Fit Finder – A Force for Good?

For most of us, there is no worse fear than not having any relationship, nor achieving that many thrills at university. Although the student stereotype is sexy-time at a drop of a hat.

Realistically, there is still the great stigma of actually approaching someone. Most of these other opportunities are during a Friday or Saturday night. That point when downing a bottle of vodka and mounting them unexpectedly like an elephant seems like the best plan of action.

A new website will hopefully change that stigma altogether. Called Fitfinder, its tagline ‘Witness the Fitness’, encourages you ‘tweet’ anonymously about the person you find attractive but for whatever reason you don’t feel confident enough to chat up. So say you are in ‘The Courtyard’, waiting an eternity for a bowl of chips. If you see someone you quite like but you would never approach, you head to the website, state whether it is a girl or a boy, followed by what hair they have and then a tweet detailing something about them. The hope is that either the person who is the ‘fitty’ will notice that they’ve been ‘fitted’ (if that’s a word) and try to find you out, or that other people know who you are on about, and comment about their ‘fitness’.

Now you can imagine the lechery that such an exploit typifies. Looking at Bath’s feed you think you are walking across stalker city. ‘Female, Brunette hair. Little Welsh girl… been following her for a couple of days. she smells really really good’ is probably a welfare issue. ‘Female, Brunette hair. hair with a gentle hint of honey blonde. sunday, ill be there. silent area. i need to have SEX! come FIND me!’ probably needs to get the police involved.
But actually, if you read between the ones that need to have a restraining order, you actually find a few sweet messages. ‘Male, Black hair. Thin cuttie, bit indie, bit geeky, got that cheeky chappy look, kinda hot.’ was seen in the Open Zone library area last Saturday night. I don’t know how but if I was recipient of the feed ‘Female, Brunette hair. Looked proper gorgeous as she wolfed down her chips’ I would somehow feel relatively complimented.

Finally it can seem relatively normal to banter about someone else without having to apply a baritone voice, scratch your privates, act laddish and be like ‘PHOWAR. I’d give her one!’. No longer do you have the awful step of getting your mate to introduce you, making it seem as if you are either Jesus or a slimy toad. This is then followed by several awkward minutes when you’re just scared, you just say ‘hullo’ and talk about the library refurbishment or the price of a Prawn Maris Rose sandwich.

The only embarrassment that will be caused is writing publicly on a wall about where they are and how fit they are, and acting all nice about it. And trust me out of all of the experiences the single can face, writing 140 characters is the least of my worries. Win!