Then I caught him looking down my 12-year-old daughter's shirt. Recently found out he is awaiting a hearing for a sexual attack on a child under 12.
I dodged a bullet and will never trust dating online again. We began messaging, and he seemed like a nice person, so we exchanged numbers.
But here’s the point: Just as Facebook (which has made it easier for everyone to keep in touch and now, apparently, “bang“) bred its own unique brand of narcissistic etiquette. Because we think we can do that someone hotter, smarter, and funnier awaits us in tomorrow’s Ok Cupid email filled with matches, or literally around the corner thanks to apps like Tinder that surface nearby prospects. And as that twenty-something entrepreneur reminded me over coffee, services like Ok Cupid, and even Facebook, sap a lot of the mystique out of those first few dates.
Online and mobile services have given rise to a pick-and-choose shopping behavior that prioritizes looks more than ever before. And because of that, we’re more likely to shop around and make snap judgments about the people we’re dating. So, sure, it may be easier than ever to score a date, but what kind of date will it really be?
He seemed pretty normal (good job, intelligent, funny).
Sign into the gay mobile app Grindr, and half the photos of guys closest to you may be shots of anonymous torsos. But the best part of the night was right before I went to bed (he was staying on the couch): He asked me if I should change my pad.