(F)risky Business
Dating app data leaks, the fall of rizz, and how to flirt IRL (as a kinky bitch).
As an absolutely feral woman living in NYC, there’s very little I will say no to.
That includes watching a man demonstrate his pussy licking skills on stage. Well—ok, there was no literal pussy present. But he did trace his tongue along a watermelon positioned between the lace dress clad legs of a complete stranger. And it was fucking hot.
After fighting the early stage depressive episode urge to stay home for the fifth night in a row, I took my roommate to The Box for Dr. Alex Schiller’s signature show, Never Sleep Alone.
We silenced and sealed away our phones for an hour and a half of interactive, theatrical dating comedy.
Donning masks and a commitment to participate fully, we exchanged our earliest erotic memories with people we’d never met before. We held hands with the attendees next to us, promising “I’ll get you laid tonight” and confidently exclaiming “THANK GOD I’M FUCKABLE!”
Most importantly, we learned that the key to flirting is BDSM: Be Direct, Seem Mysterious.
At the after party, which is not not a sex party, I failed to put any of my new found rizz into practice when a boy from the Bay lent me his lighter.
I could cut my finger on a jaw as sharp as his.
But in my attempt to seem aloof and well connected, I let old acquaintances and new friends distract me from our budding banter.
I lost that cutie to a sea of hungry white women who couldn’t even bother to sway to the surprisingly amazing DJ set pouring out of the speakers at Outer Heaven.
Having rhythm isn’t a requirement for hooking up anymore.
Then my favorite leather jacket got stolen. Love that for me.
Speaking of theft, let’s yap about what’s afoot in the dating world this week while you enjoy an apt portrayal of what it means to yearn from Hozier himself.
When I’m swiping I fantasize about the loud, mischievous, hellish kind of love he sings for. I’ll take 100, please.
I’d rather get ghosted than have my nudes leaked.
Over the last few weeks I’ve noticed increasing reports of data protection & privacy violations on dating apps.
Maybe online daters can’t agree on what’s worse: emotionally manipulative situationships or a match desperate to cuff you even when you made it clear you just wanted to fuck.
Whatever you’re swiping for, I think we all want to keep our exact location private—but hackers are positively HOT for the sensitive information stored on the apps promising you connection.
New companies like social circle exclusive Cerca and the dating BeReal dupe Raw collect more than your phone number. We’re talking government IDs, contacts, daily selfies, & spicy text chains.
The worst part? Someone isn’t paying the security team enough, because that info can be accessed, stolen, and shared with code even I could learn.
So, be careful where you send that spicy nude.
Queer centered and kink forward apps experience similar leaks, and with deepfake revenge porn on the rise, we can’t take the risk.
Hinge hard launches safety features.
The app recently instated Jeff Dunn as Chief Risk Officer in their latest attempt to protect users. Funny that Jeff is a man when women make up Hinge’s most vulnerable users.
I’m sensing some performative ass covering.
Mind you, Match Group routinely suppresses or otherwise ignores sexual assault reports on their flagship apps, and Hinge has long been under fire for its safety fumbles.
Remember when a young woman took a serial Hinge rapist to court for drugging her on the first date? His profile remained active despite multiple assault reports spanning over three years.
My biggest concern is that Dunn, the new CRO, relies on AI to “improve” safety features like “Are You Sure?”—that little pop-up asking if a message was offensive or harassing. Which, spoiler, doesn’t prevent assault.
AI is the sharpest double-edged sword in modern dating, and I fear what full integration into the online dating experience will mean for us.
IRL dating will save us…right?
The most obvious response to AI generated pick-up lines is our valiant return to the “real world.”
But, the “real” has been fucking mangled by our underdeveloped social skills. Sex and romance have become stuff of DMs, SuperLikes, and paid Majestic Memberships.
We’re living through what sociologists call the “privatization of intimacy.”
We have fewer stories of meeting lovers out in the wild and Gen Z has less dating experience over all. Which means we don’t have as much game as we used to. Hilarious that the term “rizz” would be popularized during a moment when most people don’t know how to flirt.
And honestly, I’m guilty of lusting for a hottie at the club only to retreat in fear of rejection, commenting, “It’s just easier on apps when I know they already find me attractive.”
Yikes.
So, how do we flirt IRL? How do we tell fear to fuck off? And most importantly, if you’re a freak, how can you tell if a potential cutie at the bar is into the same kind of play you are?
This week’s Pleasure Press dives into a few tips on dating in the wild.