Muy buenos, amigos! I’m sure we all remember that episode from Sex and the City where Samantha gives Mr Funky Spunk a blow job and exclaims, ‘Honey, they don’t call it a job for nothing.’ Well, that got me thinking, as I was swiping through profiles on Twitter on a sultry summer afternoon. There I was, sizing up potential bed-mates purely based on an image or two, and sometimes, not even that. Even if you happen to swipe right for each other, there’s a maze full of potential traps ahead that’ll make Catherine Zeta-Jones role in Entrapment look like child’s play.
And while most Tinder how-to guides ask you to stay clear of personal information, I believe it would certainly help to put a few basics out there to help our Tarzans and Janes (or Johns) navigate this tricky urban jungle. Everyone knows that Tinder is one big, edited, selective lie from photos with the best lighting, angles, sides and filters, and bios that are too good to be true. Any injection of realism and practicality should be welcome.
If sex really was like a job (there is after all a position to be filled), having a ready reckoner of skills, would help find the right person, making it easier than navigating the minefield that it is currently. Dating is, after all, kinda like a well disguised job interview.
Think of yourself as an organisation. What are your bedroom goals and objectives? Describe your function, the need you can fulfil, your markets and competitive advantages.
It’s only natural that you should enumerate your skill sets when you’re applying to a position with someone new, right? So, what if we handed over our sexual resumes to new partners? Not exactly a list of who’s done whom, but rather a list of our vital stats, what we’ve done, what we will do, and what you’ll never do. At the very least, it would save us all a lot of bad sex (and expensive dates) if we could ask a few of these things upfront.
The missionary statement
It’s always great to preface your resume with a synopsis of who you are and what you’re looking for: Are you looking for a relationship, just dating, just f**king, or just playing? Do you want something exclusive or poly? Are you active or passive in bed? Generally speaking, what are you interested in and attracted to? What are your non-negotiables? Think of yourself as an organisation. What are your bedroom goals and objectives? Describe your function, the need you can fulfil, your markets and competitive advantages.
Do you have a bachelors, masters, or PhD in sex? Or are you a fresher and eager to learn? Note: I just learned that PHD is also an acronym for ‘pretty huge dick’ (heh) – but this ain’t the section for vital stats. What are your specialisations? Have you earned the scout-badge equivalents for your bedside manner? It would be fun to them!
Here you’d flesh out sexual activities, kinks, and fetishes you’d like to fulfil. The less detailed the better. And, of course, how far along the grey scale are you - I mean, come on, do you actually expect someone who’d consider drafting a sexual resume to be completely vanilla?
Sexual resumes, understandably, have the potential to be unromantic and ruin the air of mystery. It lets the cat out of the bag, and airs out personal information before you’d normally reveal it. Some people are unwilling to share such details with just anyone, but it does offer an opportunity to have ‘the conversation’ sometime before the sex happens. So, you know, maybe you should let the cat out, before you let the dog out.
References furnished on request!
When singing your own praises is not enough; and because you can’t enlist on exes for recommendations, fictional reviews are the way forward. There’s one Tinder profile that nailed it with these fictional reviews:
“One hell of a guy”
The New York Times
“You’d be crazy not to swipe right”
“He’s on my phone’s screensaver”
PHOTOS HARSH MISHRA v STYLING AAMIR AASHIQUE v HAIR & MAKE-UP ANUSHKA BINDRA MODELS HITESH BISHT, MILA MAZANOVA