Youâre mindlessly swiping through Tinder, barely paying attention to the profiles passing by. One after another, the same types of peopleâgroup photos, filtered selfies, bold bios filled with confidence. Youâre not even thinking about it, and then, suddenly, you freeze.
Her profile. Emily. The shy girl from your dorm floor.
Her picture catches your eye, not because itâs flashy or polished, but because itâs her. Sheâs sitting on her bed, curled up in an oversized sweater, glasses slightly askew, her face framed by soft, messy hair. The room behind her looks clutteredâbooks piled up, clothes strewn across the floor. Itâs not a glamorous shot, but thereâs something real about it.
You didnât even know she had Tinder.
Her bio is short, almost apologetic: âEnglish Lit major. Kind of shy, but love good conversation. Looking for someone to talk to⌠maybe more?â
You feel a little pang of recognition. Youâve seen her aroundâhead down, moving quickly between the dorm and her classes, always alone. Sheâs the quiet one, the one who never really says much when everyone else is hanging out in the lounge. Now, here she is, putting herself out there, maybe just as lost as you are in this sea of faces.
For a moment, you hover over the âlikeâ button. Would she even recognize you?