I always thought Tinder was for finding your next date, a relationship or hooking up (dear reader, I never went onto the app to find a hook up. This is what a few of my guys friends have told me). I don't have time to waste and always approached Tinder not as a hook up app, but as a way to meet interesting guys in New York City with the hope that one of my dates might actually pan out and turn into a relationship. I'm always a hope(ful) romantic! After a lot of swiping, hundreds of indecent proposals, and many first dates, I actually did meet one or two quality guys but it never really went anywhere.

Tinder worked for two of be best friends. One friend married a guy she met off the app and my other friend is on her way to being engaged by the guy that swiped right on her. If Tinder worked for my besties it could work for me too, right? What I defined Tinder as was put into question by the guy i nicknamed "Tinder Friend". Here's our little story.

TF and I both swiped right one magical winter eve. Always a sucker for a foreign guy without a green card (sarcasm), I just had to meet this Argentinian hunk. TF was in town visiting his sister for the holidays, who lives on the Upper East Side. After my divorce from my Turkish ex-husband, Burak, I normally wouldn’t waste my time going out with a another guy who doesn’t live in New York, let alone live in New York legally, but his profile intrigued me. My always-hopeless-romantic-self had my head in the clouds thinking that maybe if TF was “the one” he would move to NYC forever and we would jet set to our country home in South America (burst the bubble here).

Anyway, I invited TF to meet me at my Hell’s Kitchen local, a cozy Moroccan place where I tend to bring many of my first dates to so I can easily bail and walk home if the date ends up smelling like yesterday’s garbage.

TF looked everything like his pictures had promised: tall, dark, handsome, nice smile and when he opened his mouth to greet me—Oh! That accent made me weak in the knees. I thought to myself, “Yes! This is going to be an awesome time! So excited I agreed to meet him.”

We talked for what felt like hours about his life in Argentina, his travels abroad and about my life here in NY. As the hours went on, the more I became sangria-flirty and I just wanted to make out with this guy already! But TF was not so very flirty. It certainly seemed like we were having a great time! He even walked me home, right to my front door, arm-in-arm—but no hand holding. I chocked up his physical distance to being shy or maybe he was a true gentleman and actually wanted to get to know me and not jump my bones like some of the American guys I had been out with. TF didn’t make any mention of a girlfriend back home and after all why would he have a girlfriend and be out meeting other women on Tinder? Right?

Second date: On this date, TF and I went to a nice Mexican restaurant. He got bonus points in my book for hauling ass from the UES back to Hell’s Kitchen to hang again. I thought that this would be the date we would make out! Maybe he doesn’t like to kiss on a first date—he’s a traditional kind of guy—but this second date would be it! I just knew it…or so I thought. I really wanted to spring my inner Lip Slut on TF! But that didn’t happen. Lip Slut is a term I use when all I want to do is just make out and nothing else. Being a lip slut means also not having to worry about what you look like naked the next day because you have no intention on sleeping with the guy right away.

So this date, much like the first one, was great! We talked, there were no awkward moments of silence, but the whole time I yearned for TF to make a move already! Brush my hand, sit a little too closer to me—something! Now I was wondering if he maybe he was gay…

Third date: It was a Saturday night, which I typically reserve to catch up with my girlfriends, but I broke my don’t-ever-go-on-a-date-with-a-new-guy-on-a-weekend rule so early on in the game because I kind of liked TF despite the fact that he still hadn’t even as much as held my hand. I think I was intoxicated by his charming demeanor and good looks.

For this date we left the Kitchen and went out for a nice Italian dinner at a cute little restaurant tucked away in the West Village. TF always offered to pay. Who said chivalry is dead? Or maybe he was hiding something, which I would later find out.

After dinner we made our way to the Gansevoort rooftop to take in the captivating city skyline. How romantic! We sat down on a cozy, little couch, and—again—just talked. Is this guy ever going to make a move or what?! We were three dates deep and TF still hadn’t even held my hand. I just didn’t get it at that point. I finally decided that I would be the one to make the first move and flirtatiously touched his leg in the hope that he would finally grab my hand and hold it but NOPE. NADA. TF just sat there with his hands grasping his cocktail glass like it was going to jump out of his hand and bounce off the rooftop!

TF then decided to dance and he could move! Dancing was in his blood which turned me on even more! I decided to seize the moment and jump off the couch and dance with him, even though I have two left feet and can barely keep a beat but I just knew this was going to be the magical moment our mouths would collide! The scene was set perfectly: beautiful Manhattan skyline, two beautiful people, and cocktails to loosen our inhibitions. Right?

I’m such an awkward dancer and can’t find the beat for the life of me but I tried, I really did. I pushed myself closer to him because the only kind of dancing I seem to be good at is grinding like it’s 1990. I figured for sure he would pull me into him and finally kiss me for fuck’s sake! BUT, no, it didn’t happen.

Maybe he didn’t want to make out with me because of my totally “awesome” dance moves?!

Feeling frustrated and defeated I plopped back down on the couch and finally asked TF what gives? Was it my horrible dance moves? Are you a 30-plus-year-old virgin? Are you gay? What came out of his mouth shocked me.

TF told me he had a girlfriend in his homeland that he didn’t intend to cheat on because they were in love.

I was pissed! I questioned him as to why he would waste my time getting to know me AND take me out to dinner if he had a girlfriend back home, and did she know that he was meeting other women in other countries?!

TF claimed that Tinder was a way for him to make new friends when he travelled abroad. I asked him then why not find guy friends to “hang out” with? I mean couldn’t his sister introduce him to some of her friends or something? I attempted to explain to him that Tinder, at least in the U.S.A., is not an app to just make good wholesome friends on. I told him that he should have been up front with the fact that he had a girlfriend because it wasn’t fair to me and it wouldn’t be fair to other women that he decides to meet in the states.

We are not in elementary school and Tinder is used to go on dates or to at least make out with someone! I personally am on Tinder to find a SINGLE guy I am compatible with to possibly get into a relationship with. Hey, it worked for one of my friends who found her fiancé by swiping right. It could work for me, too. However, it certainly wasn’t going to work with TF who I felt tricked me into being his play-pal friend while he was in New York. I work hard and my days off are segregated for my best girlfriends and for those whom I want to make time for. I made time for TF because I thought we actually had some chemistry.

After an hour of back and forth about the meaning of Tinder I decided to call it a night and suggested he google the meaning of Tinder. I was tired. I should have listened to my girlfriend friend Melissa who always told me not to waste a Saturday night on a new guy. He has to earn a weekend night. She always gives great advice.

As for TF, I do think he meant well but I don’t think he’ll be swiping right again in New York anytime soon.

As for me, I downloaded Bumble.