Cast a wide net and you’ll catch a lot of fish. Cast a semi-attractive Tinder profile net and you’ll catch a lot of dick.

As someone who’s been in a serious relationship for years, the thought of joining Tinder — even for a social experiment — was exhilarating and scary.

It was especially daunting given that Ellensburg is my hometown and I would likely encounter people I shared sandwiches with in elementary school. As per regulation, I would have to swipe right for everyone.

The first “match” came after four swipes. “Blake” became part of the “Excitement Stage.”

From 6 p.m. until nearly midnight Monday night, my phone was a constant buzz of notifications. I swiped nearly 400 times.

I woke up Tuesday morning with 30 new matches and a new outlook on Tinder. Enter the “Learning Stage.” The girly squeals of elation quickly dissipated as the messages poured in,

“Hey how’s it going beautiful?:)”

“Can you help me with my math homework?”

“Hershey’s makes millions of kisses a day…all I’m asking is one from you;)”

“By far the prettiest smile I’ve seen on tinder”

“Hey your a babe quite simply wanna get some coffee or something?”

I’m not used to getting these sort of responses from men. Even if a guy does start a conversation with me in real life, he would never start with “hey beautiful.” As my inbox became increasingly overwhelmed with the new matches and messages, so did I.

I soon discovered one of the reasons why dating apps are so successful: anonymity.

The high message-to-match ratio I was experiencing was not typical of everyday life. The ambiguity that Tinder offers allows both men and women to be more confident in their approach, often engaging in behavior they might otherwise not.

Cue the “Passive Stage.” Instead of excitedly checking Tinder to see new matches and messages, I began to become indifferent toward the app. I thought I had seen it all; shockingly bold messages weren’t shocking anymore, 25 new matches became uninteresting.

My matches, however, quickly caught on to this passiveness. Many unreciprocated messages quickly turned into one-sided conversations.

“Hey there : )”

“How are you doing tonight?”

“Hello? This thing on?”

“Are you even real?”

“Do you have any interest in talking to me or is this going to be another pointless match sitting in the inbox?”

At first, the persistence annoyed me. Were they really so desperate that they felt the need to message me two to three times within an hour, despite me not responding to the first message?

My attitude towards this experiment from the start was light-hearted and carefree. It’s a dating app designed for casual hookups and hangouts. How serious could these people be? However, it became very apparent that many users take it quite seriously.

This experiment both met my expectations and surprised me. Despite not listing a “bio,” it did not surprise me that so many guys matched with me. Relying on just three photos reinforced the idea that looks trump other qualities, especially in the (online) dating world.

What did surprise me, however, was how many men “unmatched” me. At the height of the experiment, I had over 350 matches. By Saturday evening, nearly 100 had unmatched me. This was likely a result of neither one of us starting a conversation or their messages going unanswered.

I wasn’t expecting the seriousness or the need for instant gratification that came from swiping right on every profile. It was impressive, though, that those who did unmatch me clearly knew what they were looking for and a one-sided conversation wasn’t it.