Okay, Dating. You Win. I Quit.
I swiped left on swiping left
Dating has been a hard row to hoe for me. If I didn’t have writing as a means of processing it, I think I would have lost my mind about now. There is joy left in it for me. And let’s be honest. I absolutely suck at dating. Bad.
When I was in fourth grade, I wanted to play the flute. The flute is just an adorable little instrument, isn’t it? I was not exactly a cute child so I was going to take “cute” anywhere I could get it. Turns out, I was a horrible flute player. Not only was I bad at it, I didn’t even like it. So I quit.
I’m quitting dating so I don’t walk around feeling like a fourth grade flute player.
I deleted the two dating apps I was using in an absolute huff on Friday night. It was just one more shitty message from some guy that made me throw my hands up in the air. You may remember me writing about the three stages of post-divorce dating. I have backslid from joy to depression. I know longer even remotely enjoy dating. It took me seven weeks to get to this point and for dating apps to make me slightly crazy.
There are things in my life that I may be bad at but I keep plugging away. I am a horrible violin player but, my God, is playing that violin about the most fun thing I can think of to do! I don’t care if I sound like a dying cat. I’m gonna play the shit out of that instrument with a smile on my face. Dating, however, makes me feel like an actual dying cat.
There is also a big difference between being ambivalent about something and down right disliking it.
I found myself sitting on my living room floor on Friday, swiping through profiles and literally feeling disdain for men I had never and will never meet.
Their mere existence seemed to annoy me. I was rolling my eyes and probably passing on perfectly suitable guys because I had found myself in just that bad of a mood over the whole experience.
I equate this feeling as the exact opposite of going to the grocery store when you’re hungry. You know this feeling. You’ve done it. It’s how you end up with six bags of pretzel chips in your pantry. Go to the grocery store after gorging yourself at a Chinese Buffet and every item you looks at seems completely unappetizing.
This feeling, my friends, is a sign that you should not attempt to couple up with anyone. Danger, Will Robinson.
I also felt like a couch in a catalog. The idea of men swiping through profiles and judging me in 2.1 seconds makes my teeth itch. Notably, I know I do not translate well on paper. It’s ironic that, as practiced of a writer as I am, I can’t seem to convey my entire self in 250 characters. Go figure.
I don’t want to be that accessible to men anymore. I put myself out there and might as well have slapped a huge sign on me that said, “Here I am, dudes! Feel free to spam up my inbox with lame or creepy messages!”
It doesn’t matter how hard to get you play when you’re on a dating app. The reality is that you’re easy to get.
I’m not going to be your catalog couch anymore. I’m taking myself off display. I’m going to ride this train solo for as long as I can. I’m not sure how long that will last because I do get very lonely. At this point though, I feel my time would be better spend trying to adapt to lonely vs. seeking to eliminate it. Of course, I say all of this knowing that the spider web of insanity is just one quick download away from being back on my phone…