Presenting a mini Tinder time capsule, featuring a decade of ghosting, emojis, and urban legends. Plus: a glossary of dating indignities, a look back at the many Tinder spinoffs, and a taxonomy of Brooklyn Tinder types
Animation: Erik Carter One of the first instances of ghosting I can recall took place in the early 2010s. A friend had gone on a few great dates with a boy she met on Tinder, after which they exchanged a steady stream of communication. Soon, her messages were met with long silences, “yep,” or “lol.” We speculated on the reason: a lost phone, shadowy personal problems, perhaps even a hospitalization. We didn’t use the term ghosting; back then it wasn’t obvious to us that this was an ending.
On the Cover — Photo-Illustration: Pablo Rochat for New York Magazine. Photograph by Marcus McDonald ➼ My Tinder Decade➼ A Few Words From a Professional Profile-Pic Whisperer This neurosis seems to have something to do with the fact that communication has changed in the time of apps and digital feedback forms. Lots of minor, mundane conflict scenarios have been outsourced. You don’t complain to your taxi driver anymore; you leave a bad rating. We seem to be rusty at dealing with social friction because we mostly don’t have to anymore.
I thought back to instances of ghosting from my past. I was in the habit of doing it for a while, generally after a few nice but unexciting dates with a guy who would be, as my friends and I predicted, “somebody else’s husband.” Halwani’s “Hello, I’m no longer interested in this” solution might have seemed blunt, but it would have been a cleaner, quicker end.🐷 Pigging: To show interest in someone only to later reveal it was all a joke.
In 2016, according to internet legend, a group of high-school girls in North Carolina started using fruit emoji on Snapchat to secretly signal their relationship status. Pineapples, with their spiky crowns, rough skin, and sweet flesh, became shorthand for “It’s complicated,” which, once adopted by adults on the internet, could mean anything from a murky situationship to dissatisfaction with a fiancé. The fruit coquetry caught on, eventually making the jump to Tinder.
Upon each telling and retelling, certain details would evolve. Sometimes it’s a third date instead of a first. Sometimes the victim goes to the police, who say this guy’s a serial offender but there’s nothing they can do about it; once, they found him wearing the soiled underwear. Every time someone reshared the story, others would respond saying they too had heard it about someone they knew in Leicester, Cork, or Hoboken.
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