The Hinge Experiment: Behold, My Magnificent Collection of Absolutely Nothing
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the current state of The Hinge Experiment™.
Please try to contain your excitement.
As of this post, this is what my Hinge match queue looks like:
“No matches right now.”
That's it.
That's the update.
Thank you for coming.
Look at All That Room!
I mean, seriously.
Look at this magnificent screen.
Clean.
Uncluttered.
Organized.
Not a single pesky match taking up valuable digital real estate.
Marie Kondo would be proud.
After unmatching Kelli, Missing Me, and most recently Gina, I have achieved something few people have the courage to accomplish on a dating app:
Inbox Zero.
Except it's not email.
It's women.
Okay, that sounded significantly worse than I intended.
Moving on.
Hinge Has Some Suggestions
What I particularly enjoy is that Hinge doesn't simply tell me:
“No matches right now.”
It immediately follows that with what feels suspiciously like:
“Would you like to give us some money for that?”
There's a giant:
BOOST YOUR PROFILE
button.
And underneath that:
UPGRADE TO HINGEX
Ohhhhh.
I see how this works.
Hinge is basically standing next to my completely empty dating queue whispering:
"That's a shame. You know... perhaps your credit card could help."
Nice self-esteem you have there.
Be a shame if something happened to it.
But I'm Not Panicking
Here's the thing.
I'm actually okay with this.
Would I like to have a match?
Sure.
Would I like to be talking with someone?
Absolutely.
Would I like to meet someone, go out, laugh, have dinner, see a movie, take a drive somewhere, and eventually have someone special in my life?
Yes.
But as I wrote recently:
I'm not desperate.
There's a difference between wanting companionship and needing to manufacture it.
I'm not keeping conversations open simply so I can look at my Hinge account and say:
“See! Three women!”
If nobody is communicating, what's the point?
Kelli had her opportunity.
Missing Me almost became Meeting Me.
Gina had her opportunity.
Those conversations went nowhere.
So I cleaned house.
And now...
BEHOLD THE HOUSE.
It's extremely clean.
Possibly condemned.
But definitely clean.
“Matches Are More Intentional on Hinge”
The screen also informs me:
“Matches are more intentional on Hinge.”
Well, they are certainly being VERY intentional about not matching with me.
I respect the commitment.
There's no ambiguity here.
No mixed signals.
No “Good morning” followed by 72 hours of silence.
Just a giant empty screen saying:
NOPE.
In a strange way, it's refreshing.
So What Happens Now?
Nothing changes.
I'm still on Hinge.
I'll continue looking.
I'll continue sending likes when someone seems interesting.
Maybe tomorrow I'll get a match.
Maybe next week.
Maybe someone will eventually appear who actually wants to have a conversation.
And maybe—this is where we're getting wildly optimistic—we'll use this dating app to arrange an actual date.
Imagine the possibilities.
Until then, I'm not paying someone to pretend the empty queue isn't empty.
I'm certainly not going to become discouraged because an algorithm hasn't delivered my forever-after on schedule.
I've got plenty of other things happening in my life.
Dating would be an addition.
Not the definition of it.
Current Official Hinge Standings
Kelli: Unmatched.
Missing Me: Unmatched.
Gina: Unmatched.
Current conversations: 0.
Current matches: 0.
Upcoming dates: 0.
Hinge suggesting I spend money: Naturally.
Steve the Iguana's confidence level: Becoming absolutely unbearable. 🦎
I'm starting to picture him sitting next to me, looking at this screen with that smug reptile face.
"Told you, dude. Get me a leash and let's hit the beach."
Not yet, Steve.
Not yet.
The Hinge Experiment continues.
And for anyone interested in joining the cast...
Apparently, there are openings.
