A reckoning with singledom - part 3

In which she dives into online dating...

Photo by Ron Macdonald

I had strongly resisted dating apps, but as an introverted homebody, the chances of me meeting someone organically, eyes-meeting-across-a-crowded-room-style, were nonexistent.

I loaded up on courage, created my profile and waded in.

Then I swiped left, then left again and again and again. So much left swiping I feared I may get repetitive strain injury. Why do all men on dating apps have full sleeve tattoos? And wear fedoras? And have at least one picture at Macchu Picchu? Every picture seemed like Groundhog Day. I’d give each profile a cursory glance because even if I wasn’t initially attracted to the picture, perhaps there’d be something listed under his interests that would indicate he has some sort of personality. But alas, no. All men are apparently looking for women who “don’t take life too seriously,” whatever that means.

Occasionally I’d swipe right, not because I was particularly bowled over by the profile, but because in a sea of left swipes, finally I’d come across a picture that would make me shrug my shoulders and say ‘meh, I guess.’ - the way all the great relationships of our time have started, I’m sure.

When I got a match, my mind would be blown by groundbreaking conversation openers like ‘hey!’

That’s what eventually wears you down about dating apps - the endless, exact same conversation you have with any match you make. They will all ask you the same thing and you can just copy and paste your answers. And while you think you’re speaking to men who are over 34, they all want to endlessly text like 15 year old gossipy school girls. To actually reach the point where you arrange to go on a physical date would be remarkable and very rare. Most matches just fizzled out in a haze of boredom, frustration and lack of interest.

I read somewhere that men and women use these apps differently. Women carefully consider each profile, but for men, it’s a numbers game. They just swipe right on everyone and wait to see who they match with. They’re always awaiting a better option.

It was glaringly obvious I would not be finding love in this hopeless place. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t use it for practice. I decided I would use the experience to level up my dating and flirting skills. I’d closed myself off to romantic matters of any kind for so long that I really didn’t know how to go about any of it anymore. So, if I made a match and we had even a glimmer of free flowing conversation, I’d go on the date.

I’d sit, listen, playfully toss my hair over my shoulder, laugh, be funny, be insightful, gently guide the chat this way and that. Occasionally I’d even go on a second date. But never because I felt any of them could go further - I was doing this strictly for research and learning purposes.

Around this time, I’d also developed a deep love for salsa dancing. I was taking classes and hitting salsa clubs a couple of times a week. I had to fight my introvert nature and get out there. I love to dance and the bonus of learning a partnered style of dancing was that it only aided in my research and learning. On the dance floor, I could hone my flirtation skills. I could flick my hair, sway my hips and finally allow myself to rediscover what being sexy felt like.

One of the unspoken elements of singledom is the lack of touch. Not even necessarily sexually, just the intimacy and connection of human touch and closeness. With salsa dancing, I was getting that. It was reminding me yes, of my sexuality but also, of my humanness. The lack of romantic love in my life was less painful while I was twirling on a dance floor, feeling someone’s hand guide my hips or lower me in a back bend.

Something had reignited in me.

But the final frontier, being vulnerable enough to lower my guard and admit, even to myself, what I really, truly wanted, was still utterly terrifying.

I knew though, that to move forward, I had to take that leap.

To be continued….

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Hola, you beauties!

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