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.

To the Fragile, Conservative Few

It must be very hard to have your beliefs challenged nearly every single day.  It must be exhausting, indeed, to have to defend yourself, your choices, your "lifestyle" all the time to your detractors.  (I know it's exhausting over here to fight for those human rights.)  It must be tiring to be constantly questioned, especially when you find yourself unable to come up with answers to those questions.  And when you do find yourself ever so slowly inching away from those antiquated, racist/sexist/homophobic views, you probably want encouragement.

I imagine you want praise for gradually moving down the spectrum from "Complete and Utter Bigot" to "Somewhat Intolerant."  Maybe a nice pat on the back or someone to say, "Congratulations on your trek to fully evolved human being!  You are doing the right thing!"  Perhaps a participatory ribbon that says "Not a Complete Asshole...Anymore."  You want acknowledgment of your journey toward enlightenment, and I know there are people out there who will kindly and patiently give you such.

But let us be clear:  that person is not me.  It will never be me.

It is not my job to praise you for doing the absolute minimum when it comes to not being a conservative dick.  It is not my duty to measure your painfully slow progress and give you a cookie at each teeny benchmark.  I have no time for your fragile ego; my time is too busy spent fighting tooth and nail for those basic human rights that you can't seem to accept.

Image Compliments of RogueNegro.com

Casual Misogyny: An Open Letter

Dear Y98 DJ:

I can't remember your name.  You're not one of the regular DJ's.  I heard you over the weekend, during some off-hour.  You were introducing a Taylor Swift song and said, "Y'know, for having such a clean-cut, good girl image, she sure has a lot of songs about being a bad girl."  And then you mentioned another song coming up, by someone "Taylor hasn't dated."

Here's the problem with everything you said:

What exactly makes Taylor Swift a "good girl"?  Is it because she's pale and blonde and (to quote her own song) "has that classic, red-lipped" look?  Perhaps it's because she went to a private Christian high school and had a 4.0 GPA?  Maybe it's because many of her first songs were somewhat "innocent" in their subject matter or stories of crushes on boys (which is probably because Swift was only 16 when her first album was released)?

And what about these new songs makes her "bad"?  Because she talks about breaking up?  About having sex?  About being an adult?

Let Leonard lay down some Gender 101 for ya because clearly you don't know.  Here's an exercise usually done in the first day or two of class.

List all the words you can think of for a woman who has a lot of sex:  slut, whore, easy, skank(y), hooker, prostitute, loose, trollop, tramp, harlot, strumpet, hussy, tart, floozy, etc., etc.

List all the words you can think of for a man who has a lot of sex:  stud.

See the difference?  Oh sure, sometimes we can throw "man-whore" in there for the guys, but we even have to add the qualifier "man" to indicate this whore is not female.  Women with healthy sex lives are treated as "bad" women, whores, et cetera, while men are celebrated for the same fact.  You, sir, are perpetuating this age-old stereotype with your comments about Taylor Swift's "goodness" or badness."

But, Leonard, it was just said in passing!

Welcome, my friends, to the world of casual misogyny.  Women of all ages face comments like this on a daily basis.  This DJ's comment is yet another thrown in our collective female face. Please stop reinforcing the "Madonna/whore" false dichotomy.  Please stop implying women can't have healthy sex lives (and also sing about those lives).  Male artists sing about relationships all the time.  When was the last time someone commented on their works in a similar fashion?

Lastly, let Leonard get all "New Criticism 101" on you:  please don't confuse the speaker/narrator (the "I") of a song, poem, or work of art with the actual artist.  Yes, even if it sounds just like that person, down to some of the biographical details, we still allow a small amount of "space" between the two.

But Leonard, it was only said by some DJ whose name you can't even remember!

People in the public eye (or ear, in this case) like DJ's and broadcasters must be especially careful with their words as their words reach a larger audience.  That's part of the job and responsibility of being/having a public persona.  People listen to you, and you never know when someone like me is going to quote you verbatim to point out your casual misogyny.  Every piece of daily sexism adds up; the only way to break it down is to take personal responsibility and STOP SAYING IT, whether you be a DJ or listener, artist or audience.

Try to make sure yours don't suck.

How to Say No to a Date

Leonard is about to lay down some of the best advice you're going to get.  But first, a small story to serve as an example.

Last semester, I was sitting in my office (with the door open) chatting with the one office mate I see regularly.  Said office mate left, so it was just me and my colleague across the hall.  His door was open, too; sometimes we chat across the hallway.

So my colleague says, sort of out of the blue, "Do you like to drink wine or beer?"
Me:  "Oh, I like wine.  I'm not really a beer-drinker."
Him:  "Would you like to drive me to get a drink some time?"

At least, that's what it sounded like he said.  I think he actually said, "would you like to join me for a drink sometime?"

And I was caught off-guard and rather nonplussed.  I was momentarily confused because I had first thought he was asking for a ride (to a bar??  Who does that??), so my brain was catching up.  I was taken aback because I realized I was just asked out on a date.

Don't you see this ring on my finger?  Haven't you heard me talk non-stop about my partner??

Granted, it doesn't look like a traditional engagement right, but still!

More than that, I was shocked because I had somehow thought that in a professional, collegiate environment, I'd be safe from being asked out by random men.  Especially men who do the same job I do.  And especially men, doing the same job, who are quite literally twice my age.

Words tumbled out of my mouth in response as I was on the spot.  "Umm, I dunno, maybe.  It depends.  I often have rehearsal."

I do often have rehearsal in evenings.  I also have a forty-five minute commute to school, so when I'm done teaching, I have no desire to hang out; I want to get started on the long drive home.  I also don't socialize too much with co-workers.  Perhaps if a group was going out for a drink, where we'd discuss work type things, maybe.  But work is work and my friends are my friends, and the two don't usually intersect.

My colleague soon left to teach his own class, and I was still dumbstruck by what had happened.  One of his office mates had come in during the tail end of our conversation, so I asked her if she overheard.  "Did he just ask me out?" I asked her.

And I hated asking her.  Because it sounds arrogant to "assume" someone has asked you out on a date, right?  Besides, what's the big deal, right?  Shouldn't I be flattered?  Besides, maybe it was completely innocent, right??  (I'll answer these questions at the end.)  The office mate said she hadn't heard, and added, "Besides, I think he's married anyway."
You and I both know that doesn't stop a lot of people, but I thanked her and wandered back into my own office, trying to keep my embarrassment and discomfort to myself.

Fast forward to this semester, just a week or so ago.  Our office doors are open, and my office mate and I are laughing about the awkwardness of student crushes (they do happen).  Then she leaves.  And older male colleague across the hall again speaks to me.

"Hey, Lenny, so would you like to have that beer this weekend?  Did I tell you about the microbrewery --"

"I'm sorry, I can't.  My partner is going out of town, and I have to take care of the dog.  We got a new dog who can't be left alone."

While it sounds about as plausible as "I have to wash my hair," my statement was absolutely true.  Our new forty-pound puppy cannot be left to her own devices, and my Unit was indeed going out of town for work.  When we're not home, Dogzilla has to be in her crate (which she HATES), and she can only be in there for a limited amount of time.

I was also irked because 1) he said my name wrong.  It was the equivalent of calling someone named "Caroline" -- someone who has "Caroline" printed on the sign on the office door, on the business cards, and everyone else calls "Caroline" -- the equivalent of calling her "Carol."
2)  I had already said I don't drink beer, which is true.  Wine?  Yes.  Hard liquor?  Yes.  Anything pretty with an umbrella in it?  Hell yes.  Beer?  No.

I was not unprepared this time, though he once again waited until I was alone to approach me.  And my reason was absolutely legitimate.  There was a brief pause, and then he said, "I didn't realize you had a partner."

Me (super bright-cheery-chipper):  "Yep, I do!"
End scene.

So here's the point (yes, there is a point).  I shouldn't have to have an excuse or reason to say "no."  Actually, I shouldn't have to worry about being asked out at my place of work (don't shit where you eat, people!), but that's another rant entirely.

Somewhere, somewhen, we women were taught that we must have some "reasonable excuse" for turning down a potential date.  I don't know when this happened.  I certainly don't remember anyone telling me this when I was younger.  But nonetheless, the thought is there.  And if we don't have an immediate, logical reason, we should "give the guy a chance."  It's the same logic behind trying new foods:  how do you know you don't like it until you try?

Here's how:  fuck you.

No, seriously, there does not need to be a reason or an excuse.  You can simply say "No thank you" to an offer for a date of any kind.  You, be you male or female, do not need a reason to turn someone (be they male or female) down.  Even if, like the above example, it is not explicitly stated that said outing is a date, you can simply say "No, thank you."  You are not required or obligated to hang out with people socially for any reason whatsoever.

And sometimes, we do have a reason.  Sometimes things just don't feel right.  Call it intuition, or your gut; I like to call it the "silent alarm."  It's that nagging feeling, sometimes almost a physical sensation, that for whatever reason this person does not jive with you.  For me, it's usually been because said person is psychotic, but that's another story.  Listen to that alarm.  It's there for a reason, no matter how tiny.  That alone is enough for you to say "no, thank you."

I repeat:  you do not need to give a reason or an excuse.  You do not have to be in a relationship or "have other plans" that night.  You can simply say no.

I am so tired and frustrated of hearing stories from my female friends about feeling bad for turning someone down or worrying about "hurting their feelings."  And I'm really angry over my own past examples, like the one above and many, many more.

1)  We all take a risk when we ask someone out.  Disappointment is one of the potential outcomes.
2)  You are not responsible for how someone else reacts to your answer.  That's on them.

And if you're polite (but firm), you've done nothing to really hurt their feelings.  Yes, they might be disappointed, but like I said, that's a risk we know going in.

While this is mostly directed to women, it applies to anyone and everyone.  We need to stop feeling obligated to other people for no good reason.  We need to stop feeling bad for saying no.

Now, I'll address the questions you might have about my anecdote:

1. He was just being friendly.  Really?  Then why wait until I'm alone and cornered?
2. He just meant it as a social thing.  That's entirely possible, but I'm still not obligated to go be social.  Also, see #1.
3. He meant as a group with other colleagues.  Then he should have said so.  Also, see #2.
4. You should be flattered.  Maybe and maybe not.  While I fail to see what's flattering about someone twice my age crossing work boundaries, maybe it would be flattering to you.  But the discomfort I felt about being cornered and put into an awkward position, plus getting my name wrong, etc. outweighs any potential flattery.

But none of the above really matter; I am allowed to simply say no.  And that does not make me a horrible person, a frigid bitch, or a cunt with a stick up her ass. 

I hope women -- people, really -- read this and take this advice to heart.  I wish I had learned it years ago; it would have saved me some trouble in the long run.  In fact, not listening to that silent alarm and simply saying no, will take us into our next topic:  Dealing with Stalkers.
And that's not hyperbole; I do mean stalkers.