Tinder is a popular app. It’s infamous among college students both for crazy experiences and great hook ups. Recently there has been an increase in conversation about what to expect with Tinder and how to be safe while using it. Though important conversations to have, I found that no one was talking about what I desperately needed to discuss. The affect this social media app had on my mental health.
Tinder is simple. Swipe right for ‘yes I’m interested’, swipe left for ‘No I’m not interested’, or swipe up for ‘I’m very interested’. People use Tinder for all different reasons, some may be looking for a one-night stand while others may be looking for something a bit more serious. Regardless of what you’re looking for, you’re expected to give an attractive and interesting first impression purely from your first name, age, several photos of yourself and a short bio (Even though let’s be honest…usually all people need is a single photo to make their swipe decision).
I first made a Tinder after an incredibly painful break up. I had found a rebound guy at school, but it didn’t seem to be enough for me to get over my ex-boyfriend. After my best friend made a Tinder and began giggling as she showed me her finds, I grew excited with the potential idea of making one for myself. So later that night, I crawled into bed and began sorting and rating my own photos, trying to determine what would make me most attractive to the opposite sex. I became carelessly obsessed with swiping through potential hook ups and/or future relationships, not realizing the danger zone I would soon enter. My mental health was taking a toll through this addictive swiping.
A fair amount of my problems I faced may be attributed to separate issues I faced long before Tinder; self-esteem issues, the need to be loved, loneliness, etc, but what used to not have a tool for feeling short-term relief from these problems quickly became temporarily solved every time I got a match.
Tinder became an addiction. Regardless of what other’s may say or think of that statement, it truly did become an addiction. Similar to receiving a text or Snapchat notification, receiving a notification that a guy I found attractive showed interest in me caused all of these endorphins to be released that weren’t being released otherwise. I felt so good every time I got a new match or message. It was an adrenaline rush to experience the possibility of romance or even just a casual hook up. The first few weeks of Tinder were exciting and busy, being exposed to a pool of college students nearby. However, as my time on Tinder increased, so did my loneliness. It didn’t matter how many matches I acquired, (reaching upwards of 400 at one point), the barbarity of the process was wrecking me all while experiencing the constant release of endorphins.
I began to believe that my own self-worth came from my appearance and what guys thought of me. It was hard to ignore the fact that a certain number of guys quickly swiped left on my profile, like I had found myself doing to other guys as well. I was subliminally taught that I was only worthy of a relationship if I was attractive. It didn’t matter if I had anything else to offer, my first photo ultimately decided my worth.
I was lucky to only be on Tinder for a week or so before I started talking to a guy I eventually ended up dating for a few months. Once my whirlwind romance with this guy I truly had feelings for abruptly ended, I found myself wanting to try something new. Infamous college hook ups. My mental health was at an all-time low, my mental illness completely taking over my life. Since I had spent the past three months using Tinder as a way to find happiness and acceptance, I felt it would be the easiest way to get out of the rut I was stuck in. And so, I made the incredibly dumb decision to meet guys at their apartments who I had not met previously. It seemed so typical of college students, I couldn’t see the problem with what I was doing. I felt like I was doing something normal and I acted recklessly, not thinking of what I would be feeling in the upcoming weeks.
After experiencing one too many painful relationships, I made the rash decision to delete my Tinder, thus losing all the matches I had once held so high. I’ve had many fleeting moments where I have almost made one again, only to once again remember the pain that was brought upon me the past few months. I still have a long way to go, as I still keep in contact with several guys through Snapchat (and engage in some self-destructive behavior while I’m at it). I do miss the excitement of talking to a new guy ostensibly whenever I wanted, but I’m also beginning to learn that myself worth comes from myself.
Tinder can be a lot of fun and may even help you find love. I completely believe that. I may even make one again (a long time from now) to make dating a bit easier for me. Although I don’t think Tinder is necessarily to blame for all of this, I do recommend that if you have a Tinder you take a step back and just think about how it makes you feel, why and at what cost. My mental health was affected and the self-esteem risks should be known.
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