This article was written by Aniruddh Nigam (Batch of 2019). I’m done with Tinder. Yup, it’s over. Consider me retired. Someone take my phone and drag the Tinder icon to the ‘uninstall’ icon. Let’s be clear what my grouch is not about. It’s not about the one Tinder incident which everyone in college loves to exaggerate and joke about (screw you Bunty, I did not ask you what you were wearing). It’s also not some regurgitated crap about how vain Tinder makes us, because I’m the

vnshjj I’m done with all relationships – commitment’s not for me. “I love you” will not cross my lips, and rings will make me flee. But every once a while I find my nether regions quake a burning urge consumes my mind – my hands begin to shake! There is but one thing I can do to make myself relax: A boink! A doink! A shag! A screw! An explosive climax! Now, earlier, to find such things, My gentlemanly self would visit bars and skating rinks and brothels for my health. But jus