Why I'm Weirdly Attracted to Dudes With Fish Pics on Dating Apps

In "Gilmore Girls," there's a sweet scene where Luke is teaching Lorelai to fish (or trying to). He's brought a kiddie pool full of trout for her to practice in before she's ready for the real thing, and though he gets a little gruff, a little grumbly — as is typical for our leading male hunk — Luke secretly savors every second spent with the woman he loves.

It's a moment that's helped fuel my fantasy of dating someone who's a little rough around the edges but ultimately a good, loving dude who can rock the hell out of a flannel shirt. Forget fuckboys — this year, I want to fall for a fisherman.

If you've ever been on a dating app, you're probably aware of the persistent fish pic phenomenon: that is, when suitors post photos of themselves enthusiastically wielding their smelly catch. There's since been countless memes and articles exploring the archetype. And last year, on April Fools' Day, Tinder even joked they were planning to remove all fish photos since "research" illustrated that 92 percent of singles had reported "getting the ick" from fish pics. (As one of my girlfriends once put it: "It's just fucking gross seeing a dead animal on my screen when I'm trying to enjoy looking at a hot dude.")

Call it biology, call it social conditioning (or ahem, ovulation), but even for a self-ascribed feminist, there's not much I love more than watching a man roll up his sleeves to set up a tent, chop up some firewood, or even just drive a stick. And, as you might have already guessed, fish-loving dudes on dating apps also fit right into my wheelhouse.

Before you judge me, I fully recognize I'm in the minority here. After all, fish are slimy, squirmy, and don't exactly scream romance. A man holding up a dead one might not be the first impression you want of the guy you hope to someday call your beau. (As a vegetarian, I will never forget the guy whose display photo on Hinge was literally just a slab of raw steak with zero context. At least buy a girl dinner first before you show her your meat!)

Still, fishermen are a catch in my book because of the jarring contrast they offer to my own day-to-day life. In college and in the workplace, I'm bossy and in control. At home, though? I'm tired of being a "strong woman" and just want a chance to cool off. I still remember how refreshing it was dating a guy who didn't just expect me to cook and took the time to make me homemade meals. That said, I want a boyfriend chef who knows how to cook and provide and has survival skills like boating, fishing, and backpacking.

When I went kayaking in Minnesota last summer, I met countless sexy, well-mannered fishermen who nodded at me and called me "miss" when I passed them by on the water. They've since convinced me to swipe right with zero shame each time I see a new hot dude on Hinge bearing fish.

A fish pic is also different from other obnoxious displays of hyper-masculinity — like the classic shirtless, chest-puffing gym selfie — since the man in question is presumably outdoorsy, patient enough to wait for a fish, and able to perform the manual labor I don't always want to. What can I say? I just enjoy being near open water and really hate opening jars.

Before I started really dating, I was a strictly indoors kind of gal who feared bugs and non-air-conditioned environments. My exes, who've often been more outdoorsy than me in the past, have helped push me outside my comfort zone, and well, outside. Some of the best dates I've been on have been spent under the sun or stars, hiking, walking in the park, or camping. Having a boyfriend who wants to spend the afternoon searching for salmon or sea bass while I quietly read by the shore sounds like a near-perfect way for me to relax, get some sunshine, and admire my man's biceps as he casts his fishing line into a nearby lake.

So, while you might not see me cramming worms into a tin can for fun anytime soon, as a soon-to-be graduate in a college town, I'd like to veer away from self-serious douchebags who mansplain religion and crypto to me and instead gravitate towards a fisherman of perhaps few words who wants little more than to be in nature, sit by the water, and wait for his catch. Aren't there worse quirks to have than really liking fishing?

Nadia Khan is a culture writer based in Canada who explores the intersections between the personal, the political, and pop culture. Nadia has written stories for Teen Vogue, the Toronto Star, and Canadian Dimension, among others, and she interned as a labor reporter at PressProgress.