Dating apps are meant for our generation. Each one tends to our need for a connection through the glass wall that is our smart phone. Like the rest of social media, it’s creepy if you take some time to really think about it. 

Let the idea of window shopping for human beings sink in. Now with that in mind, each encounter turns into the experience of buying one of those mall puppies.

“That one’s cute,” you say as you look at it through your own finger smudges, but you get it into your lease and it throws up due to undisclosed carsickness. 

Probably should’ve gone with the leather interior, Chris. Instead, you chose cloth and dating apps like Tinder. 

It’s new to me, and it’s one helluva time-devourer to be honest. It’s also a great place to exercise my “judge a book by its cover” muscles. 

Though I do appreciate a good workout, there are many problems with Tinder. 

The first is that it blatantly lies to my face. Let me explain. Say that I’m shown a girl who’s eight miles away, I “like” her profile (because she’s cute) and get thrown into a chat room almost immediately so I can textually win her over. 

Great, right? No. Within half of a second, that girl somehow goes from eight to 98 miles away. 

Tinder also has an ability to make me hopeful and then shut that happiness down. Imagine someone giving you a cake you said you liked, and right as you’re about to cut off a piece, the cake stops talking to you, jumps off the counter and falls into a pit of acid. 

Since girls don’t start conversations, I send out the perfect pick up line. It is 100 percent guaranteed to make people laugh. I’m then seen as witty, smart, funny, the cat’s pajamas and the bee’s knees. But once the lols subside, the girl disappears.  

The “buzz” from that match evaporates into nothingness, and (in 30 seconds) my relationship with Tinder transforms from that of a wingman to that of a dementor. 

I sigh, look at the girl’s profile one more time as if we met face-to-face, check Facebook and then swipe through countless profiles of other single girls in my area. 

If my iPhone didn’t already have my soul, it would be in Tinder’s possession. While, I’m just getting more and more sick of it. But hey, who doesn’t want free ice cream? I don’t expect to meet “the one” on Tinder. Frankly, I don’t think anyone does. If they do, they should check out OkCupid or another app focused on “love.”

Tinder should just do its job, that’s all that I want. Sure, it’s good short-term, but expecting someone to talk to you for more than an hour is more absurd than the idea of Batfleck being a good Batman. 

So stop playing with me and hook me up, Tinder. I’m going to give you a week, and then I’m just going to cheat and bring a puppy to campus.