All the people you want most to avoid in life, now in one convenient app!
“What a great service!” “What a genius idea!” “Why didn’t someone think of this before?”
These and other giddy exclamations will most certainly not come pouring out of your face the minute you read about Luxy, a new, horribly edited, clumsily designed, so-dumb-it-might-be-a-hoax dating/hookup app designed exclusively for rich, attractive people, AKA “Tinder for douchebags.”
You read that right: it’s another dating app. For wealthy people. Who think they’re hot. Who make north of 200K a year, who stretch/flex in the mirror at Sports Club/LA for at least 30 minutes every lunch hour, who’ve never had a real orgasm, who impress dates with how their giant flat-screen TV rises up out of the bedroom floor, who know which Napa wineries have Superchargers for the Model S, who bleach their teeth, who take Uber Black Car to Whole Foods during a vodka/Oxycontin binge “for the cupcakes,” who frequently hire a personal shopper, who whine to the bartender about the size of the ice cubes in their whisky, who’ve been in therapy since the Clinton administration.
Do you know this group? Can you smell them a mile away? Because you might want to avoid them at all costs.
For all the reasons listed above, of course, but mainly because, well, they sort of hate you.
You, with your stupid, poor-person Tinder dating app. You, who regularly dates all those ugly, non-wealthy, Honda-driving hipster tech bro ditzball lug-nut losers.
“It works just like Tinder,” said Luxy’s CEO. “With one big exception: Our app allows users to weed out the poor and unattractive.”
Isn’t that sweet? Isn’t that also called “trolling?”
Is Luxy a hoax? Who cares. Does it have a niche? Doesn’t matter. Is it yet another sign of the apocalypse? Big deal. Is the CEO refusing to reveal his/its/their “true” identity because the app is flamboyantly obnoxious, might be a fake and anyway, it’s sort of tough to out-douchebag the founders of Tinder itself? Obviously.
To flagrantly obnoxious to be real? You decide.
But here’s the most important question, before this story, and this app, and this insufferable trend, disappear from clickbait-land forever:
Might Luxy actually be something you, the single, miserable, dirt-clod yokel who wouldn’t know an Audemars-Piguet from a Timex, could use to help you find true love? Sure!
Here’s how:
Let’s say you’ve met someone intriguing. Remotely attractive. Not a sociopath. Doesn’t hit kids, punch women, own more than two cats. Happily paid for his/her own $4 gourmet toast. Is not wearing a slouchy hoody or a baseball cap, playing Candy Crush Saga, riding a fixie bike or yammering about how much s/he loves Game of Thrones because OMG dragons!
Good for you! Time for some research.
Log in to Luxy. Scroll around until you’re fairly sure your new romantic interest isn’t anywhere in the network. In other words, use Luxy as it’s meant to be used: as a douchebag filter. Why not?
Be thorough! Pretend you’re a hot “consultant” who makes 400K a year working as a lobbyist for Monsanto, and you just got back from D.C. and wow was that ounce of blow and case of ice-cold Veuve Clicquot in your dad’s Gulfstream G4 the perfect way to blow off steam, or what?
See who responds. Is your new flame in there anywhere? Did someone named Armando or Dominique reply immediately? Did someone just offer to “escort” you to Dubai to see his gold-plated Veyron? No?
Voila! Luxy has served its purpose. It has helped you weed out exactly the type of human you want nowhere near your world: entitled, vacuous, vain enough to think an app like this is exactly what they need but cheap enough to believe it should be free (Sign that Luxy is bulls–t No. 27: Any real dating app for rich people would cost $500 a month and ask for your dental records and two years’ of tax returns).
But wait. You say you tried all that, and your new love interest still didn’t work out? Sorry. Maybe try Grindr?
