You’re in a relationship for a long long time. You end it and vow to never date again. 2 years later you change your mind. Now what? There was a time not long ago that every guy I saw grossed me out. These were the after effects of a traumatic and abusive relationship in which my self worth was diminished and ability to trust anyone ever again nearly demolished. Well...apparently my libido has come out of hibernation and I’m suddenly objectifying almost every man I see... in my mind of course not in an outward disrespectful way. I live a fairly isolated life in a suburban community, working from home and spending most of my time with my family, rather than mixing and mingling with other singles. After all why would I position myself to mix and mingle when I was all but dead inside? Out of curiosity and lack of other options I hit up the App Store and downloaded all the swipeable things. Let the adventure begin.All swipes were to the left in the beginning. My stomach turned at the idea of this digital connection which could lead to an actual face to face meeting, loss of a kidney to the black market, or worse - me actually opening up to a man. I came across people whose bio told stories of longing for true love and wondered if I was on the right app. Swipe left. I wasn’t looking for true love. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. Other bios were of married men looking for a third player in the bedroom. Swipe left. Another person chose the username of “WantYourJuicesOnMyFace”. There is no swipe for what I’m thinking, so - DELETE APP!!!!! I was petrified at the audacity and disrespect. Repulsed by the idea that a perfect stranger would represent himself this way. Then it dawned on me. We were all strangers. Just human beings wanting to make one type of connection or another. Some just want to bang another stranger. Some want a person to talk about their day with. Others want a partner in crime. You have to hand it to mister “WantYourJuices” for giving an authentic representation of what he was looking for. Shock and awe aside it was an eye opening experience. The anonymity and veil provided by online dating allows people to represent themselves how they want to appear, not necessarily who they are. Although I’m carefully choosing photos that depict my flaws as I see them and a fairly self deprecating profile, I need to accept I can’t expect the same from others. I needed this break from swiping to re-evaluate whether or not this is the route I want to take.
It took a little time before I got the itch to swipe again. I’m pretty sure I was in bed late one night watching Netflix after too many glasses of wine (possibly a bottle) when I returned to the App Store for my next fix. There it was in the “cloud” reminding me a little of our last encounter. It felt a little tainted and damaged but yet so was I - and wiser as well. So let’s do this! Right off the bat I had an innate desire to swipe left, to think the worst. But I had taken a vow to myself. To be open. To be authentic and accept opportunities for whatever. Work, Love, friends... be open.
I swiped right a few times just for the hell of it. Good looking? Swipe right. Successful? Swipe right. Likes to have fun? Swipe right? Single dad? Swipe right. I save the left swipes for the creepers, people who can’t spell, and bathroom selfies. Before I knew it I was engaged in a series of random text chats with my swipes. Nauseating. Dirty. Exciting. Awkward. I’m being interviewed and interviewing strangers I’m not even sure I want to work with. In keeping with the vow I’ve made to step outside my comfort zone and be (cautiously) unafraid , I carry on a couple of conversations. Small talk is not my friend. I struggle not to rattle off all the things I don’t want in a lover. No abusers, no deadbeats, no smokers, please be cute and not overweight and not a narcissist. This guy doesn’t want to hear about my wounded heart right? It’s as much superficial as it is deeply personal. Part of my journey pieced together with the help of this perfect stranger. He wants to meet. I’m not sure. I’m busy, I tell him. So very busy being a single mom and career woman and I just don’t have much time for this. It’s ok - he comforts me - even though I don’t want to meet him it’s difficult for me to say “no” to people. It’s as though he can tell.
I am on the way to get my hair done one afternoon when I’m thinking about this experiment. I’m 40 and brunette so my gray roots are in their glory sparkling in the Florida sun. I decide - why the hell not - and I text the tinder man. “I’m on my way to a hair appointment and have a few minutes if you want to meet up,” I texted him. I had a very small window of time open and figured there was no way he would be free. I told him where I would be, grabbing a bite to eat, and he was welcome to join me. Very small window. I hoped my experiment would end here. It would seem desperate if he showed, right? Then the notification appeared informing me that he was on his way, lived nearby. I couldn’t appear more that I’d given up on my appearance than I did right now. I sat on the patio eating oysters- no makeup on in faded black leggings, an oversized jersey knit top, and my undone hair on top of my head when he approached. I stood and greeted him. I hugged him, not knowing why I was. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It’s not a handshake kind of moment? There was no physical attraction which was a relief. It kept my thoughts steady until I began to feel badly. This was a nice enough man, clearly eager to meet someone, we had a few common interests... and here I was using him as practice. My interaction with him was purely about me and my process and had nothing to do with him or his feelings. Though it sounds selfish it was a huge personal success - I was always a martyr when it came to men. But I had no time to celebrate because I had to figure my way out of this. It’s a small town. I will surely see this man again. I head to my hair appointment and tell my stylist about the interaction. She laughs. Poor man, object of laughter. I’m sorry. I ghosted him for a bit and then responded to a later message explaining that I was not ready to date. Was that the truth? I felt too badly to say “I’m just not that into you.” From this experience I tried a few more times.
It was a rollercoaster of swiping and chatting and meeting - while trying to sound and look like I am making zero effort to impress them. The whole thing was actually more exhausting than making a normal effort but nonetheless good practice for whenever and whatever might come in the future. Now my swiping sessions aren’t only fueled by wine during late nights in bed. I laugh at myself when I’m standing in line somewhere and swipe to pass the time. When I’m “secretly” chatting with a stranger talking about details of our lives and days as I occupy the middle seat on my flight, I blush a little.
Nothing about it feels natural, but if you’re looking to connect with someone or just practice being yourself after years off the market, it’s an interesting tool - don’t overthink it. Happy swiping!