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.

Listen to Your Gut

And by "your gut," I mean MY gut.  I've advocated frequently in the past for listening to your body, your "gut" and what it's trying to tell you about (possibly dangerous) people.  And I was recently slapped in the face by the Universe with not one, but two reminders to take my own damn advice.

Reminder #1:  If It Feels Awkward, It's Because It Is

Friendships shouldn't feel awkward.  If you continually feel awkward around a person or get a "weird vibe" from them, a second glance should be taken at said friendship.  Sometimes it can be hard because you'll tell yourself it's just in your imagination or even "Well, maybe s/he is just an awkward person."  Listen to your gut.  Even if the latter is true, you will eventually find a rhythm with that friend, and things won't be awkward.

Unless they are.

In which case, look for the patterns.  Dammit, Leonard, you're an analyst by trade!  You should have seen this sooner.  But just like in my day job, sometimes it's hard to see the larger patterns at work when you're up close and personal with the data.  Ya gotta back up a bit.

Patterns in no particular order include:  walking on eggshells for fear of upsetting said person, the giving of unwanted gifts, randomly showing up to a person's appointments and things (unannounced), continually having to defend said friendship as not being inappropriate or "that way."

There's wearing your heart on your sleeve, and then there's obsession with people.  And each obsession follows the same steps and same patterns above, lather rinse repeat.  There's having a friend with whom you can talk and discuss things, and then there's using a person as your personal (verbal) punching bag.  It took me five fucking years to realize this particular pattern and lesson, despite the awkwardness and despite my gut.

Reminder #2:  If It Sounds Fishy, It Probably Is

Caution should be taken when entering into business arrangements of any kind -- even businesses with friends and acquaintances, even business ventures that don't require any money from you.  I've realized that I tend to take most things at face value until proven otherwise.  But when you keep asking for data, for answers, for things to be accomplished, for months at a time, and it's a continual delay and/or lip service, Leonard is out.  I wouldn't put up with that during my day job or any of my other business dealings, why would I take it from an acquaintance?

And that's just it -- an acquaintance.  I had to step back and realize "I've only known said individual for X number of months."  Friends, those I've known for years, are deserving of some faith, some "benefit of the doubt"; they've earned some good will and a little free work (my time).  But even after that time has passed, I would expect results from them.

People who I have known for less than a year, I need to start asking for proof up front.  And sometimes when starting a project from the ground up, that "proof" won't be there.  And that's okay; that just means that I'm not meant to be part of the "ground-up" team.  Call me when you have data, answers, contact information, receipts, a functional website.

And again, look for the patterns:  continual removing and/or replacing of people.  The same or similar answers in response to "Where is this thing?"  Walking on eggshells, uneven temperament, extreme reactions to nearly everything.  None of those are ideal characteristics when trying to run a business, a foundation, or start a program from the ground up.

And frankly no one project is worth my feeling sick to my stomach every time I check my e-mail, wondering what fiasco, drama, or temper tantrum is awaiting.

Conclusion:

Some of this is on me.  I don't consider myself a gullible person (but what gullible person does?).  I'm a cynic, a skeptic, and an irritatingly rational person well-versed in the art of rhetoric.  I need that healthy dose of skepticism at the start of a project (or friendship), not later, when I'm waiting to be proved wrong.  A little less good will and a lot more "please provide your references."  I need to speak up louder when I begin questioning things and when I disagree and to not feel bad about doing so.

And, as always, I need to listen to my gut.  It hasn't been wrong yet.

Comic by The Awkward Yeti

Let's Talk Stalking

January 2016 is National Stalking Awareness month, and naturally, Leonard has something to say about that.  But first, a story.

Once upon a time Princess Leonard Leonora was cast in a show playing an actual princess.  The show came at a very difficult time; Leonora was in the midst of a very public, very messy divorce.  Leonora's ex had also been cast in the show; at the time of casting, they were still married.  Leonora's soon-to-be-ex-husband quickly dropped the show before rehearsals started, during the divorce process.  Leonora couldn't understand why.  Their characters barely had any stage time together, and when they did, they hated each other; where's the acting part?

The night immediately after said soon-to-be-ex-husband dropped the show due to impending divorce, I got a call (while performing elsewhere).  The caller was from one of my future cast mates suggesting we get coffee or lunch together sometime soon, since we would be working together.  It was at this time that my "silent alarm" went off, for a couple of reasons.

1. People using the cast contact list for non-work-related reasons should be treated with suspicion.  One must have a very good reason to use a work distribution list to contact a near-stranger for something personal.
2. For whatever reason, this man, this cast mate, gave me that knot in my stomach.  My inner alarm said, "DANGER WILL ROBINSON!"  And I should have listened.  But I didn't.

As I've written before, we (especially women) are too often taught to "give people the benefit of the doubt," even despite our gut reactions.  This man never once said the word "date," which was good because I had no intention of dating him, ever.  It's just a friendly coffee between friends, right?  Except we weren't friends.  I barely knew him.  It's possible that we could become friends during the rehearsal process, but we hadn't started rehearsing yet.  So against my better judgment I agreed to a coffee meet.

We had coffee on an afternoon, and it was weird.  I still had that silent alarm going in my head and gut, but I did my "due diligence."  I gave him the benefit of the doubt.  I had coffee; I was polite.  And I had no intention of ever doing more than that, besides doing a show together.

Now it's been some time since these events occurred, so you'll have to excuse me if they get out of order.

We started the rehearsal process, and this man kept paying me undue (unwanted) attention, but not always the positive kind.  One night during rehearsal he called a stop to the scene just as I was opening my mouth to say my line -- more than ten times in a row, at the exact same time every time, breaking character.  (Typically actors only stop when the director asks them to stop [or "hold"], and he was most definitely not the director.)

Before we broke for Thanksgiving, he brought me "gifts":  a sparkly glitter tiara that said "BITCH" on it and a copy of the book Even Cowgirls Get the Blues with the "instructions" that I should read it during our holiday break from rehearsal.

Once, he asked me if I could be backstage when he got done with a scene to help him "calm down" like "Alice would to Henry" (our characters' names).  I actually started to laugh out loud because I thought he was joking.  I, of course, said no; I was on the other side of the stage getting ready for the next scene (not to mention the outrageous creepiness of the request).

One night he claimed that the train of my dress was ruining the scene because it was in his way.  I offered to try to move it a bit out of the way, but we had a small 4x4 platform we were on; act around it.

During the rehearsal process, he started a thread on a local theatre discussion board about on-stage kissing, and then he forwarded to my e-mail all of the responses, first saying he was "just trying to give some advice."  When I asked him to please stop emailing me, he claimed (repeatedly) that I was "ruining the scene" (where we had to awkwardly kiss; the kiss was supposed to be awkward and brief).

One night at rehearsal he screamed at me from across a staircase (during a break):  "I'm just trying to discuss what's going on between us!"
To which I yelled back, flabbergasted, "There is NOTHING between us except air!"
"I'm just trying to be your friend!" he yelled.
"I'm friends with the rest of the cast, they don't feel the need to talk about it!" I said.

And that night he called my phone.  All of my phones.  My home phone, my cell phone, leaving a message on one, then calling the other when I wouldn't pick up, nearly non-stop for over an hour.

At some point during this, yes, I should have spoken up; I should have talked to our director.  But I didn't want to rock the boat.  I wanted a good show.  I didn't want to be accused of being a "diva," of being "hard to work with" (Princess Leonora no longer gives a shit about those things, especially when personal safety is on the line).  And I thought I could "handle it"; I thought he'd just go away.

Then a friend of mine lent me a book of his, Obsession:  The FBI's Legendary Profiler Probes the Psyches of Killers, Rapists, and Stalkers, and Their Victims and Tells How to Fight Back.  
I still get chills when I realize/remember that a book outlined, step by step, what was happening to me right then and there.  Here are some key points:

• The giving of unwanted gifts is literally a textbook sign of stalking
• Assuming there is a relationship where none exists is also a sign
• Explosive, unpredictable behavior (what the rest of us might call "mood swings")

The final straw was during a performance, in the dressing room, when he called me a "cunt" in front of the rest of the cast because -- frankly, I don't remember why.  I don't think it matters why.  The man had problems "acting around" my dress; it's not like he was a stable entity.  The director called my home repeatedly that night to make sure I was okay; she was very worried when she couldn't reach me (I was actually sleeping elsewhere that night).  She told me to just try to avoid him as much as possible (which I was); the run was almost over.  But not before he also contacted my ex-husband via e-mail to complain about what a bitch I was.

My soon-to-be-ex-husband had to call me up to ask if this was true?  Was I being a bitch?  Was I saying horrible things about him (the ex-husband) in front of the cast?

My response:  "We're going through a divorce.  Of course, I'm saying mean things about you.  Who wouldn't?"  Then I proceeded to detail all of the shit this man had done and said over the course of the past couple of months, ending with "this probably wouldn't have happened if you had not dropped the show.  I doubt he would have done it in front of you."

An immature response?  Absolutely.  I'm not going to defend that choice, especially as it's not the point here.

The point is:  I should have listened to my gut.  I should have spoken up at any point during the above actions.  If you feel uncomfortable around a person, it shouldn't have to take them calling you a "cunt" for people (including yourself) to realize something is wrong.  Stalkers are real.  Stalkers exist. Stalking is considered a crime in all 50 states. It is a very big deal when someone does not respect the boundaries you have set.  And it is a very big deal when someone exhibits just one or two of the behaviors list above, let alone all three.

If you feel uncomfortable around a person, if they are beginning to exhibit stalking behaviors, please follow these steps:

• Listen to your gut.
• Document everything.  
• Set firm boundaries with the person.
• It's very possible a person you are required to interact with does not realize they overstepped a boundary.  It's still okay to set boundaries and to let them know they have overstepped them.  That does not make you a bad person, a bitch, a tease, or a cunt.
• You have not overreacted.  It is a big deal, and if you don't speak up about your boundaries, no one will.
• Speak up to the person(s) in charge, louder and louder until someone listens.
• Go up the "food chain" if necessary.
• Even if you are not asking for repercussions for this individual, people need to be aware of what has happened.
• Remember:  it is not your decision whether or not the behavior is stalking.  You don't have to have the pressure to make that judgment call; that is the job of a law enforcement official.  It is your decision to realize that something is not right, that someone is overstepping your personal boundaries -- physical, emotional, or otherwise -- and to speak up about it.
• Everyone has the right to feel safe at their place of employment, in their homes, and frankly, in everyday life.

Leonard has more stalker stories, but the above is one of the worst.  I also have another story from a former colleague, but it is not my story to tell.  I can tell you that the part that made me livid was when our mutual supervisor (also a woman) basically told my friend to "not worry about it," that it "wasn't a big deal," to basically "just ignore it."

Fuck that shit.

Should someone tell you that, feel free to tell them that Leonard said "Fuck that shit!" I will happily send them a Strongly Worded Letter about it.