How to Answer the "We're the Same Type of Weird If" Prompt on Hinge

Name one specific, harmless oddity that you do, small enough that some women will recognize it and say "me too." "We're the same type of weird if you read the ingredients on every jar out loud" is the kind of line to write. It names a habit she can check against her own.

Most men answer this stem by claiming to be weird. They write random, quirky, or a bit of a nerd, as in "We're the same type of weird if you're quirky and random." They treat the word as the content.

The trouble is that "random" says nothing. Every person on the app believes they are a little odd, and the sentence is true of all of them. A reader cannot picture a random man, so she cannot picture dating one. Calling yourself quirky is a claim. Naming the exact odd habit is the evidence, so name the habit and leave the label out.

An answer that needs explaining, or that sounds rehearsed ("I am a bit of a nerd"), fails a simple test. Could a stranger have written this sentence for anyone? If so, it is not about you.

A good oddity is small, specific and harmless. It is something endearing to most people and recognizable to a few.

Think of the habits you have never told anyone about because they seemed too minor. Keeping a spare phone charger in every coat. Arranging cutlery in the drawer by size. Saying thank you to the sat-nav. Feeling a small, private loss when a library book is due back. Whispering in empty museums.

Each of those is the kind of thing a woman can read and respond to with a laugh or a "wait, I do that." Her reply becomes a recognition, not an effort, and recognition is the easiest reply there is.

The size matters. Too large, and it becomes a quirk with a story attached that she has to process. Too small, and it is trivia. The right size is a thing you would mention at the end of a good dinner.

Our view is that specific weirdness works in a prompt answer, with one condition. The oddity must not be trying too hard.

Some men have a stock of manufactured eccentricity. They announce their collection of unusual hats, their strange diet, their pet that does a trick. Often these are real, and often the way they are presented is staged. A staged oddity reads as a performance, and a performance is the opposite of being the same type of weird as someone else.

The test is spontaneity. Would you have thought of this yourself, a second before you wrote it, without a gimmick in mind? If yes, use it. If you had to invent it, drop it.

The stem asks about a shared weirdness, so write something that someone can share. That sounds obvious, and men still miss it.

An oddity only you have is a fascinating fact. An oddity many people secretly have is one she can say "me too" to. "I alphabetize the spice rack" is that kind, because there are many people who do it, and many more who envy it. "I once built a canoe from a bathtub" is interesting and closed. She might be impressed, but she cannot say "me too."

Make it easy for her to say yes. Aim for habits she can recognize in herself or in a friend.

A shared oddity can end with an invitation, because the whole premise is that you are comparing. Hinge's relationship expert advises writing answers as hooks, with an open-ended question or suggestion at the end.

"We're the same type of weird if you read the ingredients on every jar out loud. Tell me your worst one." That ends with her turn. Or keep it quiet: "We're the same type of weird if you have strong opinions about what makes a good pen." She can answer with a pen.

Do not explain the oddity at length. Over-explaining kills the charm. Say it, give it one clause of detail if it needs it, and stop.

A confession admits a flaw. This stem does something different. It points at a quirk that is not a flaw, and it asks for a match in spirit. The oddity should make a reader feel closer to you, not feel she has been told a problem.

So avoid oddities that sound like symptoms. Anything about anger, control or obsession is outside this frame. Keep to the soft, silly side.

Read the line once, then ask the usual questions. Is it specific? Could a stranger have written it? And what would she type back in one line?

If the answer is "haha" or silence, add the detail or the hook. Hinge does not hold you to a first draft. You can change the answer as often as you like, and Prompt Feedback marks an answer as Great Answer, Try a Small Change or Go a Little Deeper. For anyone with this stem up, or thinking about choosing it, a single concrete oddity is the whole job.