Men: How to Differentiate Yourself When Using a Dating App

Photo by Prostock-Studio on Adobe Stock

I invited him out for a drink at the last minute because when you’re a mom, that’s sort of how life works. He accepted, and at 9:30, we were seated at a bar amid a tray of oysters and Woodford Reserve.

That week I matched and chatted with five different men on a dating app, but he was the one I invited out that evening he wasn’t my third choice or my second, he was the only one I invited. If he had said no, I would’ve taken a hard pass on the other four and spent the evening in the company of myself (and a WWII memoir).

It’s easy for me to pinpoint why Jay was the man I invited for a date. At this point in my life, I have zero tolerance for bullshit, and I know what I like (and don’t). That makes wading through the mushroom cloud of Tinder matches relatively easy. Here’s how he scored my free time, and what women everywhere are looking for when they swipe right.

He didn’t talk about sex

This may seem counterintuitive because I literally write about fucking every day, and Tinder is a hookup app. But, I don’t want to chat about sex with some rando from a dating app. I don’t have sex with robots; I have sex with people I enjoy spending time with, people I’d hang out with even if I didn’t want to fuck them.

Of the five men I matched with during this particular week, Jay was the only one who didn’t mention sex. Some of the other men were a little bit subdued about their mention of what they might like to do to me, and some were just disgusting.

One man asked for a photo of me, and as is customary, I sent a G-rated picture. I’ll post some erotic photography on the Internet of myself without my face, but if you want me to send that shit to you directly, you have to earn it. This guy responded to the photo of me in a sweater and leggings with horrendous descriptors.

Apparently, me sending a fully clothed picture gives Internet creeps free reign to let me know exactly how they’d like to pull my hair, smack my ass, and beat my pussy up. No thanks. Next!

Another “gentleman” that I interacted with that week chatted back-and-forth and seemed pretty reasonable for about an hour. Then, our conversation about work and childcare became so arousing that he not only needed to take his dick out and start stroking it, he needed to tell me all about it and snap a photo.

Insert giant audible sigh. Why are men still sending unsolicited dick pics? Who do we need to talk to to make it stop? Is there a petition I can sign?

Back in the days when I used to meet people at an actual bar or social event, none of them whipped their junk out after an hour of conversation. Sure I got propositioned in public, but that was generally after several hours of talking and flirting and maybe even grinding on the dance floor to some 90’s R&B. I don’t understand why men think it’s OK to whip their junk out just because they’re hiding behind a screen.

Women, at least in my experience, are not like this. I have one friend that I enjoy some sexy time with, and occasionally she’ll send me a naughty picture or two. Still, I have literally licked her pussy, so I feel like her sending me a picture of it is in the realm of reasonability.

When I’m talking with a woman from a dating app, I never get pictures of her vulva. I think sending photos of your junk to unsuspecting strangers is a strictly male thing. (Yes, I know not all men are douchebags who send unsolicited dick pics, thankfully Hubby falls into this category). For all of you who have no problem keeping your fly zipped until we ask you to take it down, thank you.

He didn’t ask for photos

I have two profiles on Tinder. I use it when I’m scrolling for men and the other I use when I’m scrolling for women. Because I don’t care if people in the community know I’m bisexual, I put photos of my face on my profile for women. However, I leave them off the profile for men because, well, non-monogamy is still something we don’t talk about in society, and I have to hide it unless I want my children to hear about their mother the whore in the school hallways.

The winner of my invitation for a drink that week never asked me for additional photos — not even of my face. In fact, he accepted a date without knowing how I look at all. Sure, I had some pictures on my profile, but none would let him know who I am or what I look like if he’s meeting me at a bar.

When he texted that he was on his way to meet me, I did send a photo of my face because how else would Jay know who he was looking for? But he didn’t ask; he let me take the lead (which seems to be his style in person as well and that shit works. I was practically begging him for some action.)

The fact that he accepted a date with me without knowing what I look like let me know that he wasn’t in this for a quick hook up, he was interested in getting a drink with someone new who seems to be able to hold an interesting conversation. That’s a vibe that I can get down with.

I love people; I love meeting new people; I love getting together with people I’ve known for a long time. I love finding what makes them tick; I love asking questions to figure out where they come from and how their worldview came about. I don’t need someone to be super hot to have a great conversation with them.

I can have a good time with someone I’m not physically attracted to, we can talk we can laugh we can even debate politics, and we can both walk away from the date after having a pleasant evening, even though we didn’t fuck. Not demanding additional photos of me, let me know that this guy was on the same wavelength.

He listened

This might seem obvious, and I almost left it out, but so many men completely miss the mark. Listening is more than just staring at her mouth move when she says words, it’s being actively engaged and responding appropriately with questions, or comments. 

Listening during a cocktail is vital because it let’s a woman know that when you get her alone, you’ll still listen to what she has to say. When I can be sure that a man I’m spending time with will hear what I’m saying in bed, I can let go of my inhibitions. If I set a boundary, he’ll respect it. If I tell him I like my clit rubbed in circles or a figure eight, he’ll do that. He sees me as a person worth getting to know. That’s important even in a casual hook-up.

He never pressed

So, while I was on this date with Jay after the oysters and Woodford Reserve, we went for a walk. Aside from a hug, hello, Jay never invaded my personal space.

Men, listen up, this is important, you can invade a woman’s personal space on a date if and only if she invades yours first. Doesn’t seem fair? What about gender equality? When was the last time you put pepper spray in your bag on your way to a date because you were afraid of being raped? Never? Good…I made my point.

After our walk, I invited Jay back to my place. It had been a long time since I’d done the sexy time thing, and I was ovulating, making me a little bit of an animal. Jay checked all the boxes. Jay was attractive; he was funny; he was intelligent, and he wasn’t an asshole. If more men behave as he did, everyone would be having more sex.

Even in the privacy of my place, sitting on the couch, Jay never crossed the line. He didn’t touch my arm until I reached for his. Because I believe in giving credit where credit is due, I thanked Jay for being so centered and cool throughout the date. I let him know I appreciated that he hadn’t invaded my personal space yet. Then, he asked if I wanted him to…

Hell fucking yes, I did.

Even when we were kissing, Jay let me be the one to move things along. He stuck with kissing me and keeping his hands around my arms and neck until I shifted and straddled his lap, moving his hands down to cup my ass. (I am a sucker for a good butt massage).

Jay and other decent humans understand that when it comes to sex, the person receiving penetration needs to set the pace. Throughout the rest of the evening, Jay checked in, making sure I was OK; he asked before he moved things from kissing to fingering me and asked again before he started fucking me.

Men who don’t push are better in bed

Any woman who has experience on a dating app can tell you the men who don’t discuss sex upfront, push for sex to early, ask for dirty photos, and generally behave like heathens are usually better in bed.

Men who spend a lot of time talking about sex generally don’t have the skills to back up what they say. They are cave-dwelling (or basement-dwelling) imbeciles who are only interested in their orgasm and not mine — that is unacceptable. This lack of sexual skill is probably the biggest reason I avoid men who are too forward right off the bat.

I don’t have a ton of time to sleep around. Work, childcare, cleaning my house, and cooking, and cooking, and cooking take up most of my time. (I have a lot of kids, and you have to feed them like three or four times a day, every day. It’s a lot of cooking). If I’m spending my few precious fucking around minutes on someone, I want to make sure it is worth it.

Jay certainly fits that description. Talking with him at the bar was an absolute delight. He works in manufacturing and has a thing for writing and reciting poetry; he’s a pescatarian, and his decision to live that lifestyle was fascinating.

If he had signed off after drinking and some conversation and headed home, I would consider the evening a success and totally worth my time. I love meeting interesting people.

The fact that he is fantastic in bed makes me giddy and increases the chance that I’ll call him next time I have a free night. The lesson here? Don’t tell me how good you are in bed, be patient, treat me like a human being, and let me ask you to fuck me (please?).

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