When our author became single again after twelve years, she ventured into the world of digital dating. A field report.
In free fall into the unknownEmir Šehanović for the Berliner Zeitung at the weekend
In the last decade, there have been two things I’ve been proud of, for reasons entirely inexplicable. First: I have never eaten a doner kebab. Second, I’ve never seen the inside of a dating app. What does that say about me? That I don’t like eating meat, I’m probably and pretty sure in a relationship, or rather I was. Spoiler alert: I’ve tried both now, and I’m absolutely addicted to one!
I was in a committed relationship for twelve years. Twelve years! That’s two years longer than Tinder. That makes giant after Adam? Exactly, getting to know each other far away from matches and super matches. Quite old school, with looks, a shy smile, followed by a long chat, before sharing the taxi home. Back then we got to know each other in a way that was analogue, Mark Zuckerberg would fall off his chair.
“Where do you like to spend a hot summer day?”
That an app can replace such getting to know each other was beyond my imagination. And with this point of view I didn’t hold back either. As soon as the topic of dating apps came up, I was the first to throw in my extra dose of mustard. Despite the fact that I was usually the only one in the group who had no experience in the field. But how should an app replace the excitement, the appraisal, the poker, the first contact of a real meeting? Don’t facial expressions, gestures and a circle of friends say more about a person than a photo and an answer to the question of where you prefer to spend a hot summer’s day?
I know this question because I downloaded such an app for the first time a few days ago. A yellow one, whose logo is intended to resemble a honeycomb. Because suddenly what they there, the curiosity. Can you try it? At least I wanted to know what to expect in there. Just like back then, when I first visited Berghain. I don’t know if I like it there, but at least I saw the inside of the store. What’s going to happen?
At first nothing really happens. My initial excitement is shattered within a few minutes. These are the guys who live within three miles of me? I’m beyond disappointed and about to snap screenshots of the tense biceps, ill-fitting sunglasses, countless stand-up paddle boards and of course the supposedly “funny” descriptive texts. The only appealing thing that pops up on my phone screen is a few puppies here and there, proudly held up to the camera. But I also swipe away, I’m not an animal person. I soon develop such a left-swiping routine that I promptly send the first cute guy into the digital hunting grounds. Ciao. A pity! If I want to get him back, then I have to pay for it.
When the flirt goes into the analogue world, things get exciting.Emir Šehanović for the Berliner Zeitung at the weekend
Even as I familiarize myself with the app’s simple icons, the penny drops again and I realize that I’m judging flesh-and-blood men by their looks. And even worse – that someone sits on the other side and does the same with my profile. Welcome to the 21st century. I knew it wasn’t for me. I’m about to put the phone down when Martin shows up. Martin is 41 years old, very attractive, and appears to be less than a kilometer from me. Still unsure how to use the app, I carefully swipe to the right for the first time. And boom, a match! i have a match My first! It feels like an iconic moment – so this is what everyone was always talking about… the so-called Match! Absolute beginner euphoria, of course.
Does anyone else go to flat parties?
And what now? Apparently I have to write to Martin, another one of those rules here. It’s my job, writing, so it can’t be that difficult. But what exactly do you text a total stranger you want to meet because of his hamstrings and cute smile? Do I even want to get to know him? Or is the whole thing here just a kind of game that you don’t even have to go outside to play. A pastime at the expense of the feelings of others.
“You’re the first guy here that I don’t completely hate, so it’s my first message on a dating app.” I try honesty. In response, I get a, “Haha, credit me I’m not a complete shit. Welcome to dating hell!”
There are a few more tips from him to take things easy and stay myself, for example. We’ve been writing for a while, and I find the idea that we’re only a few streets apart quite enticing. We will write again the next day. It’s fun for a while, then I lose interest. I don’t look at any more profiles either. Maybe I’ll just do it like I did back then and get to know someone again at a flat share party, I think, quite casually. “Flat Party? When was the last time you went to a flat party? You’re 39!” a friend replied after I told her about my future dating plans. Fuck!
Martin keeps calling. I’m about to jump over my shadow and actually meet it. Maybe it’s not so different from the moment of greeting as it was back then in the club. Am I too romantic for this new way of getting to know each other? Or am I just jittery because I’m completely out of practice?
I’m trying not to take it too seriously, but I can see how frustrating this app world can get when you’re desperate for a relationship. Meanwhile I tried the kebab – and I love it! Because sometimes that’s the way it is with things you didn’t know before, they make you want more. I open the app and write to Martin: Fancy a doner kebab?