In the days of olde, the consuming of leftovers was viewed as a sacred ritual to be shared among only one's closest relations. Eating another person's discarded food implies a bond, a bond that says "I am familiar enough with the whereabouts of your mouth that I'm OK with eating your gnawed-upon chicken wings." A waiter friend at a high-end Williamsburg cocktail bar once told me he'd finish customers' abandoned drinks if he'd determined he'd be willing to make out with them. This seems logical.
Thanks to technology, it's no longer necessary to leave your unfinished meal in the hands (mouth?) of Fate. Like Craigslist for food, a new app called LeftoverSwap enables conscientious eaters and spendthrifts alike to mutually benefit from each others quirks/laissez-faire attitude toward hygiene.
The premise is simple: If you've got some food you know you're not going to eat, snap its photo, add a description (Gently used Ben and Jerry's Half-Baked Ice Cream, good condition, light exterior wear and tear. Please note: Cookie dough has been removed) and post. A pin will drop alerting interested parties to you/your food's exact location.
If someone nearby is interested in the crumbs your fat fingers were unable to extract from your Lay's snack bag, you may then engage in the world's most awkward text exchange: (Example given: "Hey, pizza still available?") The next step, presumably, is to meet in a well-lit public place and conduct the hand-off, an interaction which onlookers will puzzle over for years to come. ("Hey, I'm Dave, and this is my pizza, Natasha. I used the napkin a little, did you...OK, no, you'll just put it in your mouth. Cool.")
The LeftoverSwap website touts the app's ability to prevent waste, as well as "fewer people picking through dumpsters." This, of course, boldly assumes that people picking through dumpsters for sustenance have access to an iPhone. Details, details.
The real virtue of LeftoverSwap, of course, is its potential as a dating website. Sorry, nerds: LefTinderSwap is officially taken.