Hinge

I’d been joking for some time that my Berkeley goggles were in the mail, but the truth of the matter was that after four months of school, I still hadn’t acclimated to the general populous who gravitated towards the Holy Trifecta of Hinge, Bumble and Tinder in Alameda County.

These apps are the dining-hall-egg-flavored vape cartridge of the masses, but this also happens to be what makes them fun.

So, growing up with hearing only horror stories — and now hearing only the fairy tales — begs the question in my mind: Are dating apps really that bad? 

When a woman wants to have casual sex, do we need a term for it? Are phrases like “hoe phase” or “hot girl summer” attempts to justify our sex lives?

Today, we have a tendency to avoid the scary in-person moment — when your heart skips a beat and your hands tremble while you approach that gleaming smile across the room.