worst tinder bio sydney

I Did It: I Found The Worst Tinder Bio In All Of Sydney

It was a Monday evening, approximately 6:45pm when it happened.

I was waiting for someone from Facebook Marketplace to come pick up a mattress I was selling and I was really hungry. Like, stomach rumbling hungry. But I didn’t want to eat dinner yet, just in case the FB Marketplace person rocked up just as my fork was mid-way to my mouth. See my dilemma? So as a distraction I opened Tinder.

I swiped through half-heartedly, as one tends to do in the years of the 2020s, knowing you probably won’t meet up with anyone you match with – it’s hard to say if it’s because of Covid-19 or your complete lack of desire to try anymore, but let’s just blame the pandemic for now. It’s easier.

“Nope, nope, nope,” I said as I swiped left, refusing to match with anyone who only has their height in their bio. “God, no,” I said as I stumbled across a bio that stated, “If you just wanna murder me instead of dating, I’m okay with that.” As if I had the time or the energy for that. Seems messy, too.

Finally, I switched over to look at Tinder Gold. I had been trialling it for the last month or so, and I still liked to swipe ~organically~  instead of just always looking at who has liked me first. It’s like when you’re lining up at Macca’s and you can’t tell if you want sweet, or savoury, or both. Am I hungry enough for a nugget meal AND the new Nutella hotcakes? Or is that taking on more than I can handle? Somehow using Tinder Gold is like this.

It was on Gold that I saw him. He was the first one in my feed, so I clicked on his profile.

It was a man in his 30s: Let’s call him A.

Luckily for me, I was already slumped on my lounge in a way that would give my physio a heart attack, because if I had been standing I may have dropped to my knees, wailing as if I’d just rewatched the 2001 NRL Grand Final between Newcastle Knights and Parramatta Eels. Because A’s bio left me feeling a type of way.

Finally, after three years of using dating apps, I did it. I found one of the worst Tinder bios in Sydney:

It’s not necessarily an achievement I think my parents or any of my former high school teachers would’ve expected from me, but for one, small, second of my life there, I had achieved an accomplishment like no other.

I had found something worse than the pineapple on pizza debate or the overuse of the word banter. I had even found something worse than the weirdly common bio of “I like my women like I like my coffee… without another man’s dick in it”.

Firstly, I thought A’s bio was starting out like some sort of bad ’90s pop song. “Yes I am not single, I will confess!” I sang under my breath, vaguely to the tune of some ‘Baby One More Time’ by Britney Spears. It didn’t really work that well, to be perfectly honest.

worst tinder bio

It was hard to figure out my favourite part of this bio: was it the part about A reassuring his matches they won’t be lied to, even though he’s lying to his whole family?

Was it the part where he said he is thinking about his kids instead of himself… which makes zero sense as to why he’s on Tinder, trying to find a side piece?

Was it the consistent use of ‘brake’, while also managing to get one properly spelt “break her heart” line in?

Or was it the fact, that this man, too gutless to break up with his partner, still had what looked to be real, actual photos of himself? (I guess that’s one way to get your girlfriend to ‘brake’ up with you.)

To all the Tinder men I’ve bagged out before:

For all those times I’ve made fun of fish photos (every second day of my life), bagged someone out for listing their height (please refer to the start of this article), or rolled my eyes at the pineapple on pizza debate – I sincerely apologise. I used to think that stuff was bad, if not mind-numbingly boring, but I didn’t know A before that.

I didn’t understand the extent that one man, in his 30s, would go to, just to catch a brake. I had never before been offered a ‘hell of an experience in the bedroom without a brake’ (sounds tiring!). While I have definitely met guys who would do many, many things in order for their partners to break up with them (Little Mix’s ‘Shoutout To My Ex’ starts blaring randomly in the background), never have I seen it happen right before my eyes on a Tinder bio, where the person happily admits there are children involved.

I was more gobsmacked than the time I tried to match with Shrek and he ghosted me after I said hi.

A, if you’re reading this:

A, if you’re reading this, I have one final message for you.

If anyone needs me again, I’ll just be at home, staring out the window, thinking of all the life choices that led me to this moment.

Stay safe out there, fellow Tinder users.