April 2016. I was shaking off the after effects of The Roofer. I was exhausted and drained. I had spent the last two years dating non-stop in search of “The One”.
Everyone mourns the death of a relationship differently:
-Some turn to friends and family for support
-Others go on the rebound
-Some take the negative energy and turn it into something fabulous – striving towards personal goals with absolute gusto
-Others turn to partying, indulging in drugs and alcohol
-Some isolate themselves
-Others travel, take on new hobbies and/or find their true passions
Then, there are those like me who combine a few of the above. I jumped back on the horse and engulfed myself in flirting, fucking, searching for the next potential boyfriend and future life partner. I drank a lot and spent lots of time with my Ride or Die’s; but in the forefront was always, where and when will I meet “Him”?
I now realize that I mourned the end of my engagement by distracting myself with “serial dating” because I was heartbroken, in a rush to find “my person” because that would make me feel whole, happy. I didn’t truly appreciate my self-worth and I wanted to fill the void that The Heartbreak had left. I thought I was really okay after the whole break-up, but clearly I wasn’t (Queen B was right).
Words of encouragement from my loved ones were sweet. They’d say “don’t worry, you’re the full package, the right man will come along” or “it’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen, trust in your journey and have faith”. It all came from a place of love, but it was hard to listen to and even harder to believe. I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it; but I don’t think I knew what I wanted beyond having a man in my life who I could call “my boyfriend”.
Online dating consumed me. My life revolved around these apps. I was checking emails and notifications constantly throughout the day and then I’d spend the better part of my evenings browsing through profiles, filtering, judging, gawking, admiring, wishing. I was constantly hunting; I wasted so many hours.
Don’t get me wrong, I was curious and excited about the possibilities, at first. Almost everyone I knew, who was single, were on some sort of dating site/app. I started on Match and eventually added Tinder and OK Cupid to my roster. Initially, there was plenty of positive anticipation. I mean, I know couples and friends of friends who are in love; met their “one and only’s” online. I was hopeful; thousands of prospective relationships at my fingertips.
It was enjoyable, for a while. Who wouldn’t love all the attention? It was fun and exciting to come home from work and open up the email notifications and dissect the profiles of the men who reached out and the ones who I was attracted to.
After a while though, it got repetitive, annoying, disheartening and disappointing. After so much time and very little success, I felt shitty. The novelty wore off and soon I questioned myself – “what the fuck was wrong with me that I keep attracting these losers? Why don’t the ones I message respond? What do I need to do to attract the right ones? When will this fucking happen for me?”
Eventually you notice that most profiles are the same; mundane, full-of-shit personal resumes…”I love travelling, good food, my family, being spontaneous”, etc. fucking etc. If those weren’t the type of guys reaching out, it was guys dressed in furry costumes (hehe Queen B), guys posted up on luxury vehicles and of course dick pics; lots and lots of dick pics. When in the world did that become a type of standard? When did that become Ok? Call me old-fashioned, but gauging a man’s potential does not start with a full frontal shot of his fucking junk. Of course, a hot man with a big dick is always welcome, but not straight out of the gate.
Most guys were never what they seemed online anyway.
The one good thing about having received nudes and dick pics is I shared them with my home girls. We’d laugh, swap photos and stories. Good times.
I had reached my threshold. I didn’t want to be online. I didn’t want to date. I needed to focus on my own shit; find my happy place, whatever that was.
What happened to the days of meeting people through friends or in public places, like on the subway, at the grocery store or in a bar? Fuck, I longed for those days. Meeting someone online is convenient, but overall, sucked for me.
I was thankful for the experiences and the lessons, but damn, I needed something better. I definitely lowered my standards and it was tough on me mentally and physically. I was literally exhausted by the mere idea of meeting someone new and going through the “first date” motions.
November 2019. It’s been three years and I’ve had no desire to get back online.
To those of you who have had success, enjoy/prefer meeting people online, etc – kudos. This is not an attack on online dating, just my experience.
Lesson(s) Learned:
- Be careful. Be safe. Meeting some rando online can be fun, but dangerous. I realized that meeting some of these guys at their homes on our first date was not the smartest fucking choice.
- When navigating this dating world, keep your standards and self-worth in tact. Don’t waiver.
- Don’t date someone to fill space. It’s far more exhausting and demeaning then it sounds. I was filling a void, I was trying to find an external medium to make me happy, thankful and content.
- Listen to your fucking gut.
