If you’ve been single in the digital age, you know how the story goes: you meet the right guy and/or gal, you connect over your favorite episodes of The Office or where you were during Occupy Wall Street, and you start planting the seeds for a casual fling. You set the date. You set the venue. You even drop a couple bucks for some new threads.
But then, you get the bad news: that special someone does not live on a submarine. Suddenly, all that valuable groundwork crumbles, and you’re back to thinking you’re going to be alone on this damn submarine forever.
As someone who has been stuck on a submarine since 1998, I can say that my life has put the “hopeless” into “hopeless romantic.” I’ve run the dating site gauntlet, from OKCupid to Match.com to Tinder, and I have had every rejection in the book: “I can’t physically get to you,” “I don’t have a submarine,” “You’re too far below sea level,” etc. But that was all before I discovered the app that changed my life: Torpedate.
That’s right: the first application solely dedicated to finding compatible partners who also live on submarines, Torpedate is dedicated to making sure you find that special someone that you can spend your life with in the briny deep. Using a revolutionary algorithm system, Torpedate finds nearby submarines, analyzes their country of origin and threat level, and then matches you with like-minded singles on those vessels. Whether you’re military personnel, a crew member for a villainous billionaire, a submarine enthusiast, or simply stranded on a sub floating in the middle of nowhere for over twenty years now, Torpedate goes above and beyond to make sure that your romantic expectations are met or exceeded.
Initially, I was skeptical of Torpedate; after all, your expectations in general seem to flatline after a few months of perpetually moving in a giant metal cylinder which will surely become your coffin one day. Yet in a matter of hours, I had received multiple messages from sub-bound women around the world. So I made sure to break out my finest outfit (a hand-made tuxedo crafted from military pressed bed sheets and industrial grade neoprene) and surfaced in hopes to finding Mrs. Right.
Normally, I’m a ball of nerves when it comes to first dates, but thankfully, Torpedate had more than enough information on file to break the ice. No more small talk about our favorite places on the sub, which is almost always the galley; instead, we kick things off with some naughty nautical flirting with some jokes about the pump and torpedo rooms. From there, the date and I are off-to-the-races, as we talk about our favorite pastimes, cool docking experiences, sea creature gossip, and, of course, nuclear launch codes. Submarine fellas, take note: women love when you talk to them about nuclear launch codes.
After a few dinner dates, Torpedate really started to launch my love life in the right direction. Granted, getting to the second date was a bit more of a chore, but hey, the same submarine won’t just show up on your radar willy-nilly. Luckily, Torpedate also offers a video-chat option just in case you want to pursue a long-distance relationship, which is actually most at-sea relationships.
While you might automatically jump to more erotic or overtly romantic uses of the video-chat function, there’s a much-more practical use of Torpedate’s video function. That’s right: even thousands of leagues into the ocean, you have to look out for catfishing. You never know when you’re going to see a cute (and available) member of the opposite sex on Torpedate, set up a date, and when you open the hatch, they drop off months worth of pan-fried actual catfish rations and hit the bricks. Though I respect the hustle, I mean, who seriously wants to eat that much catfish?! One video chat, and you can save yourself a lot of unwanted catfish dinners, friends.
Even if my romances are still a work-in-progress and I’ve yet to find “the one,” I can’t recommend Torpedate enough in you’ve been striking out at love since striking out to sea. It’s made me a happier, healthier person in an environment that seemingly only attracts pariahs and antisocial misfits, and soon enough, I’ll be saying goodbye to 2 a.m. hull breach sirens and saying hello to wedding bells. And if you happen to be a lovely lady who’s sick-and-tired of “landlubbers,” go get yourself a submarine, download Torpedate, and if you’re lucky, I’ll show you why they call me “Red October!”