Following our new series of tinder archetypes, we bring you…International Student Seeking Connections! The author would like to remain anonymous because, well, you never know who might be reading…
You match immediately, because he already swiped right. Poor dude, he’s lonely. Tinder gives him hope. (These pitying thoughts come later–in the moment, you’re psyched because he’s wearing a scarf and sunglasses and standing in front of a cathedral in his pro pic).
His bio is worded slightly weirdly. It’s clear that English is his second language, and that’s a big turn-on. His profile says something like, “I call myself Rolf/Pierre/Kristoff/Antonio/Jin/Hans, a grad student from Berlin/Cannes/Buenos Aires/Seoul/Oslo. I am new to city, exciting to meet people and have great times, make connects, enjoy the cafés, bars, and New York fun. Enjoy skiing and cooking and techno/house/EDM.”
Some of his pictures show him skiing, or cooking, or at a rave; smartly dressed and often with other cute male friends. It looks like he has a strong crew back home.
He messages first, “Hey. Want to get dinner?”
You like his frankness. When you suggest a time, he makes fun of you for eating so early. “6:00? What time do you sleep? haha.” Little does he know you eat two dinners every night.
You compromise with 8.
When you meet he kisses you on the cheek. Again, it’s forward, but you like it. Seems romantic.
As you walk to the restaurant, he pulls out two cigarettes and lights them at the same time, handing one to you. He doesn’t ask whether or not you smoke, and you decide to break the promise you made earlier today to quit.
At Pisticci/Max Soha/Friedman’s/Community he buys appetizers, and orders the right kind of wine. The waitress doesn’t card (or if she does, he has a sneaky international ID that can fool anyone. But he’s also 24). You talk about school and the city and what you like to do. You talk about family a little bit. You feel like he doesn’t actually understand anything you’re saying.
He asks why you look sad and you say you’re worried about finals. There are more awkward pauses, even as the wine decreases your discomfort.
Finally, you decide the cultural divide is too great. The romance feels fake; if you get with him, you’ll miss eating two dinners every night; and his accent is fucking hard to understand. Plus, he wears a Canada Goose. Without him, you can actually fulfill your promise to quit smoking.
Alas. He kisses you again as you say goodbye after he pays for the meal, and you smile. You hope he’ll have better luck.
You see him a few days later crossing in front of Butler after John Jay brunch. He scowls. You pretend you don’t know him.
Another too-realistic Tinder man via Nikki Shaner-Bradford