If you haven't heard of Tinder, you have been living under a rock or you are happily taken.
For us singletons, Tinder is a free app that turns your smartphone into a virtual catalogue of the opposite sex and makes finding a date feel like flicking through your favourite magazine or weekend paper.
Since the app went live just over a year ago, more than 13 billion swipes have been clocked, about two million matches are made every day in the United States alone and the average Tinderer checks in about 11 times a day, for seven minutes at a time.
I was introduced to Tinder at a party about a month ago, thanks to a bunch of overly giggly girls swapping Tinder war stories – homage to the dating veterans we've become.
At one stage someone's phone became a digital version of "pass-the-dating-parcel" as we all ogled potential suitors for one another, by simply swiping right for "yes" and left for "no".
Of course as soon as I got home, I downloaded it, logged on with my Facebook account and picked some photos from my galleries.
Revealing only your first name, age and offering a small space for a brief blurb, I set the gender, age bracket and distance parameters and was ready to be Tinder-ised.
Using the GPS on your phone, the app presents potential options (think Zoosk and Hot or Not) but what sets this app apart is that only users who have "liked" each other are actually able to be matched, in an attempt to eliminate undesired contacts.
When kismet prevails and initial contact is kindled, then it's up to the users to start their own fire.
Tinder's 27 year-old chief executive Sean Rad, explains, “Tinder works the way people tell us they see the world – they walk around, they see girls and say in their heads, 'yes, no, yes, no'.” Obviously Rad is representing the fellas with that explanation.
After five minutes of gleefully swiping away, I realised this app wasn't for me.
Firstly, if you're single, why put up photos of your wedding day? This is supposed to be a dating app, not an ego-boosting tool to see if you've still got it.
I was appalled at the amount of profiles featuring photos of babies and small children; note to those men, you posing with a child does not make you a chick-magnet and what makes you think it is OK to put a child's face on a dating app?
Despite Tinder's creators saying it breeds more authenticity because it is linked to a Facebook profile, there are still plenty of fakers and weirdos out there and it is not hard to create a bogus Facebook profile.
I was very disappointed in myself that I was simply choosing to say "yes" or "no" based on someone's photo.
And my biggest bugbear, as a potential hottie pops up, is that the app also shows if you share common Facebook "likes" and "friends".
Suddenly I was faced with the dilemma of what if I swipe this guy and they ask our mutual friend about me? Paranoia began creeping in as I swiped left to a number of attractive men simply because we shared mutual mates.
Out of all my friends, to my utter dismay, it was my younger, off-the-market sister that has been seriously holding out on me, with 14 men in my first swipe session showing up as friends of hers.
So why haven't my friends or my sister ever thought about setting me up? Knowing I'm single, they are always saying how they wish they knew someone to hook me up with – hello, just let me at your Facebook friend list!
Has dating in this brave new world become yet another thing we do alone? Have we become so accustomed to interacting online that we have forgotten the more traditional ways?
Are our Facebook and real, live friends holding out on us when it comes to finding love?