Of people surveyed (and as always, I grill friends, casual drinking companions, randoms within close bar proximity, former hook ups and your mailman), their reasonings behind the Instagram-add fell into two camps: those who did it for the followers, and those who did it for transparency.
The crew who told me they did it for the followers said they noticed a modest jump.
Later, after partaking in significantly less conversations than I had on Tinder or its competitors, I was told that “no one really used Raya to date, but to get more Instagram followers.” In this context, where everyone’s profile was packed with a series of professional headshots, it made sense.
Here are four types of guys who will totally ghost you in your 20s: You meet this guy on Tinder. at a dive bar where everyone else is an estranged Grandpa, leather-clad biker, or some combination of both.
Positive thought: There are plenty of human beings with manners who would never ghost, and opt to send a "no thank you to dating anymore" text instead.
There are more still who would meet in person to — gasp — end things like adults.
Though their intent was not to be famous or even recognized, they seemed to embrace the “discovery” aspect of the picture-heavy social-media platform. Those in this category felt that their Instagrams offered a better overall picture of who they were than that of their dating profiles. “What I look like, who my friends are, what my interests are, my politics.
It also lets everyone know that I’m weird.” This group — many of them seasoned dating-app users who were fatigued by the small talk and vetting process — had a take-it-or-leave-it attitude when it came to their true selves.
None seemed weirded out that listing their handles meant any random, terrifying human who came across their dating profiles, not just matches, could view their Instagrams.