It felt very testosterone-heavy, which I took as a good sign. Eventually, I was drunk enough to just grab someone by the arm and pull him toward me (surprisingly effective).
He was a 30ish guy in a suit and thick-rimmed glasses, who reminded me of a young Elliott Gould.
For Tinder dates I dress up, I meet the guy for a drink at like p.m., and then we have a real, uninterrupted conversation. Whereas if you meet someone out at a bar or a party, you’re with a group of people, it’s loud, and you’re probably drunk.
I would argue that you have no clue who you’re talking to if they’re wearing a suit.
The evening ended with me literally sprinting away from V-neck, almost being hit by a cab in the process.
Still, I ordered myself a martini and started smiling at random hot people.
The responses were not what I had hoped—I’m pretty sure that everyone thought I was creepily desperate or a prostitute.
I told him about Kaitlin’s reason for avoiding apps—that she wants men to be vetted. “She essentially wants insurance, which is something some people feel that online dating doesn’t provide.
For instance, if some guy acts like a creeper on a date, she wants to be able to cash that in within her social scene, and to make him feel the consequences of that behavior.
For instance, this Danish poet I’ve been fucking—he’s so interesting and smart, he’s 6-foot-4, but he has these sideburns . “The general attitude used to be, ‘Online dating is for weirdos and losers,’ and now it’s, ‘Eww, who would try to hook up in a bar?
—that’s for weirdos and losers.’ Today, you go to a bar to chat with your friends, not to hook up.” Which, in turn, clearly has made the latter a harder thing to do in recent years.
Hogan told me, “By using dating apps, you can be very sexually active without most of your personal network knowing anything.