After a series of unfortunate events, I’ve somehow found myself back in the cesspool of online dating. I’ve gone from Friday night sushi dinners with a guy who pretended to love me, to swiping through an electronic pool of men I have absolutely zero interest in meeting. But here I am, swiping away in hopes of discovering my next distraction. While I’ve yet to become successful, I’ve definitely become much more qualified for a national thumb wrestling competition. Four weeks of repeated thumb strengthening exercises in the form of left swipe rejections on every Bumble Bro, is sure to land me a first place gold medal.

So, that brings me to Bumble. Why Bumble? Bumble is a dating app that’s been marketed as the “Feminist Tinder”. Feminist in the sense that women are prompt to make the first move, which relieves some pressure off the men, and allows women a sense of control and power they don’t often have in the dating world. Apparently, the Bumble executives believe that the dating culture today still lies in women taking the back seat to a male dominated courtship. I’d love to know what country or state this 1950’s dating culture still exists in…because it sure as fuck isn’t California.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve been courted by a man, let alone felt as if the man in my presence even values my time or existence. My life as a single woman consists of drunk men in bars slurring over their words asking to buy me a 1.5 ounce of poison he’s praying will result in a one-night stand, or, I’ve had to pursue men myself in my normal day to day environment. Every single one of my gorgeous, successful, and yet somehow single girlfriends…agrees.

Yet here we are, once again, catering to a generation of men who can’t be bothered with the “pressures” of life, such as pursuing a woman they are interested in, and somehow coming up with the idea that women taking the reins of courtship through an electronic device is now an act of feminism. I mean, I suppose you’ve got to throw us a bone every once in a while, right?

At some point in my life’s existence, I’d love to see my generation of men actually grow those pair of balls they so freely flash via text at their virtual female matches and be the fucking male adults they’re suppose to be. But, because there’s a better chance of me witnessing prehistoric dinosaurs resurrecting from 65 million years of extinction, I’m going to continue swiping away and rejecting all these men who feel entitled to take the back seat in dating, in courtship, in maturity, and in life. You can’t lift a finger in the real world…why the hell would you lift a finger in the virtual world?

On that note, I bring you a comical insight at the millennial men on Bumble who just CANNOT deal with the pressure of making the first move on a woman…on the internet…while they hide behind their cellphone screens.