When it came down to it, was I really going to go over to a 24-year-old bartender's apartment at 10 p.m. No, the days when that would've been appealing — if ever — had long passed.But gradually the average age of my matches crept up, and I soon noticed a very real shift in the ways in which I engaged with people on the app — and that they were responding more sincerely to the message I was sending with my profile.Tinder is "stupid and harmful because it only makes romantic human connection harder." It is also "a factory and you shouldn't pretend it's even vaguely romantic." And let's not forget that "the adult consequence of living with one’s decisions doesn’t really exist when the next best thing is only a swipe away."Most of the discussion around Tinder has focused on its core demographic: twentysomethings, gay and straight, in urban areas (New York and Los Angeles, where I live, are its two biggest markets), who seem to use Tinder to hook up, boost or masochistically deflate their ego, and/or issue sweeping, usually disparaging pronouncements about everyone they've ever encountered on it.But I've now come to realize that even though all of the press around Tinder focuses on its popularity with twentysomethings, it's actually the perfect app for someone in their thirties, or older, to find love.
There are, of course, exceptions to every single rule, but I found that the people on Tinder in their thirties were, generally, more receptive to the idea of being in a relationship than you would expect. I spent most of my twenties in a series of relatively short-lived monogamous relationships.
First it helped me figure out what I wasn't looking for.
And that might not be what you're not looking for, and that's fine!
Or if they did, they were keeping it a secret, like me.
So my boyfriends were guys I met in grad school, or at work, or through friends, or, once, at the optician.