I'm Yelling Tinder!!!

Tinder!!!! Where the hell is Pittbull when you need him?

I read this article about how the Olympian's are all using a dating app called Tinder. So, of course...I immediately thought, Well, Hell....if it's good enough for a highly tuned athlete in an international country, competing for the biggest prize of their lives, it's good enough for me!

Let me first say, that it's way too soon. I have no desire to date. But, I love a dating app like I love booze. Like I love a frosted donut. Like I love any joke that makes fun of a Kardashian. Have I mentioned yet how I think Bruce Jenner looks like Billie Jean King? No disrespect to Billie...but come on, Bruce is seriously channeling the 1970's.

But, of course...I digress. So, Tinder. There was like NO ONE under the age of 25. It was a plethora of guys, who I am pretty sure are IN HIGH SCHOOL!!!!! It may have been the backpack selfie in the bathroom that gave it away...but OMG. I may exaggerate slightly. I did run into Ron, who was 39 and wearing an Aeropostale t-shirt and a greasy comb-over. Or William who is 49, and in his bathroom selfie, is wearing a suit (no tie), but complete with hands in pockets, self assured pose...standing near his toilet. Wait, did you notice I used a big word back there...plethora. Thank you Master's Degreee!!! I'm pretty sure that as I was running through my list of "local" men...that I ran into at least one co-worker's son. Nauseous, is sort of how I am feeling. And slightly pervy. All I did was look, and they are just normal photos...I mean this isn't porn, but I feel yucky. They are too young. Or I'm too old. I don't know...but it's weird. I did not see any Olympian's, especially since it only picks people in your area, and clearly they are not hanging in Lebanon County, PA. And not just because we are in the middle of a Snowapocalypse.

I think my little experiment to look into Tinder scarred me for life. I may never date again. At least not by any app that people who have defined leg muscles, and clearly defined waists use. I'm just setting myself up for failure with that one.

Hey...if you like the blog, Pass it along to your peeps. Readership is currently 12, and I love all of you. Muffin basket in the mail. Promise, mean it. But, I would love to try to expand this thing. Call it my hobby, since I don't have a boyfriend anymore and my children think my love for showtunes is weird. Share it. I promise to make you laugh.