And Then I Matched With Deep Dish Pizza on Tinder

While getting my first tattoo, I audibly told the tattoo artist that I felt like Harry Potter in that scene where Dolores Umbridge makes Harry carve “I must not tell lies” into his own hand in detention.

My friend Mary while seated next to me for emotional support

For unidentified reasons, the nice man overlooked this incredibly nerdy and situationally inappropriate statement, and I luckily turned out with this sucker:


In case you were wondering (I know, I know), “fuoco nelle vene” is an Italian phrase that translates to “fire in the veins.” I had it done in my mom’s handwriting in honor of what I consider to be her greatest legacy—living a life directed by awesome, unbridled passion. If anyone out there was still doubting how incredibly Type A I am, here’s a photo of me with the same tattoo rendered in Sharpie from my freshman year of college:


Regretting not going for “FBGM”now, but hey, what can you do?

That’s right. I planned this tattoo out for four whole years. Upon describing it to my brother, he responded with heartwarming appreciation.


Alright then.

It’s been a couple weeks since said tatt-ing (is that a thing?) and with school back in session at Mizzou, I am finally beginning to understand that I’m a Real Adult now. Notable differences of Real Adult life include more expensive happy hours and a much larger selection of brunch spots.

Dating in the Real World, however, is much the same as it was in college. If I were going to give the chapter a name (and I obviously am), I would name it Skeptical Katie is Skeptical. This applies in some degree to my attitude towards the male population as a whole, but mostly to Tinder, Online Dating Mecca Of Our Generation. This probably does not surprise you, as calling Tinder a “dating” app is realistically a massive euphemism, but I digress. Matching with people is fun, ok?

Just kidding.

The most interesting observation I’ve made growing up in a tech-saturated generation is how easy it is for all of us to say absolutely anything from behind the protection of our cell phones and computer screens. You see this frequently in many places online (Hello, Erodr), but nowhere do you truly see it quite like you do in the messages you get on Tinder.


A much more acceptable first Tinder message I received went along with my bio, which proudly proclaims my love for Game of Thrones (obviously). All this particular gentleman said to me was “Hodor.” He technically never said anything but “Hodor” at any point in time, but he wins at the internet nonetheless.

Naturally, Christen, Mary, and I recently put together a list of what will automatically result in a swipe left for a dude. Take heed, Tinder Bros of America, and avoid these things:

  • A selfie taken in your bathroom mirror
  • A picture with a woman we can only assume is your girlfriend (Why are you on Tinder, Tinder Bro?)
  • A selfie of you at the gym
  • A selfie of you flexing
  • A selfie of you flexing at the gym
  • Do you see how we feel about selfies?
  • A message that says “hey” with a winky face (This is the virtual equivalent of having your ass grabbed by a stranger.)
  • A photo of you and 4,590 other people (This requires so much swiping)
  • A photo of you that does not include your face at all (C’mon guys, we’ve seen Catfish)
  • A picture of your sports car
  • A picture of you posing with your sports car
  • Anything taken while crushing Natty Light in PCB or alongside numerous bikini-clad women (Why are you on Tinder, Tinder Bro?!)
  • #TeamFitLife
  • Listing your height in your bio (I’m sorry, sir, you didn’t have to actually do anything to fulfill your DNA)
  • Jorts
  • Excessive hair gel
  • Mug shots (I so wish I didn’t have to type that)
  • Interrogations:


Swipes right, on the other hand, are really quite easy to procure if you have a few key components:

  • Pictures with puppies
  • Pictures of you doing something even marginally athletic
  • Pictures of you doing something even marginally musical
  • A picture of you doing something really exciting, like backpacking through Europe or attempting a two-story beer bong (What?)
  • A photo of you hangin’ with children (D’awwww)
  • This:deepdish

I briefly tried to imagine what that list would look like had a guy written it about girls and promptly realized it would contain all of three bullet points.

I should note that while Tinder is generally a Bro Battlefield, I cannot totally bash the app—I have met a few pretty nice guys. I cannot say the same thing for OkCupid, on which I spent all of three days before promptly throwing in the towel.


Besides discussing online dating and meandering through central Lakeview’s bar and bagel scene, the three of us also spent a portion of our weekend at a cat’s first birthday party.


While I imagine this was really just an excuse to drink at the pool, Piper is quite a wonderful cat, and Ashley and Alex are wonderful cat parents. I hope to one day be able throw an equally awesome party for my human children.

rooftop pool

I also signed up for my first fantasy football draft with the Whittl team this weekend. I wanted to call my team “Cleats and Cleavage” (thanks, Julie), but as I possess neither of those things, I went with The Roach Roster. This is inevitably going to be both terrifying (for me) and hilarious (for everyone else), but I will keep you updated on what I imagine will be crushing failure and many, many beers.

Until next time.

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