6 – Double Display of Desire

I don’t know when you last logged onto a dating app, but for me it’s been ages. And while a lot has changed since then, one thing has stayed the same: shockingly unflattering profile pictures. My best friend regularly sends me a curated selection of the most spectacular disasters.

It’s fascinating that people will spend a small fortune on flawless headshots for job applications—and then think a lopsided selfie from under their stubbly chin, in crime-drama lighting, and wearing a T-shirt that was already embarrassing during their 1993 student exchange is good enough for dating.

Gentlemen, if you’re reading this and considering joining a dating app, call my best friend first. Not because she’s still single, but because she’s a photographer who knows how to put you in the right light. You don’t need to be a supermodel—I’m certainly not—but everyone has a bright side, and there’s no harm in showing it online.

To make sure my husband’s pictures didn’t end up in the “Hall of Shame” collection, I picked out some shots for him and even took one at the piano—nicely lit, with a charming smile. One of many firsts still to come.

Tell me, have you ever taken your husband’s Tinder profile pic?

His enthusiasm impressed me. Personally, I had zero interest in Tinder—and thanks to the irresistible Swiss, I didn’t need to. The last time I was on a site like that was when I met my husband. Back then, I had plenty of fun with it—though at least I could do it all in German. French online dating, on the other hand, seemed to me about as sexy as peeling potatoes in a floral apron on a Sunday morning.

You don’t know my husband that well yet, so here’s a quick sketch:

• he’s one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met,

• brilliant,

• hilarious,

• a little lazy—

• and he loves Excel and any kind of statistics.

  
  

Oh, and according to legend, he had a 100% success rate in online dating. For fairness’s sake, I should mention that I only know this story secondhand and never verified it. But supposedly, fifteen years ago, he wrote to exactly one woman. You’ve guessed it—me. Two weeks later, he moved in, “exported” me, and we got married. Not bad stats, right?

Mine would definitely look a bit different.

With a track record like that, it’s hard to improve. And Tinder isn’t exactly kind: you can only send a message if you pass the initial photo test, and you’d better manage to sell your best sides in your bio—with wit and charm, like a job interview. Except instead of a résumé, you’re presenting your libido and your emotional shortcomings.

Adding to the challenge for the hubby was the unusual fact that he is married, his wife took the profile pic, and that he’s “looking for new sparks.”

Not exactly your average swipe-me pitch.

In the end, he stepped right onto the double display of desire—and within a week, it paid off with his first date. And believe it or not, the two of them didn’t just match online!

I swear, this man should quit Tinder and start playing the lottery—then we could both quit our jobs and turn sexual adventures into a full-time career.