Swipe right, swipe left, there is no center. I compulsively resurrect my dating apps for hour blitzkriegs before deleting again. This is usually how my profile looks. On first dates, I consider topicsβlike my abortion, therapy, religion, and plans to have or not to have kids one dayβfair game.
Strangely enough, I am also perpetually single. Still, it is a deft screening process to weed out the easily intimidated and pro-lifers. However, the age of Trump has rightfully inspired previously politically indifferent people to raise their voices. Even if your Facebook feed this time last year was quiet politically, those cool dog photos were likely just holding the place of the adrenaline-fueled urges to call state senators that exist now.
So like any good reporter, I dusted off my Tinder account to see how this reinvigorated energy has affected the casual dating landscape and changed online romance from when I was swiping before the November election. After all, my best friend just got engaged in the freaking Chilean fjords to some dude she met on Tinder. Maybe now was my chance for a similar fairytale experience, a shot at liberal forever love.
My vampire-pale body is smattered with more than a dozen tattoos. Also, a quick Google of my name reveals long-ago attempted forays into sex work. As such, I rarely Tinder match with men in uniform or those posting Bible verses to their profiles. A cop! Given a few certain truths about me , sadly, we can never date. For the sake of diversity, I generously swiped right on a variety of men to see whenβand ifβthe conversation got political.
Kindred spirits? For the bulk of the vacation, my friend and I would take breaks to gorge on the news, becoming further distraught with each additional piece of bad news, including the travel ban.
