Adventures in Dating (Apps)

In my therapy session earlier this week, my therapist suggested downloading a dating app as a means to distract myself/get over my recent heartbreak.  She also mentioned that these apps could be good for ego boosts.  My response was, "I don't think my ego is really the problem right now."  And it's really not.

When she and I started talking about possible future relationships, I drew a blank.  All I could think was that my current circle of friends is made up of people who either have partners or are not people I'm interested in dating, often both.  Because they're my friends, not potential romantic partners. My therapist said, "Then it's time to widen your circle."

She then suggested I look at some of the dating apps out there.  She said, "Tinder," and I think physically reacted negatively.  She also mentioned Bumble as being more women-friendly, and I thought, Yeah, I remember hearing about that.

I told her the thought of a dating app terrified me.  But I couldn't quite nail down or express why, but my feeling was very visceral.

The last time I tried meeting people online was pre-text message era!  We're talking like "Yahoo personals" or something.  And then some years later, maybe Match.com?  But even then, it was the same five lesbians on every site; I'm pretty sure I had coffee with all of them.

So after therapy, I downloaded Bumble (for free) on my phone.  And then I didn't touch it for 24 hours.  I mean, I didn't even open the app.

Then, when I did open the app, it said, "Connect with Facebook," and I immediately closed it again.

Then, because I'm a nerd, I did some research.  I found a nice "how to" article from Business Insider of all places.  By the next time I dared open the app again, I felt a tad better and a bit more informed.  And I read the fine print beneath the "Connect with Facebook" promising me that the app doesn't post to Facebook ever.  And even then, I made several changes to the access the app had to my Facebook profile for  my own peace of mind.

I went about "setting up" my profile; however, there's very little to actually "set up," especially if you just import six pictures (the max allowed) from your Facebook profile.  I was surprised (and therefore scared) at how fast it was.  No surveys to fill out, no questionnaires about my hobbies and what kind of cheese I like to eat.  I had to condense myself into a brief bio -- not too hard to do for an actor as I have to write them all the time for show programs.

And then I found a button to make my profile "private," and I hit that little fucker so fast!  "Private" on Bumble (apparently) means that no one can see your stuff, and I breathed a sigh of relief at the sudden reprieve and a chance to tweak my profile/bio a bit.

And during all of the above, I had butterflies in my stomach -- and not the excited, happy kind.  This was trepidation, not anticipation.  But all I could reason was that it's all so new (and new is scary, change is bad, etc. etc.).  So I gingerly waded back into the fray.

And then I hit my next conundrum:  there is no way to "skip" a profile.  You must decide, then and there, if you want to swipe right (good) or swipe left (bad) before you can see any other profiles.  And I have yet to figure out or see how the order of profiles is chosen¹.

So of course I started to freak out a bit.  What if I changed my mind?  What if I miss somebody good?  What if I want to compare to the next profile?

And then the crux of it:  I did not want to swipe ripe.  I was terrified to do so.

And it wasn't until a few minutes later in the bathroom (of all places), sitting on the toilet, when I made the stunning realization of why and why all of this was so frightening to me.  I'm still trying to unpack it all, but I'll do my best to explain it here.

My first, unbidden thought about a dating app, and then "swiping right" was:  But then they can see me!

I recognized that non-butterfly feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I didn't want to invite their attention.
At. All.

Because then what?
Then I'm stuck with them.
How do I get rid of them?

Things like
Tease
Well, you were asking for it
You invited me
bounced through my head.

Inviting attention like this felt akin to interacting with cat-callers and street harassers (which I don't do).  Just keep your head, girl; just keep on walking.

I flashed back to a date I had in 2006-ish with a man.  We met for drinks at his apartment first, before dinner.  Sitting on his couch, mid-conversation, mid-sentence even!, he leaned over and put his mouth on mine in a slightly insistent (and not all that great) kiss.  I was more shocked than anything at the time.  Yes, I had agreed to a date, but that didn't automatically mean (forcing) a kiss, let alone in the first 20 minutes!  I didn't like the kiss, and then I still had to suffer through the rest of the date.

I thought of my stalker and our original coffee meet-up/non-date.

And through all of this, and telling some of the briefest bits of these insights to a couple of friends, I tried not to cry at my desk at work.  On my birthday, no less!

I thought back to the old days of the Internet and some of the BDSM forums, trying to extricate myself from people I clearly wasn't interested in but had made the mistake of being "nice" to.

I didn't (and don't) want any of that again.  I didn't (and don't) want to be accused of leading anyone on².  I didn't want to "swipe right" unless I was absolutely sure I could "follow through" (with what?  what the fuck does that even mean??) -- and that's not how these apps are designed, even the ones that are designed for more than just random hook-ups.

And that's when I realized I'm not ready for this yet.  That's a lot of baggage to unpack, mostly (though certainly not only) due to toxic masculinity.

Everything is still too new, my heartbreak too fresh; I'm still too tender and bruised.

One thing about the person who did break my heart:  I felt very safe with and around them, both physically and emotionally.  There was very little holding back of feelings and words, the freedom of which was exhilarating.
-- up until the moment they broke my heart, of course.  That almost goes without saying.

So today I messaged two of the five "matches" I had made³ and basically said, "Sorry, I'm not ready for this dating thing; I did enjoy your profile."  And then I made my profile "private" again.
I didn't owe them that (or anything), but in addition to not wanting to be rude, I might want to find them again when/if I return to the wide, wide world of online dating.

But Jesus H. Christ!  Who would have thought that one free app and sitting on the toilet alone with my thoughts would bring to light so. many. issues.

And I don't just mean with me.

I mean with our society that has instilled such fear in me -- a forty-year-old woman -- making me too paralyzed to "swipe right."

¹I have emailed the Bumble staff about that; rather, I put down that I'm interested in both men and women, yet I'm only getting men's profiles.  The only way I've been able to see women's profiles is if I change it to women only.

²One of the things I appreciate about Bumble is that men can't initiation conversations.  At. All.  Once a "match" has been made, the woman has 24 hours to start a conversation (another conundrum/source of stress for me -- the time limit!).  After that, the "match" disappears.  If both people are same-sex, either can initiate conversation.

³Only if both people have "swiped right," will you both be alerted that a "match" has been made.  So far only 5 of us had done so.  But for my ego boost, Bumble kept showing me the number of people who had already "swiped right" for me, offering to show those profiles first (if I upgraded the app and paid them money).  That number was last at 50+.  Yay me.

On the Subject of Hashtags

Oh, hashtags.  We have such a complicated relationship, you and I.  As a rule, Leonard tries to avoid them.  Hashtags, to the best of my understanding, are/were a way to categorize posts and things.  For instance, this post is marked with "labels," "social media," "hashtags," and "David Tennant," among other things.  (For the record, though, Blogger does not refer to them as hashtags; it says "labels.")

And I get that.  If I want to search for posts -- particularly on Twitter or Tumblr -- on a specific topic, tags are very useful.  I can find all the David Tennant fan fiction I could ever possibly want that way¹.

But what about hashtags on posts on/in forums or social media platforms that don't really use that feature (read:  Facebook)?  And what about the hashtags we simply make up?  Is anyone really going to go searching for #thatmomentwhenItrippedinfrontofmyboss?  Or how about #sorrymythesisisshowing?  What is it we're doing with hashtags that we simply couldn't do with the text itself?

The last two examples -- hashtags we make up -- Leonard actively tries to avoid, on the principle that they defeat the purpose of a hashtag.  So why do we use them?  Is it like giving a subtitle to your post?  They are often funny, one-liners (or "one-phrasers"), something witty or clever or snarky, a rim shot or stinger to one's post (#askingforafriend and #sorrynotsorry are the only ones I can think of right now).  Sometimes they seem to be instructing the reader what to think or feel about that particular post.  So why use a hashtag to do that?  Why not use the text of the post itself?  I often stop myself when there is an itch to use a hashtag and ask, Why am I doing this?  What am I trying to accomplish?  If the post isn't funny without the hashtag, or if the reader does not come to the intended conclusion, then I'm doing something wrong in my writing.  (Usually².)

Do hashtags in their current form accomplish something rhetorically or textually that we couldn't otherwise do?  These are the the things that keep Leonard up at night -- that, and acid reflux.  Please weigh in with your thoughts regarding hashtags.

¹ Not really.  Maybe.  #AskingForAFriend
² Or maybe you're just reading it wrong!  Leonard does sometimes give in to the hashtag temptation.  C'mon, the hashtag #DroidsMoisturize is funny!

Curse You, Emeli Sande!

Curse you and your catchy song and your funky name!  Really just the song; you can spell your name however you like.  (Fun Fact:  her given name is "Adele," but she didn't use it for her musical career for obvious reasons.)

Your song "Next to Me" is incredibly catchy.  I find myself wanting to sing along, and then I actually listened to the lyrics, and found I was offended.  Let's take a look-see:

You won’t find him drinking at the table  
Rolling dice and staying out ’til three 
You won’t ever find him be unfaithful  
You will find him, you’ll find him next to me

Wow, there's so much wrong with just that one stanza, I need to stop and take a breath before I start.

...

Okay, here goes.

• Why should I care where your boyfriend goes??
• It's very sloppy "logic" that a person who drinks and gambles is also going to be unfaithful.
• It's also a false dichotomy that a person who is not unfaithful must then be attached to his girlfriend's hip 24/7.

This opening stanza is representative of the whole song.  Sande lists the places you won't find her boyfriend, but insists you'll find him "next to" her.  I find it rather offensive that, again, a significant other has to be "next to" their partner in order to be considered faithful.  I also find it suspect that a person would feel the need to insist to everyone else that said partner is "next to" her all the time.  Sounds a bit like the lady doth protest too much, y'know what I mean?

Oh sure, there are some lyrics about her losing her money and faith, and this nameless man (because, of course, it IS a man *coughheteronormativecough*) will still be next to her, but again, who cares?  Why do you need to prove this to us, Emeli Sande?

Sadly, apparently a lot of people care.  Facebook ads¹ would lead us to believe that there are whole segments of the population looking for mates who are "faithful."  Apparently there are so many unfaithful men out there, others feel the need to qualify their faithfulness.  I at first read "faithful" (on said ads) as a mention of spirituality or religiousness, but I was mistaken.  No, Facebook was truly asking if I wanted to meet "Single Black Faithful Men."  No, Facebook, I don't.  Clearly your algorithms aren't working correctly if you think that's where my tastes lie.  And again, there's a lot wrong with that "ad" as well, but this post isn't about that.

So good for you (I guess), Emeli Sande.  Facebook ads worked for you in finding a faithful mate!  I still find it offensive, and I will protest your damn catchy song by not singing along.  Not even a little bit.  I may even change the station (though I make no promises).

(Image courtesy of Yellowdog Granny)

¹What do you mean Facebook ads are not clear representations of real life??