌ because what even is that for a first message?
Also: Little Miss I-don’t-have-a-type definitely has a type.
Thirty Minutes
Speaking of types, Little Miss I-like-feminine-women just liked four masc fems in a row. Ya girl has no idea what her type is, but she sure does seem to love those mascs.
This is the first time I’ve ever gone full bisexual on a dating app. Eeek.
A whole new woooooorrrrllllld.
Forty Minutes
You know, I’m starting to think that I’m not bisexual at all. Maybe I’m straight but just heavily attracted to like, three very specific types of women. I mean, I’m also heavily attracted to like, three very specific types of men too… maybe I’m just weird?
Fifty Minutes
I think I’ve found something I’d like to try on. Guess what he looks like? Mmhmm, bald and bearded. I’ve definitely got a type. When did that happen? I blame Bear. This one, throws axes and goes hiking, though. I could totally hike, right? (lols!)
✅
One Hour
As a self-confessed (and quite happy there*) 5 out of 10, nothing dents my ego quicker or with as much force as being liked by a whole bunch of 2s. And no, I don’t think I’m better than anyone else, but maybe I should start punching higher, with the raging delusion of a straight, middle-aged white man?
I guess we all shoot for the moon with the hope of landing amongst the stars, eh?
*Anything above a 6 feels like a lot of pressure. I can’t be hot every day. I’m a 2 most days, 4-5 some days, and a 6 if I slap a bit of makeup and some Spanx on – and quite comfortable there.
One Hour & Twenty Minutes
The most beautiful woman that I have ever seen in my life just popped up on my screen. Damn straight, we are liking that. Oh, yes, we are. I don’t even care what the rest of her profile looks like; I’m liking that shit anyway.
One Hour & Thirty-Five Minutes
Jesus-fucking-Christ. The hotter-than-hot lady just liked me right back. I’ve just beat Hinge. I’ve won. Nothing else matters in life. Literally nothing. Let that tattooed woman ruin me.
Oh, no… wait. Why is there a man in the rest of her photos? That will teach me for not reading the rest of the profile, wont it? I’m no better than a damn man. The beautiful woman and her boyfriend are looking for a pet/plaything.
Could I be their plaything…?
One Hour & Forty-Five Minutes
What was I even thinking? I’m too jealous for that. I’m going to fall in love with that beautiful, tattooed woman, then get all vengeful on her boyfriend for it. I could definitely be a plaything. Maybe. Perhaps. But not for her. And definitely not for him. Ew.
A very, very sad ❌that I’ll probably regret for the rest of my life.
Two Hours
Remember the bald n’ bearded axe man? Well, we are talking. It is a conversation. A whole-ass conversation… and a free-flowing one too.
Oh, we sure do love a fella with good conversational skills.
Three Hours
I have, apparently, run out of likes for today, and you can get stuffed if you think I’m going to pay to get rejected. Absolutely not.
On the flip side, Axe Man and I are still talking. Yes, that’s right: he has a blog name already. And no, I haven’t told him about the blog. Should I…?
Five Hours
So, I’m still talking to the Axe Man… and things are going well, I think. Nothing else to report because this one has interested me, so no one else exists for a hot minute. Standard.
24 Hours
I’ve seen too many typos today.
Also, I’ve seen too many bearded baldies today.
Oh, and I have seen far too many women who look the same, too.
Why does everyone look the same now? It’s freaking me out.
❌ because I think I might be over Hinge today. We’ll try again tomorrow, folks.
48 Hours
My ‘most compatible with’ is, essentially, a who’s who of literal maniacs. I need to refine my looking-for criteria a little bit more, because why am I being spoon fed spiritual types when that’s pretty much the opposite of what I’m looking for?
I like crystals because they’re beautiful [scientific] pieces of earth magic and not so I can pop them on a grid and meditate. I can’t meditate. I’ve tried. I hate it. There are too many thoughts in my head for it. The only time I was ever successful with meditation was in The Sanctuary Spa in Covent Garden, and that was because of a big massaging chair, a room full of ocean sounds, and the fact that I possibly fell asleep and dreamed the rest. It has also been shut for yonks.
You do you, though.
❌ times a gazillion.
48 Hours on Hinge: Conclusion
Hinge blew up my phone like crazy when I first signed up. For a little while there, I thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. Damn, yes, I’m a lil hottie, you line ‘em right up.
It is important for me to add, though, that I signed up at like, 8pm on a Thursday evening, one week before Christmas. Cuffing season, and all that. Things went super (and frighteningly) quiet in the buildup to the big day, then burst back into life again on the evening of Christmas Day and beyond.
I did have to pause everything on Hinge after approximately six weeks, because the madness was starting to genuinely dent my ego. Am I really a 2? Hinge makes me feel like a 2. I don’t like it.
Where are my 4-6s at?
The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: Axe Man.
Thanks so much for reading my blog today! 🖤
You can read all about my disastrous dating history, right from the beginning, right here: Table of Dating Contents.
Alternatively, why not have a little peek around here:
