Hurlstone In Progress: To Hinge or not to Hinge?
In the middle of my first year, when I felt like I was haunting campus like some social ghost, I decided to download Hinge. It wasn’t exactly a grand romantic gesture, more of a ‘why not’ moment brought on by boredom and mild loneliness.
I told myself it was just to put myself out there. That, and maybe to remind me I was still capable of human interaction beyond my limited friends and excruciating seminars. And, honestly, it’s been fun. There’s something cheekily validating about seeing a steady stream of people ‘liking’ you. Especially when, at the time, I didn’t feel particularly good-looking or confident. Club get-togethers felt too scary, and my flirting skills were embarrassingly awful.
Scrolling through Hinge became a social activity. I’d sit with my friends, and we’d analyse the prompts or responses I got. My personal highlight was a man who just replied to a photo of me with ‘smash’ – charming. It became part sport, part sociology experiment.
Of course, Hinge has its share of gleaming red flags – people who just say they ‘like blondes’ or that their typical Sunday is ‘gym’
And yet, I actually think Hinge, and Hinge users, get a worse reputation than they deserve. For me, it’s been more positive than tragic. I’ve met a few people through it – some nice, some funny, some who hadn’t processed their ex. None have turned into boyfriends, but it’s been refreshing just meeting people I wouldn’t have otherwise.
There’s a confidence that comes with it too. Even if nothing romantic follows, talking to strangers makes you braver. When you’ve already survived a conversation about someone’s ‘favourite shape of pasta’, chatting to people in real life – especially if they are nice, with a bonus if they end up actually being attractive – doesn’t feel so intimidating.
Making the profile is really a highlight – picking photos your friends swear are your best and writing prompts that balance humour with ‘I’m actually normal!’
Of course, Hinge has its share of gleaming red flags – people who just say they ‘like blondes’ or that their typical Sunday is ‘gym’ or that their biggest risk ever taken was ‘downloading Hinge’, while being photographed topless next to a car that definitely isn’t their own. But these guys are easy to spot for the most part. Still, I think most people are just looking for someone vaguely normal to go for a drink with.
Another benefit of Hinge is that it’s very easy to filter out people who just aren’t of your persuasion. The political preference section of the bio is very informative. If someone has written ‘moderate’, I know instantly they are a shy Tory with a low-tax justification speech ready to recite. ‘Liberal’ is safe territory, and I can only assume that ‘other’ means chaos. The only thing I’m sure of is that this filter has saved me from some deeply troubling interactions – nothing kills romance faster than a man explaining inheritance tax as foreplay.
Making the profile is really a highlight – picking photos your friends swear are your best and writing prompts that balance humour with ‘I’m actually normal!’ The surprise of seeing someone you recognise on there is also entertaining, even more so if they appear in your likes.
So yes, I am pro-Hinge. Not because it’s guaranteed to find you love, but because it reminds you that you’re likable, even if it is to an eclectic bunch
You also don’t have to be effortlessly cool or know how to make suggestive eye contact in a club to do well on Hinge. You can just exist – a person with some cringey prompts and photos – and still get a message from someone who thinks you seem nice. For all its weirdness, there is something quite sweet about that.
So yes, I am pro-Hinge. Not because it’s guaranteed to find you love, but because it reminds you that you’re likeable, even if it is to an eclectic bunch. If you’re feeling lonely, bored, or stuck meeting the same people, download Hinge. Talk to people. Go for drinks. Worst case? You get a funny story. Best case? You get a date who actually replies.
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