I used to have but one Tinder-hobby: screenshotting the profiles of people who seemed like they might be serial killers and saving them into a special album called “Tinder Terrors”. Sometimes I’d show my friends, but it never went any further. Until I got into reading Tarot cards. 

While exploring the world of Facebook Tarot groups, I stumbled across a brilliant post by someone whose name I have unfortunately forgotten. They mentioned having a “pick-a-card” photo on their Tinder profile and would ask their matches to choose, as a fun way to practice and an ice-breaker. I decided to have a go at it myself.

The first matches started rolling in and picking their piles. I told them what I saw. The first guy was going through a really difficult time (it looked like depression, but I’d never diagnose someone, as I am not a licensed therapist) and trying to distract himself with Tinder. He confirmed, and the unmatching followed shortly after —it turns out it’s incredibly awkward to dive right into the deep stuff during your first conversation on a dating app. The pattern had been set, however, and so it went: a guy who was pretending to look for love but really just fucking around, another pretending to be casual but really looking for his future wife —we matched, I read their cards, we unmatched. Veni, vidi, unmatchi? 

While I got a huge kick out of being accurate, I got none of the excitement and mystery of meeting new people. Until Gabriel. 

As a general rule, I tend to always swipe left on profiles with only one picture. It’s never a good sign when someone is not willing to show themselves as they are. Gabriel’s only selfie was anything but high-res, and the angle made it even more difficult to discern his facial features. He seemed cute, though, and his one-line-bio inspired tenderness in me: “Lost in this world”. His cards confirmed he was, indeed, lost. But they also said something else: he was lying.

Curiosity got the best of me. I told him the cards said he wasn’t being honest, and his response was so meek and confused, that I brushed it off. We began talking. He would ask me to pull some cards for him every day. I’d describe situations at work and communications with his family overseas. He claimed to be frightened by the accuracy of it all, inspiring tenderness in my heart once again—don’t be scared, Gabriel! These are just my silly magic cardboard pieces. Let’s meet up, and I’ll show you there’s nothing to be afraid of. I didn’t even consider I might have something to fear. We set the date.

Gabriel was not who he appeared to be. Perhaps that had been him, in the photo— ten or fifteen years ago and from a deliberately confusing angle. A story for another time is why upon seeing him I still went on with the date. I made sure to keep it brief, public, and well-lit. He was awkward and quiet, and he said none of my readings in the week we’d been speaking had actually been true, he just wanted to play along with it. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, Gabriel. The cards said you were lying.

It was a hard blow, and I dealt with it by getting drunk on a Friday night with my best friend. The Tarot backed us up on this decision, too —every time we wondered whether to order another drink or call it a night, we got Temperance: clearly a barmaid pouring us one more beer. 

We complained about our respective dating lives and the difficulties of judging people by their profiles. Then we swiped together, exchanging commentary and judging people by their profiles. Whenever either of us doubted on someone, we’d pull a card and let it choose for us. And so I stumbled across Pedro’s profile, doubted, and got Temperance. Waiter! One more drink. 

It was an immediate match and I tried to meet up with him that very night. He said no, but we set a date for another day at a reasonable time and place. Sober. I kept getting the Temperance card for him, though. Pedro and I clicked and soon fell into a rhythm of speaking daily and meeting up often. Although I was sure there was a vibe, we never kissed or alluded to the possibility of something physical between each other. I was certain it was just a matter of time. For over two months (that’s 1.5 years Tinder Time) we went on like this, and I was really losing my patience. Every time I asked the cards, all I’d get was Temperance. It took me that long to figure out that, truly, Temperance was not a barmaid pouring another drink. It was about chilling out, checking my toxic behaviors, and taking a break from the dating apps. To this day, Pedro remains one of my closest friends. (In fact, he is the author behind all of the professional photography featured on this website!)

In the following years, I quit and rejoined the apps more times than I care to admit, managing to squeeze in a couple more catastrophic relationships and some healthy months of singledom. Recently, I joined once again, leaving my Tarot practice out of my profile and earnestly hoping to meet new people and spark a special connection. Funnily enough, most of the people I met ended up becoming my Tarot clients instead.

So I’ve created the definitive spread on gauging whether or not your most recent match is worth your time. Trust me, I’ve learned this the hard way.