I should mention I work in technology.
Some apps positively impact my world. I no longer get lost every time I leave my driveway thanks to Google Maps. I don’t need to wait in line at my favorite new restaurant because I made reservations through OpenTable. But there are times I long for the feel of a mixtape in my hand instead of clicking the Pandora icon. I used to go out for a run and assume I was Flo-Jo. Now, the Map My Run lady whispers in my ear that it took me 11 minutes to run a mile. She’s judging me; I can hear it in her voice. I would also like to atssume my dinner of Brie, Nutella and chardonnay only had 300 calories. MyFitnessPal tells me otherwise. Some pal you are.
I inquired with a few friends about apps they can’t quit. One friend immediately wanted to know if his porn app counted. Gone are the days when teenage boys wandered gas stations and bought an acceptable amount of candy and Chap Stick to sidetrack the checkout lady while they shoplifted Playboy. Back in the olden days, you bought a magazine or hurriedly chose porn from the back room of a Blockbuster. Now you go online and select various genres, including gangbang, creampie and facials (though I assume this is not the facial I receive at my salon).
I do love social media apps like Facebook and Instagram. They allow me to be a socially acceptable stalker. Previously I would just peer in people’s windows at night, which always made them uncomfortable.
Last week, I saw a Facebook friend of mine in real life. I was at Target and hadn’t seen her in years. Naturally I hightailed it in the opposite direction, hiding in the feminine products aisle until the coast was clear. I later logged in to Facebook and liked all of her vacation pictures to rid myself of the guilt.
Tinder is a tricky one. It astounds me that singles today can select someone in their general proximity to talk (have sex) with. It is the electronic black book for lazy people: “Not only would I like to have sex with a stranger of my choosing, I won’t travel more than three miles out of my way to do so.” GPS locates you and presents a plethora of equally languid people in your area. Because of the relative anonymity technology provides, all of my single girlfriends have received penis pictures from Tinder. One rather prominent friend in the legal field joked, “Have you any idea the amount of cocks that pop up on my phone during meetings?”
Gentlemen, if a woman wanted details about your penis pre-sexy-time, they would stalk one of your ex-lovers on social media and ask her.
My husband and I also rely on Yelp a great deal to help us decide where to eat. We excitedly log in and are presented with nearby options including American, Thai and Chinese. We can see pictures, detailed ambience descriptions and ratings from other consumers. Or, as we like to call it, Tinder for foodies.
I realize technology is here to stay, and it will become easier for my children to procure everything from pizza to a spouse with the touch of a button. I pray that by the time they are grown, apps like Tinder will be as uncool as my daughter thinks I am now.
This piece was originally published on BLUNTmoms.