Super simple stuff and theoretically great, but in practice (for the average and less-attractive like myself) it’s a bit of a self-esteem black hole.
The other thing about Tinder is that it only seems to attract a certain type of person.
From the inevitable ‘there is an entire burger stuck in your teeth’ moment to the brace fetishists who dig ‘a mouth full of custom engineering’, I’ve learnt a lot of valuable lessons about readapting to the dating game with, let’s say, limited oral capabilities.
On top of basically feeling like someone was continually pulling all of my teeth out, the emotional impact of my first few weeks with braces was pretty rough – especially when I started thinking about dating. And so, I stopped staring at my teeth in the mirror on an hourly basis and decided to get over it. My ‘hot date essentials kit’ has now expanded from a clean pair of knickers to a clean pair of knickers and an entire bag of bizarre dental contraptions.
All you have to do is choose your least unflattering picture and write some drivel about yourself and you are good to go.
This doesn’t make me think this is any less awful as a whole though.
For a start you can look for men, women, or both at once, which is already a massive step up.
The layout and general look of the app is much more pleasant too.Furthermore, you can see who “likes” you without having to blindly like them back.People can also rate your pictures, for better or worse (I hope you guys and gals have a thicker skin than I).’ from a nice bloke called Jack, I immediately felt the need to dramatically blurt out that I had train tracks in a manner comparable to confessing that I had ten children from previous marriages or an axe murderer ex-husband. I spent weeks on the phone to mum moaning about how no one would ever kiss me again before realising that a) it wasn’t helping and b) nobody gives a fuck. Having retreated to the toilet to take stock of what I could possibly have said to warrant the serious shift in vibes, I then noticed what was essentially half a salad bar hanging from my front tooth. As I went downtown for the first time with braces, I’m pretty he could hear the voice in my head screaming ‘please don’t shred his dick, please don’t shred his dick…’ While I have since managed to give successful head (after a lot of Saturday afternoons spent trying to deep-throat a banana), I do try and avoid any prolonged action.After learning to keep my brace-induced word vomit in check, I did manage to get a few dates lined up. Eventually, I managed to master the oh-so difficult skills of talking and eating to the extent that a date invited me back to his. And I’m still pretty gutted that a kick-ass oral sesh now strikes the fear of God into me and, usually, my partner.Having been doing it for a year now, I’ve learned that the only way date with braces is to OWN. I’d never really been nervous about kissing with braces. Sure some guys like it (Simon: “I love it, it’s like Russian Roulette for my cock!