Bumble

I’d been joking for some time that my Berkeley goggles were in the mail, but the truth of the matter was that after four months of school, I still hadn’t acclimated to the general populous who gravitated towards the Holy Trifecta of Hinge, Bumble and Tinder in Alameda County.

As I’ve started my own fintech startup and interacted with founders and venture capitalists, I’ve begun to question the movement for girlboss feminism.

So, growing up with hearing only horror stories — and now hearing only the fairy tales — begs the question in my mind: Are dating apps really that bad? 

Giving up your power isn’t necessarily a bad thing. And as I’ve come to learn, there’s not such a strict line between dominance and submission. 

If users are unable to recognize that dating apps are making the courtship process easier, then they may struggle with long-term relationships down the line.

In an admirable effort to stay sane, students have turned to one of the 21st century’s greatest and most controversial innovations: the dating app. 

I’ll be frank about my experiences with dating apps. I’ve navigated Bumble and Tinder a tad bit during strange periods when the dating river had run dry, during which I went on a total of three quite regrettable dates. Each of those were troubling and deepened my suspicion toward the plausible turnout of the apps

Today, we have a tendency to avoid the scary in-person moment — when your heart skips a beat and your hands tremble while you approach that gleaming smile across the room.

Each day, every single student at UC Berkeley abides by the same rule: avoid stepping on the seal like your life depends on it. Here’s a complete list of all the things that your superstitious peers would rather be doing than stepping on the seal.

After almost two decades of trying and failing to have boys in vinyl record and vintage bookshops notice me, I convinced myself that the boys simply didn’t like me because I was too much for them to handle.