Tinder: Not To Be Confused With Tender

I joined this “dating” app called Tinder. It’s sorta like Hot or Not meets a straight-and-gay version of Grindr

[For those who feel like they just read Greek… Hot or Not was (is?) a site where you could rank an individual’s “hotness”. Grindr is an app for the gays that tells you all of the men who are looking to hook up in your immediate vicinity.]

Anyway, in a fit of “it’s for the blog!”, I joined Tinder to… well… be in the know (?). On Tinder, there are no profiles to bother with. You are presented with nearby suitors. [Bonus*: the app informs you if you have any mutual facebook friends!] You simply scroll through an individual’s pictures and say yes or no. Then, if that individual ALSO says “yes”, you can message each other. 

I informed a friend from The South that I had joined. Our conversation went thusly:

Me: So. Yeah. Tinder. I don’t really think anything lasting will come if it. 

Him: I dunno. “Tinder!” It sounds like the start of something warm and wonderful. 

Me: Uh… I think your Southern accent is interfering here. You’re thinking of “TENDER”, which would be wonderful and loving. This is “TINDER”, which is like the spark of something hot and fast. 

Him: … Oh… yeah. I’m from The South. 

Anyway, I’ve received a few GEMS. Tinder is a whole new world of Dating-Via-Apple-Device! [*ahem.*]

Suitor 1:

If you were stranded on a desert island and could only bring 1 thing, what would it be? And don’t say a seat because that’s what my face is for. 

Suitor 2:

U like anal?

You guys. I just can’t. I give up. 

*Sarcasm

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OkCupid: Veggies Are Not Just For Eatin’

You guys. I’m toying with the idea of getting rid of OkCupid and enrolling in a sewing class and calling it a day. Of course, then I would miss out on these sorts of gems.

From VeggieLuvr:

I was just at Trader Joes and noticed these two girls in the produce section. They were holding up cucumbers and taking pictures of each other. One of the girls sort of resembled you, so that drew me into your profile. You also caught my eye because you look like genuine person. It seems like most girls on this site are trying to be someone they’re not. Everybody sort of seems the same. Do girls pose with phallic-shaped vegetables to impress guys?? If more people acted real and stopped posing with cucumbers I think the world would be a better place 

Anyway, my name is VeggieLuvr. If you’re into guys who enjoy long walks on the beach, sunsets, etc. etc. etc. then you should reply back to me.

And then, a few days later, from VeggieLuvr AGAIN:

Similar scenario happened again, except this time I was at Whole Foods… You’ll never guess it, but I saw the same two girls AGAIN, both taking pictures of each other. Maybe they think that putting up pictures of themselves in the produce section displays their humanity? Now I’m just confused… 

I’d love to talk more about crazy girls and phallic shaped vegetables, but I’m a bit pressed for time right now. You can either get back to me here or just text me at 201-555-5555.

And then, because I had a sneaking suspicion that this was some sort of formulaic bullshit, I did a quick google search. Lo and behold, I was not the only recipient of the veggie lovin’ OKC message. What is this world coming to?

I just.

No.

PS. It’s way too hot for love anyway. I’d rather spend my evenings making out with my air conditioner and getting intimate with some 16 Handles.

SNATCHED: Like The Ceiling Can’t Hold Us

The last two weeks have been really, ridiculously difficult for me. I struggle with post-event let-down in my life a lot, methinks. Day after Christmas. Day after half-marathon. Two weeks post-Snatched has been no exception. 

For the last two weeks, I’ve sorta gone off the deep end. My MFF membership didn’t begin until July 1, which gave me a week off of working out (probably a good choice as I was having some hip issues). Also, I worked this crazy food expo at the Javits Center for three days (where I could literally eat ALL of the chocolate and cheese from every corner of the globe. ALL OF IT.) Anyway, suffice it to say that I’ve been feeling like a fattyfattynofriends and having a lot of food guilt. Just as I was about to order myself a pizza and settle into a evening of feeling sorry for myself, my OFFICIAL SNATCHED BEFORE AND AFTER PICTURES arrived via email. 

I was scared to open them. What if they were disappointing? 

You guys. I opened them and my mood immediately changed. I didn’t order a pizza or eat all of the food in my entire apartment or go for my SECOND fro-yo of the day. [Though, to be honest, fro-yo is necessary during this weather. It’s not really a question of health and hotness, just survival.] I was re-inspired by all of my hard work. 

This journey has been an amazing one. I can’t wait to see where I am a year from now. I am so happy to have a new family of crazy, wonderful, loving, inappropriate, ridiculous human beings. 

Anyway, I leave you with my final round of measurements, my official Snatched testimonial, and the anxiously anticipated BEFORE AND AFTER PICTURES! [Also: WHAT was I thinking when I picked my outfit on the first day?! White sports bra!? Shiny blue shorts!? UGH!]

——–

I started Snatched with two goals: to be on Broadway and to be the most fuckable person in New York City. I mean, that’s not asking too much, right? I could just imagine it:

As I exit the Clubhouse after my final Snatched class, I see a line of potential suitors trailing up Ninth Avenue. Some are offering me roses. Others are shirtless [thankyousomuch]. Maybe one or two are strumming their guitars, humming the song they wrote for me. But I can’t be bothered with any of them because Bernie Telsey is TOTALLY blowing up my phone!

[Insert record scratch]

In reality, my Snatched journey was so much more than I ever could have dreamed. While I DO believe that I am firmly on the Broadway/fuckability path, I’ve had the opportunity to confront the question of WHY I don’t **already** feel worthy of these things. The out-pouring of love, encouragement, and triumph from everyone on the MFF team is beyond comparison. Everyday, I was inundated with the message that my goals and dreams are worthy and noble, and I am deserving of attaining them (and more!).

The idea of self-love permeates every moment of Snatched: we choose to attend class because we love ourselves enough to make it a priority; we choose to make healthy food choices because they serve our overall health and hotness goals; we choose to be kind to ourselves because that’s how we get better. When we stumble, there are countless hands to help pick us up. Every time I sent Mark an email that I judged as completely, totally, and utterly neurotic and ridiculous, he responded with compassion, wisdom, and tenderness.

Now that Snatched is over, I know my journey has only just begun. I can’t believe the remarkable changes I’ve experienced in six short weeks [even BEYOND the expected physical improvements]. Instead of dreading the torture of a lonesome hour-long treadmill workout, I can’t wait to go to class. The feeling of accomplishment after PR-ing on my deadlift is invigorating. My relationship with food has been flipped on its head. I cook! I wash my dishes! I drink insane amounts of water!  I can stick to a budget because I’m not hemorrhaging all my dollars on delivery.com!

If you are thinking about giving Snatched a try, I implore you: DO IT! You absolutely will not regret it. Your life can only get better when you choose to spend six weeks making yourself, your dreams, and your future your number one priority.

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