Tinder and I are on a break.
I needed a hiatus from the flurry of come-ons, dirty messages and questionable pictures that thrive on the platform. So I haven’t been actively using it for the last several weeks.
At the same time, I heard about a different, two-syllable app ending in “r” that purports to bring together people. Cuddlr. The name is no trick. The goal of Cuddlr is to make cuddling happen between strangers. Or as the company officially explains it on its homepage, to be “a location-based social meeting app for cuddling.”
I thought I’d seen it all in the romance/dating/singledom digital world. Certainly, I hadn’t.
Cuddlr goes a little like this: A user downloads the app in the same way they would any other mobile product. Like its peers, Cuddlr works through Facebook, so your profile picture and identity is pulled from the social media site. Then, from there, it’s really a matter of either inviting or saying yes or no to invites from strangers who also are on Cuddlr.
The ask is where the differentiation comes in. Cuddlr makes it quite clear in its instructions that this is not about hooking up or dating; simply cuddling. If two people meet and decide they want to get to know each in some sort of communicative way they’re asked to broach the subject post-cuddle.
Hold on. If you’re like me, you’re probably still confused, and questions are forming in your head: The app helps you do what?
What do they mean by cuddling?
When I downloaded the app it tells me that a cuddle can constitute “lying together in a park, window shopping holding hands, hugging, playing with each other’s hair, putting your head in someone’s lap.” But, of course, these are just ideas. The suggested course of action is, when responding affirmatively to a cuddle ask, to also to suggest a location and specific activity.
Off the bat this reminds me of those times when I’ve seen do-gooders assembled in downtown D.C. our outside of a Metro station with signs advertising “Free hugs.” Hell, I’ve even partaken. Hugging makes you feel good. Physical contact does have its benefits of nurturing and comforting the huggers.
But letting someone play with my hair? Putting my head in a random dude’s lap while sitting on a bench? I’m not sure I could do that. Could you?
Then, I wonder the next logical question: who? Who are the men on there trying to arrange cuddle dates? Are they the same ones on OkCupid or Tinder trying to get at this whole meeting women thing from a different angle? Is it just hippies who legitimately want to spoon or squeeze someone they’ve never met without any impure intentions?
I do like that Cuddlr has some accountability. Since you’re logging in via Facebook and giving scores to users there’s some recourse for coming into contact with a creeper or freak who’s up to no good. Cuddle law-abiding citizens can get more points and stand out in the same way that, for years, Couchsurfing has tried to make it seem much less dangerous and scandalous to crash with a stranger.
Lastly, I wonder where all this arranged cuddling really does take place. The company alludes to parks as a suggested locale. Do people do this? Are the people on a couch at bars I hit up really Cuddlr users as opposed to boyfriend-girlfriend? Or are those looking for affection bringing it home and letting in cuddle buddies to their apartments?
Bottom line: The nexus of Cuddlr seems sweet and honorable enough. In the explanation to users we’re told, “Cuddlr springs from the belief that we don’t have enough opportunities for safe, consensual, nonscripted, communicative, fun, silly, serious, spontaneous physical affection carrying no further expectation.”
Is Cuddlr the answer to this stated problem?
–Dena