Therefore the other i was at a party, talking to a friend of a friend—one of those special types of New York artists who never actually make any art night. We began telling The musician about any of it sweet ER doctor I’d came across on Tinder, as he choked on their mojito. “Ugh, Tinder—really? ” he scoffed. “Are you instead of Raya? ” He had been talking about the “elite” dating app that accepts only individuals in innovative companies, unless you’re superhot, in which particular case: Who cares everything you do? We shrugged and told The musician ya know that I just prefer Tinder—I’m a populist, not an elitist? We voted for Bernie Sanders when you look at the primaries, that type of thing. The Musician laughed condescendingly. “I guess Tinder is practical, if you should be into… Basic individuals. ”
I’d held it’s place in this example prior to.
Numerous times, snooty buddies of mine have actually resulted in their noses in the mention of Tinder, presuming i might make use of a “normal” dating app only if I’d never heard about Raya, or if—shock, horror—I’d been and applied refused. The opinion appears to be: Why head to an ongoing party that allows everyone in, whenever you could go directly to the celebration that accepts just a choose few?
To achieve usage of Raya, which established in March of 2015, you need to use, then an anonymous committee assesses your creative influence—aka your Instagram—and decides whether you’re fun enough to stay in the club. (thus why Raya is actually called “Illuminati Tinder. ”) The application happens to be growing in appeal, mostly due to press about its celebrity accounts—Joe Jonas, Kelly Osbourne, Skrillex, the hot one from Catfish, Matthew Perry (lol), Elijah Wood, and, needless to say, Moby have all been spotted.
But do we really genuinely believe that exclusivity makes one thing better? Certain, it is kind of cool to swipe past smaller celebs while drunkenly prowling for sex on your own phone, but you’re most likely never ever turning in to bed with the individuals.