Link: https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1t9lp99/my_tinder_is_cursed/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Rimmont on 2026-05-10 23:00:41+00:00.

It was eight o'clock at night, and the same annoying guy as always was writing “hello” to me for the third time this week. Out of boredom, I tried something different than ignoring him; I looked up an image of a satanic ritual online and sent him a string of strange characters. The man replied: This is not of God, girl repent, I rebuke you in the name of Jesus Christ. I laughed so hard when he blocked me; sometimes extreme situations require desperate measures.

Suddenly, a message arrived from Julian.

— What’s up, prettiest girl in the office?

— Haha, dummy. Did you finish the report yet? I’m feeling too lazy to go in on Monday.

— Yeah, I finished it, but if you need help, let me know.

— I felt like going out, but there’s no plan.

— That’s what happens for being bitter with everyone who says something nice to you. Download Tinder and go out with someone.

— I wouldn't use that; a pretty girl like me doesn't need it.

I went to the kitchen to find something to eat and came back with a ham and cheese sandwich. I lay back on the bed and started checking Instagram. In the stories, everyone was partying, at some fancy restaurant, or traveling abroad. I finished my sandwich and opened WhatsApp again, hoping for an interesting message; nothing, only work messages. I decided to download Tinder.

When I opened it, it asked for my name and age. I’m already 31, but that number three looks a bit shocking, so I put 29 and played dumb. The next problem was the photos. I had to put up eye-catching photos, or at least look halfway decent. I searched my gallery and found a couple of photos from a girls' trip we took over two years ago. I chose two where I looked sensual but sophisticated.

The first guy was a dude with dark glasses, at a party—yes, dark glasses at night. Discarded. The next one was muscular and somewhat handsome, but his face was very childish. It was as if they had mounted a baby’s face on an adult’s body. I swiped left. The third was a very old man; he must have been at least sixty and had grey hairs in his mustache. The photo showed him with a beer in his hand.

With that outlook, I decided that maybe Tinder wasn’t for me, so it was better to find some other activity for tonight. I put on one of those romantic comedies where the couple pretends not to love each other until the last scene, when they suddenly realize they can't live without one another and declare their eternal love. Those things don't happen in real life; maybe the jokes and the pretending, but nobody is that romantic. I went to the kitchen for some ice cream, and my cat kept crossing between my legs.

I opened the app again to see if I could find something interesting. A guy who looked handsome appeared; he had tattoos and a black t-shirt. He looked tall and slightly dangerous—something interesting for tonight. I swiped right, and we immediately had a match. Without even a greeting, the guy sent me a photo of his private parts. I blocked him. How gross. I curled up with my cat until sleep took over.

The next day, while I was taking the metro to work, I managed to get a seat, so I took out my phone. Out of habit, I opened the app and kept swiping. There were rockers, skaters, farmworkers. A photo of a famous singer, Alejandro, came up. One of his party songs was a huge hit, and I hesitated, but I knew I didn't have a chance, so I swiped left out of pure spite.

I went on with my day, and when I got home, I was scrolling when I saw a video of Alejandro with a black and white filter, sad music, and doves. What happened? I searched the news. Alejandro had died in an accident. How strange; he was cute after all. I could have had a date with him—too bad.

I settled into bed and opened the app. Thinking about Alejandro’s death gave me the chills. Still, it was fun to swipe. I opened the app again and saw Julian. I laughed a lot at the photo he had; he was in a crocodile costume. I sat there thinking for a moment. Julian was funny and he loves me a lot, but I’m not attracted to him in an erotic sense. I thought about swiping right to match and have a laugh, but maybe he would misinterpret the situation. I took a screenshot and then swiped left.

I sent a message to Julian with the screenshot and wrote: “Found love yet? Haha.” He didn’t answer. Several minutes passed, and he didn’t respond. He usually replies very quickly. I went on with my things, did my skincare routine with some music. I checked my phone with a strange anxiety; I knew what I was imagining was impossible.

A couple of hours later, I received a call from Julian's mother. He had died in a traffic accident. That night, I couldn't get the image of the Tinder profile out of my mind; it’s not a coincidence. As if in a trance, I looked for someone relatively well-known or identifiable. A university professor appeared. Before swiping left, I looked him up on the university website. That led me to his official social media.

I spent the night awake, unable to stop thinking about Julian and what was happening. But I rejected the idea that I was actually responsible for his death. The next day, I went to Julian's funeral; it is perhaps the saddest day of my life. All his friends stayed silent, and I cried a lot; no one is ready to let go of a friend so young.

Three days have passed since then, and anxiety has kept me in a state of permanent tension. I open my phone and insistently check Julian’s profile and the university’s networks. Today at noon, I received the final confirmation: the university declared that the professor passed away from heart failure and offered condolences to his students and family.

I feel extremely guilty. I killed Alejandro, Julian, and that professor—and who knows how many more people. I also know that what I am thinking is very wrong, but I feel an uncontrollable urge to keep swiping. I decide who is next.