Recently, Punch Bowl was able to plant an investigative journalist within the dark, scary place that is Tinder. We are unable to reveal his/her name for the sake of their safety, but below is the story we received:

Last year while I was hanging out in my hall lounge in the quad I heard giggles from some of my hallmates. Naturally, I had to see what was up.

“WE’RE ON TINDER!” Said the one of the girls.

“What’s Tinder?” I replied, young, naïve, and unknowingly in for the ride of my life.

For those of you unfamiliar with my most favorite of apps, Tinder is an app that allows people to see selected pictures and a brief bio of other users. Then, you can slide their picture to one side of the screen if you’re interested in them and the other if not. If both parties swipe to indicate interest, you can then talk sext aggressively flirt with the other person. As a socially awkward, anal retentive, nerd, I obviously took the app FAR too seriously. I was looking for my Tinderella, and I was going to be her Semitic Prince Charming.

I stared at profiles with more focus and eagerness than I had for my first Rebecca Stein lecture, which led my friend to ask me what the fuck I was doing. Clearly, I was looking for my soul mate, wasn’t it obvious? He took my phone from my hands and made snap judgments based solely on if the person in question had all of her teeth.

“Cast a wide net. If they like you and you don’t like them back you don’t have to talk to them…” Who was this guru? Was he my Tinder competition? Why had I been on the app for 4 straight hours looking at 3 profiles? I had some green tea and went off to bed. I woke up with a grin the likes of which may only have been seen on my face after a successful response to a Final Jeopardy question. Why was I smiling? Because I saw the all-too-classic words, “Congratulations, you have a new match,” on my lock screen. It was obviously my love pining for me.

“Hey, what’s up?” I said in the text box.

“That’s it? That’s what you’re going to say… what’s up? Really?”

Did I have something in my teeth? Was I coming on too strong? Was I going to have to wait yet for my Tinderella? A glutton for punishment and apparently ever eager to show my naïveté inexperience idiocy, I apologized gratuitously, explaining how she was the first match I had received.

“Hahaha” (SHE THINKS I’M CUTE FUNNY MARRIAGE MATERIAL?) “well usually guys say pretty crazy stuff right off the bat, you seem like a nice kid, and not too much FYI… HBU”

I knew I’d be going ring shopping soon at this rate. Time to be cool, make her think I’m super-chill, seal the deal. “Getting alc for Fling this weekend… Should be sick!” … I’m fucking awesome, bro… I imbibe alcohol on the daily, with all of my cool friends… NOT (but she doesn’t have to know).

As my dream girl was a freshman at USciences, she was aware of Fling and said she might go to Penn for some parties over the weekend.

“Awesome, maybe we’ll run into each other.” “Yeah, maybeee :)” How many “e’s” were there on that maybe?! Three?! AND A SMILEY!? This is spiraling out of control! She’s SO into me!

I stared at the ceiling and fantasized about my weekend. I’d give her roses chocolate the sloppiest DFMO in ever, and sweep her off her feet. Marriage was almost certain.

Fast forward to Fling… Long story short, I didn’t remember anything after my first beer. After passing out in the mid afternoon, I woke up just in time for some fratting with the hangover of a lifetime. Ever determined to make this Fling the best ever I went out with my friends to a party.

I was mildly to moderately coherent by the time I got to whichever frat my friends brought me too. Then, like an oasis in the desert, the most beautiful of mirages, she stood before me. I made some loud noise in her direction, always the right move, and to my delight, she made one back! YES! I asked her to dance. Not sure why because I don’t dance. I should never dance. Just no. Miraculously, she agreed! I promptly made an ass out of myself on the floor and sealed the deal by, as promised, giving her the sloppiest DFMO in ever.

I was living the dream and laying down the building blocks for a fairytale relationship.

As we parted ways I told her I’d had a great time seeing her and I’d talk to her soon. She grunted something back in what, at the time, was the most loving disgusted tone I’d ever heard.

Let’s just say I had one less match on Tinder the next day.