“So here’s what I’m thinking. You, me, two Four Lokos, Exploratorium After Dark???”
That was my Tinder bio for most of the past month. If you’re confused, don’t worry — I am, too.
There is little I hate more than Tinder bios. You want to be funny in them, but if you put only a joke in your bio, you’re not giving the other person very much to start a conversation. And if you just put your interests and hobbies, it’s boring.
So because of my inability be satisfied by my bios, I default to two modes of Tinder usage. Either I don’t use Tinder at all, or I switch up my bio all the time. Over winter break, I tried to think of a new one, and I have no idea why I thought it would be funny to put out my very real TikTok problem on Tinder — you know that one TikTok that goes like:
“So here’s what I’m thinking. You, me, two Four Lokos. Chuck E. Cheese. Skee-Ball. Uh oh, a couple of 8-year-olds are mouthing off. Should we fight them? You betcha. A couple roundhouse kicks later, we got all their tickets. Grand Prize? AB-SO-LUTELY. Then, picnic. On the train tracks. ON THE TRAIN TRACKS. Two more Four Lokos. That’s four Four Lokos. That’s LOCO! Locomotive? Here comes the train! Doesn’t matter, we’re done eating. Chase that shit, FOR MILES. Train’s too fast, can’t catch it. That’s okay. We’ll sit by the highway and throw marbles at passing cars. What do you think?”
Yeah, neither did any of the people I matched with. I already knew that TikTok is one of those apps that aren’t really made for people like me — only technically Gen Z. But, I was surprised by how genuinely people took the bio. As far as first dates go, there are weirder ways to spend them than consuming two Four Lokos at the Exploratorium — having that in your bio means you really want to do it. Had I known that people would respond so normally to weird, first-date idea bios, I would have tried it out earlier, and without the obscure Four Loko TikTok reference.
So, in the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, I figured I may as well leverage this new realization and see just how far I can take it.
Here was the methodology. Each day, I changed my bio to a first-date idea slightly stranger than the one before. (Strangeness is definitely subjective, so I’ll disclose the bios I wrote, because I, too, am unconvinced that they ramp up linearly.) I swiped right on the first 50 people that appear on my Tinder, and then waited 24 hours before counting how many people messaged me and referred to my bio.
Before we get into the data analysis section of this article, I need to admit that I had some help. I’m not that creative of a person when it comes to date ideas, and it was genuinely a struggle to come up with date ideas that were weird but not weird enough that people would think they were jokes. I Googled “Valentine’s date ideas,” and consulted the first website Google suggested: lifehack.org. This list had some strange date ideas, although they definitely leaned toward date ideas for those in committed relationships, rather than first-date ideas. But, considering the state of Stanford’s hookup culture, maybe that just makes them even stranger.
Day 1: “So here’s what I’m thinking. You, me, rom-com marathon & pizza-my-heart.”
Intended to be the most normal one, this one was inspired by number one on lifehack.org’s “40 Amazing Date Ideas for Valentine’s Day.” In some ways, the bio feels very Netflix and chill, but also simultaneously anti-Netflix and -chill.
Of the 50 people I swiped right on, six responses referred to the date idea. This first one made me really consider adding the fact that I’m from New York to my bio:
Day 2: “So here’s what I’m thinking. You, me, canned wine & paintball.”
This one was inspired by number 39 on the list, and received five responses referencing the date idea. Here’s one of them:
I bet they wished they matched with me a day earlier.
Day 3: “So here’s what I’m thinking. You, me, glow-in-the-dark body paint & white claws.”
This date idea, inspired by number 13, was apparently a smash hit. We got a whopping 12 messages referring to the idea.
One person was curious about the quantity of white claws involved:
Another was curious about the ABV of the white claws involved:
Yet another was curious about what was going to happen after the white claws (and also probably wished they’d matched with me on the first day):
And this one, who had matched with me over a month earlier, messaged “Dtf?” and then tried to pretend as if that never happened. Maybe that person was writing an article testing an alternative hypothesis — rejecting the null hypothesis that, no, this isn’t something you can recover from, and proving that, yes, you can actually recover from a “Dtf?” message.
Day 4: “So here’s what I’m thinking. You, me, two angry orchards & an Uber Copter tour of the city.”
Yes, as Twitter discovered two months ago, Uber has helicopters now. Inspired by number 24, I thought this one was easily the weirdest idea yet, and maybe that explains the mere three messages received in response to it. One of them was just a laugh-react because, apparently, Tinder reacts now, too? Here’s the first of the other two:
It’s not entirely clear what a sad mango is, and what differentiates a sad mango from an average, more content one. Maybe it’s another obscure TikTok reference that I’m expected to understand because I dealt one first.
This one brings up a valid point: it appears that Uber Copters don’t service San Francisco just yet.
Day 5: “So here’s what I’m thinking. You, me, a hot air balloon ride & let’s saber the champagne.”
Definitely the weirdest one by far, both to execute and to comprehend, it was inspired by number 20. I know what sabering champagne is only because I was among the last cohort to take wine-tasting fall quarter. Although it should come as a surprise to no one, this one received just two responses. This one:
And this one, which is appropriately concerned for our safety (I, too, do not know how to saber a bottle of champagne):
We end up seeing something that resembles a normal distribution: people seem to like weird, first-date ideas, but not if they’re too weird.
If you matched with me and are sad that your message didn’t get included in this article, don’t be. It probably just means I actually like you. But don’t get too excited just yet — honorable mention goes to this one, who matched with me in 2017 (!), and finally decided to call me out on my shenanigans.
It’s Valentine’s Day — although, by the time I started this experiment, I’d already accepted my fate to spend this one exactly how I’ve spent the past 21: single. Maybe I will end up going on one of these dates.
For more odd bios and musings, contact Eleni Aneziris at elenia ‘at’ stanford.edu.