Edgar, 21

I was in Germany and thought it’d be fun to go on a date with a local. I was chatting to someone on Tinder and had Monday free – why not? He seemed keen but said he couldn’t make it, he had to be with his family. Not impressed, I kept trying to persuade him: “Abandon your family, I’ll be loads more fun, show me round Munich.” He said he wanted to but couldn’t. I kept saying “Forget about them!”, but eventually he stopped replying. It was only as I was about to get on the plane home that I got this text: “Sorry, I’d have loved to, but I’ve got to stay by my grandma’s side before she passes.”

Frannie, 22

Last Michaelmas I matched with a guy on Tinder and, this being Cambridge, we spoke only in haikus. The poetry flowed and I was asked on a coffee date, but Tinder dates freak me out (no matter how desperate this chica gets) so I chickened out and never replied. That very evening I ventured to the Tab squash. Mr Haiku was standing there, looking very similar to his profile. Except he was five foot nothing. I am 5’10”. After 20 minutes he sidled over, met my gaze and uttered “nice haikus” under his breath. Words failed me and I ran from the room. I was desperate to write for The Tab, but the experience was too much. Now I write for Varsity.

Ramsey, 22

I liked a guy from Tinder: attractive, similar interests, all was going well. On our second date we went for a meal, then back to mine. After we’d had some fun, he fell asleep quickly. Oh. That would have been fine, except he kept whispering “I love you” in his dream. No, not to me. Did I forget to mention? He’d been in love with another guy for four years. I waited half an hour for the mutterings of sweet nothings to end. They didn’t. Eventually I drifted off to sleep with the guy I liked unconsciously declaring his undying love to someone else. It didn’t work out.

Molly, 20

My friends finally managed to convince me to go on the date with X Tinder Man. We agreed to meet at a pub next to the River Cam. Sitting at the bar waiting for Mystery Man to appear is no one’s  idea of fun. No one ever talks about how nerve-wracking it is to wait for a blind date; every swing of the door makes you sit up in anticipation. After 30 minutes he finally strolled in, casual. We got chatting and things went from bad to worse. Turns out he was a lawyer, and I should have left at that point. Conversation began with a discussed of the safety of Cambridge tapwater (he only drank San Pellegrino). As more pints were drunk, conversation descended into heated debates over the “real definition of consent”. Just as I set myself up to leave he excused himself to go to the bathroom. 5, 10, 15 minutes passed. After 20 minutes I received a text saying: “Sorry I had to run!” Turns out you can be stood-up mid-date. The evening ended with the bartender catching up to me with the tab. £20, an empty chair and an empty heart, the perfect end to my Tinder career. 

Sara, 23

He looked like the poor man’s version of the least flattering picture on his profile. Greasy hair, stained shirts and broken Converse have never been my favourite look. I started to question my decision to come to the Vaults. Conversation began with him asking me about “how I Tinder” – I still don’t know what that even means. He went on to tell me his strategy is to say yes to every girl, pulling them in with a “good one-liner” that normally draws them all in. That felt nice. Conversation moved onto drinking habits: “Yeah, sometimes I think I should stop, too.” When I ask why, he tells me about the time he woke up in an unfamiliar place with blood all over his hands. What do you even do with that? Throughout this I was very aware of his fixated stare, almost like he wanted to lick my face. The date ended with a climatic “you know what? For a Tinder date, you’re alright.” Once home, I crawled into the foetal position and checked Tinder. A new message from another guy popped up asking if he could ‘sit on my face’. I’ve decided this app isn’t for me.

Ruth, 20

Picture this: an upcoming Tinder date with a worldie. A current RAG Blind Date with a lovely but very average Trinity Mathmo. So Upcoming Tinder Date sits down opposite me in the Vaults with his own RAG Blind Date. I recognise him immediately. I say ‘hey’ in a cute way, he ignores me. I continue to try and make eye contact, despite being on a date with Lovely But Average Trinity Mathmo, who, it transpires, is in a threeway open relationship with his college wife and son. I can’t take my eyes off Upcoming Tinder Date and eventually I make the move; I lean over and whisper “It’s me, Tinder Ruth” in his ear. He looks startled. He leaves the Vaults with his RAG Blind Date almost immediately. Half an hour later I receive the message: “Sorry, I can’t make Thursday, I didn’t realise but I have other plans.” I see him in Cindies the following evening, getting with a new girl. He continues to ignore me.

But I don’t blame Tinder. I just need to stop going for twats.

The Tinder search for the Third Year Boyfriend continues.