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He’s asked to meet but he's not showing his teeth in any of the photos.Would it be impolite to ask him to Snapchat me a gum-shot, so I can be sure he's not a toothless hick?If you believe the hype, a growing number of people like me are getting repetitive strain injury from swiping 'yes' to intimate invitations from relative strangers.Tinder uses your existing social networking data from Facebook to locate people in the immediate vicinity, tell you a bit about them, whether you have any friends in common and (most importantly) show you a pic.It seems northern men are better at smalltalk and far more fond of vests.When you depart from more densely populated urban areas, you have to cast your geographic net wider. Bye." But up here I find myself more forgiving of the profiles, pouncing on any within a 30-mile radius who seem to have the slightest grasp of grammar.His main profile pic includes three of his mates (those are almost worse than the sneaky selfies because you don't know if you've pulled an alpha male or his loser friend) but we have a mutual acquaintance who assures me he's a "safe bloke". He's exactly the sort of 20-something that Tinder or Ok Cupid would welcome: hip, active on social media, possibly polygamous (a cheat), but authentic and upfront about it.I’m honest about being a writer but I don't rein in my flirting.

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Tinder totally complements my lazy and attention-seeking personality. It usually takes me a few drinks to start talking to strangers but, thanks to my i Phone, I'm now virtu-flirting while I wee.

But most people talk about Tinder, Grindr, Ok Cupid,, and others in the context of a city, with endless choice, infinite swipes. In Boston, before Greg, I had turned to online dating, using Ok Cupid, and it basically worked. It seemed oddly closer to the experience of meeting someone in, say, a bar–all context beyond gut feeling and fast-track aesthetics removed–despite the fact that I was at home in sweatpants on my couch.

I went on some good dates, some bad dates, a whole lot in between. In Hudson, as a recently single 31-year-old woman, I couldn’t bring myself to type Ok Cupid’s address into my browser. On weekend nights he tended bar at the popular watering hole a few blocks from my apartment. When I encountered the picture of someone I knew from town, however, I freaked out and hastily deleted the entire app from my phone, only to download it again the following day. It didn’t take long before I ran out of men on Tinder. But upstate Tinder was different than city Tinder and Hudson was not a place teeming with lawyers and doctors and Ph Ds in chemistry. On one of my last nights in Hudson, before I moved back to Boston for another job, I went to the bar with some friends.

I promptly get trigger-happy and tick "yes" to a local lad who “likes” me too. Maybe I'm being a tad picky for someone using a free hookup app?

On closer inspection, his pics are all selfies, which screams "I’m vain and don’t have any friends to take pics of me.” Another cutie introduces himself with a coy "heyyy" (words are stretched out on Tinder, for some reason – "How are you? ") but I note his height in comparison to his friends in group shots. Tuesday My sociopathic curiosity and appetite for constant validation are fuelled by Tinder's addictive swipe function.

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