Kirsty Bosley: Dating app does not reveal all the little things

I joined Tinder.

For those of you that don't know what it is, it's an app on which you can judge a person based solely on their pictures and a tiny blurb about themselves.

What's good about it is that both parties have to say that they 'like' one another in order for them to be able to engage in conversation.

That means no strangers approaching you and saying all manner of weird and unusual things that might make you consider ditching the internet (and humans) forever.

I'm single and I'm happy. I've got a great little core of people that I consider to be my greatest loves, and I share my life with them happily in friendship bubbles that I cherish.

But I also quite like kissing boys, so I thought I might have a little look to see where I might find one that wouldn't baulk at the idea.

Tinder, I quickly discovered, was not really the place. Scrolling through, I swept past the little faces of men in my area like an episode of the Generation Game.

Guy with no top on. No. Bloke smugly posing with a sedated tiger whilst travelling. No. Gym selfie, flexing muscles. No. A CUDDLY TOY!

No, no, no.

In a fit of downright shallow scrolling, I swept no on dozens of men who, for all I know, could be the nicest men ever. I began to say no for entirely bizarre reasons, like the fact that they were TOO good looking. I also swept no immediately on anyone that wrote 'LOL' or made a screaming typo.

I felt like a bad person. Hey, maybe I am one – it's certainly the most shallow thing I've done so far in 2015. I was swiping and swiping for something that I knew would never come. Something that could never come because this was the internet and not real life: I was looking for a spark or a connection. Eyes across a crowded room kind of heart-stoppers. I was looking for blushes and humour and really attractive voices (a la Barry White but less walrus, and less dead).

All I could find on Tinder were a bunch of dudes as completely clueless as to how best with the whole scenario as I was. For all of its pros, Tinder is drowning in cons.

The things that make people attractive are the kinds of things that they cannot compress into a few hundred characters on a dating profile. Their profile picture doesn't give away the adorable way they say certain words or chew their pen.

It doesn't reveal how beautiful their handwriting is or how polite they are to their Nan. And those are the kinds of little things that really make me fancy someone. There's a One Direction song to go with this, I'm sure of it.

Your personality is what makes you beautiful (another 1D song, strangely).

So for now, I'm going to delete the Tinder app, watching it wriggle in horror as I click the little X and let it disappear from my phone forever.

I'm more likely to find true love queuing for the bus.