The Difficulty With Dating Apps

My Difficulty With Dating Apps….

The last time I used a dating app was at the very beginning of January. As usual, it was quickly deleted once I had recovered from whatever hungover loneliness had driven me to think that it was a good idea. Pushed over the edge by the man who wanted to know what we were before we had ever even met. Once again, I promised myself I was finished. I do not belong here.

I am committed to my decision, despite the boredom and lack of attention.

The thought of someone to drink wine and eat pizza with at the weekends is very appealing right now; simultaneously, I have never looked worse naked.

Being alone for a year has given me plenty of time to reflect on all of my romantic fuck ups so far and on what I want next. I have decided on two simple things:

I want to date.

I want to avoid dating apps.

From the age of 14 - 24, I was always in a relationship. Always - I loved it; it came naturally. I didn’t like being alone, and I rarely had to worry about that. An older boy I was suitably obsessed with would always appear. No dating apps, no dramas. Just a few 10p texts and a lot of cinema trips. All I wanted was to find the right boy and stay with them forever, collecting adventures. Just one fantastic person to grow up with. All I ended up with was three lengthy relationships behind me before I’d even turned 17.

When I was 18, I was dragged to a house party I couldn't be bothered going to and walked out with a long term boyfriend. It was one of those rare eye contact moments, I am not sure I believe in love at first sight, but I would say this was as close as it gets. We spent most of the night smoking cigarettes out of a window together. I went round to his flat for dinner shortly afterwards and accidentally never left.

I still have a copy of the email I sent when I moved out…

‘There are things I want to do that I couldn’t do if I was with you from now until forever, like travel and live alone. I don't know who I am or who I want to be; the only thing I know for certain is I want to live alone for a while in my own home somewhere I feel completely comfortable.’

Looking back, that email was as much about escaping him as finding myself. I think it took another year or two for us to break up completely. We wanted different things. There was talk of weddings before my brain had fully developed. During a fight, he told me I wouldn’t survive the world alone - that there were much worse men out there than him. Life was hard; the world was tough. I was too needy; dating was terrible. I had no concept of reality.

I did not believe him, but I knew that even if he was right, I needed to learn that for myself. I expected to breeze through my 20s—career goals and sunsets. Every boyfriend would be better than the last one. Credit where credit is due - he was correct. My 20s turned out to be a fucking nightmare. Much worse than even he’d imagined. But I was right as well...it’s all been worth it for the friendships, the sunsets and the fact that I can look after myself well. I'm pretty sure that I am unbreakable. Impracticable but indestructible.

I cannot articulate precisely why I wanted to be alone so much, to force myself into such an uncomfortable life—there were times when I was utterly lost. I could be married now, in a lovely house with a fridge that works, but I just wasn’t ready. I had this overwhelming sense, that I needed my life to be my own - to live it on my own terms. That I didn’t want to drown in everyone else expectations of me. Most of all, that I wasn’t me yet. I lived with one other person before I finally found my feet.

I did exactly what I said I would in that email. I forced myself to. I travelled alone; I lived alone - I walked away from anyone who disrespected me, and it worked. I spent the years that all of my friends spent looking for love - avoiding it. I broke a heart by accident. I grew up too fast. I spent my mid 20’s trying to go to parties and nightclubs and try dating apps, but I felt a thousand years older than everyone else around me. I cried myself to sleep - scared that I was unlovable and that I had made a mess of things forever.

At times I cried when I got home from nights out and no one was there, not crying over anyone in particular, just because I was lonely and I didn’t like it. I stayed out all night so that I didn’t have to go home and be alone.

When I was 23, I remember sitting at the back of a tiny boat, dying sea sick - having the utterly worst time of my life. I had gone on an excursion alone, hoping to meet friends but it was all couples and no one acknowledged my existence. I was too shy to attempt to talk to anyone. We had cliff dived, which to this day is the most traumatic moment of my life, and it had taken me so long to build up the courage to jump that the boat had floated away and everyone was yelling at me. I had to doggy paddle about half a mile to it, shaking, gulping back tears and salt water. When I hauled myself back on board, all I got was evil glances for interrupting everyone’s day. So there I was tragic, traumatised and trying not to vomit. I remember feeling violently afraid. I thought I could slip off the back of this boat, into the sea and never be seen again. No one knows where I am, no one would notice - I would be weeks before anyone realised I was gone. It was the best moment of my life so far - I thought - shit, i’ve done it. I am independent.

When I tried to date again, I found dating people my own age difficult. I realised that most men would be better to date after a divorce or a near-death experience. I went on loads of dates without even realising I didn’t want to be with anyone.

I have friends who tactically picked boyfriends that they could ‘mould’, house train if you will. ’project’ boyfriends. I couldn’t think of anything worse. I have thrown one top gear alarm clock out of a window and that's plenty. Hats off to them. They picked some terrible boys and made great men out of them, they have excellent relationships, and that’s a beautiful thing that I envy. They have the history that I always wanted.

It has taken me almost a decade to admit to myself that I like having a boyfriend, I need a certain amount of attention and direction - I am a better person who is more settled and successful at life when there is a man around’s fine. I am also happy alone, so there is no hurry. I will probably end up with someone older than me with more life experience, and that’s also fine, just difficult to find. I am a feminist, but I am a bad one. I need a practical man who can boss me around a bit. Keep up with me, but keep me grounded.

I really did want to spend my 30s with someone. I’d be ridiculous within my 20’s, but I’m almost 31, and the extent of my current love life is fancying one person I have met once.

I just assumed that at some point, I would meet someone and it would just work. For countless reasons it’s only now that I am ready to take dating seriously and my only options appear to be...apps.

I want to go on dates again, not the type of dates that involve swiping. The kind where you have a funny conversation with someone and they ask for your phone number… The type you get excited about. The kind of date I am scared of doesn't exist anymore.

Online my only option though isn’t it? Even if we weren’t in lockdown… how often do you hear of couples just meeting? I gave a man my phone number in a pub about four years ago and he called me ‘old fashioned’. I would probably be sectioned if I did that now.

I read an article yesterday and learned that a considerable amount of men and women are organising their love lives on spreadsheets. Various spreadsheets for all sorts of reasons. The main reason being that they are going on so many dates with people they have met online that they can’t keep track of...

Some people go on so many dates they just record the details and give them a score, so they don’t forget. Some rate sex. Fuck, I hope that I never end up on anyone sex spreadsheet.

‘ Excellent at blow jobs but fell off the bed twice’ in the comments section.

Maybe I'm just old fashioned, but it takes meeting someone a few times to be interested no matter how much I fancy them. How can they be giving anyone a chance?

A friend just told me he’s started seeing someone, and he thinks it’s going so well because he isn’t dating multiple other people. No shit. Even if you just want to have a successful fling with someone, you have to pay attention to them.

How can you take anyone seriously when you are talking to endless amounts of other attractive people? This plays into my deepest fears about dating apps. Will anyone ever love me again when realistically, they can be having sex with someone younger, hotter, tidier around the house and less annoying, with a few clicks of a button?

Then there are the weirdos.

My cousin has just told me that her recent tinder match graduated to whatsapp messenger before quickly asking for a picture. I cannot believe I am typing this… her arsehole. If that happened to me, I would put my phone straight into the toaster. Burn it to a crisp and never look back.

In terms of modern dating, I am very tame. There’s a little voice in my head that whispers, ‘go to an orgy before you settle down… At least try and have a threesome. I never could, though. I asked strangers to stay two metres away from me long before the pandemic. I wouldn’t survive a sex party. I don’t particularly appreciate seeing people I don’t know eat dinner at close range.

There’s always a chance that the person you are dating, or in love with, will meet someone else - that's life. But dating someone, knowing that they are actively trying to date other people, makes me feel a little bit uneasy. Dating online makes me judge myself in a way that I never did before, usually content in my (many, many) flaws.

Sex comparison aside, the spreadsheet daters organise in charts and graphs that can be used helpfully. It helps them identify and then stop their toxic patterns and behaviours. Ironic given that involving a spreadsheet in their sex life is one of them.

With the help of my friend and the lockdown group chats, I have identified my toxic patterns. For the record. After I admitted that sometimes I date people I find quite dark and exciting and once referred to a man as ‘ good documentary material’, these conversations were forced upon me. So here’s my bad habit:

1) I don’t date for months on end because I can’t be bothered

2) I casually date someone for fun.

3) I pretend that I am ready for a boyfriend then subconsciously but intentionally pick someone terrible for me, therefore avoiding commitment. When it inevitably goes wrong, I retreat to the safety of 1 and then repeat. The other person is always the guilty party. I always knew they would be - I remain guilt-free.

I will not repeat it, I think, because I am open to meeting some now—the right kind of weirdo.

Whenever I was in between phases 1 and 2, dating apps became appealing. I romanticise going on multiple fun dates and having a lovely after-work social life that involves bowling and dinners and interesting people. No one in imaginary, romantic dating land would ever ask anyone for a picture of their arsehole.

In reality, it’s just not fun for me. Sometimes you find someone suitable to chat to. Most of the time, you try to work out who has what intentions and replying to messages before bed like its admin. Occasionally you end up with a totally pointless midweek hangover, or you have to sit through a dinner with someone you quite like who's clearly heartbroken, and it’s all just a bit sad with some unnecessary calories.

I love funny stories, and bad-date anecdotes are funny. I've already got a couple, though, I don't need anymore.

I hate small talk. It doesn’t come naturally, and it has never been worth the effort. Never have I, and never will I care about what anyone had for lunch. In a world where everyone is trying to be perfect, I'd rather know the worst thing you've ever done.

Someone I know, consider a friend and have been on a few dates with posted on Twitter that dating now was brilliant, so easy! All you had to do to get a girls attention was ‘like’ photos and send flame emojis to their stories... As a single adult, a woman, have I been reduced to the status of a Tamagotchi? Connections kept alive by the few clicks of a button, left alone to die if a man isn’t online for a few days? It scared me so much that I will now flat out ignore any man who sends a flame emoji, which is in itself a shame - It’s probably harmless; I’m sure they don’t know what they are doing either in this modern dating disaster land.

I like a flame emoji as much as the next person. I hadn’t thought much of it until this status. It got to me that we have discussed dating, he had been trying to convince me that we would be good together and I had finally agreed.. What I once thought was him being nice to me now felt seedy. He knew I would see the update, and I felt like a total fool. Embarrassed, scammed.

I like a flame emoji as much as the next person, but I also like dating adults. People need to re-learn how to pick up the phone and ask how someone's day was, and invite them to dinner.

Disasters aside, I don’t like online because I very much believe in vibes at first sight. There are men I know who are interested, they would probably be a good boyfriend - but when I am around them, I feel bored. I’m bored of people telling me to push through, to try harder for that 'nice' life with someone you can trust. That makes no sense to me.

My dating approach has always been about the spark; it’s hard to find, there’s no reason for it, it’s there, or it’s not. I like my life to just happen. Unfold naturally. The whole world can disappear after a conversation with the right person. Your whole life can change if you meet them at a good time. I just don't believe I can find that with my phone, that stupid little computer that's permanantly attached to me now.

The spark is special to me, it’s always worthwhile. Even If it doesn’t work out, it's perfect. You meet a man at a house party, and you live together for three years. You fancy someone at school - your friends 15 years later. You bump into a man on the train and date for three months. He turned out to be a horrible person, but the sex was great, and you get a fun holiday out of it. You move on, thankful you never ended up married to him. You promise yourself that you will be more careful next time. I don’t get that with online dates. I am left feeling regretful and empty.

The spark used to be easy until everything moved online into filters, forced photography, and endless choice. Love doesn’t come from carefully curated Instagram pictures; we can use all the filters we want to look hot and breathe in to look thinner, but I promise you that none of it works.

I briefly dated a ‘hot’ man I met on Bumble, a ‘musician/model’ who sent me photos of himself covered in baby oil, abs everywhere. More abs than I realised one person could have. It didn’t make me love him or even fancy him any more; it made me cringe. I would spend over half an hour trying to work out what to reply before a simple ‘that’s lovely. See you next week’.

I guess he was the type of guy that girls are supposed to lust over, and men wonder if they are supposed to be. In reality, no one’s cares. We had fun in person, but the rest of it was all incredibly forced. No spark.

I was with my whole family, drinking prosecco one morning after a party when he sent many photos. Someone noticed over my shoulder, and the next minute they were just being passed around the room. It was hilarious, but I felt a little sad, my cousin and her husband were about to travel the world together while my aunts were forced to look at a picture of a greasy man in his pants (pants, not boxers). Everyone assumed I was having some sort of intense fling or exciting single life - I wasn’t. I never saw him again.

This valentines day, he and his girlfriend posted a staged picture, taken by a photographer with tags like ‘fitness couple’, ‘happy’ and ‘luxury’ - I am sorry, but what happened to getting day drunk and having sex in the kitchen? I hope they are truly happy. Everyone is different, but I personally can’t imagine a relationship that involves a photographer remembering to use hashtags, actually being fun…

All I got this valentine's day was two years to a late apology text from a narcissist. He’s not even sorry - he’s just hoping I am at home alone, feeling sorry for myself.

Thankfully I wasntt - I feel good. After a year at home alone, thinking. I know that I am really open to being in a relationship for the first time in a long time. I am glad that I have lived alone. I'm delighted that I don't need anyone, but I want someone. Only the right kind of someone.

In my head, I sometimes still picture dating apps as friendly conversations, handsome faces - dinner, drinks see what happens, and no expectations. Then, I remember that, I have tried, I failed - I HATE THEM.

We are in the middle of a loneliness pandemic; it’s like the more connected we become - the less we can connect, hiding behind screens and shying away from real conversation. Spoiled for choice, unable to choose, scared to trust - we are becoming a little bit lost.

There is hope, though. In my recent Instagram poll, I learned that many people I know are in love with someone they met online… I am probably the problem.

I have the self-confidence of someone who knows they are ok because I have never been dumped, and I am to this day asked for second chances. Even the man who didn't want to date me because I was too free spirited' gets caught watching my Instagram stories in the middle of the night even though he has unfollowed me years ago. I choose to take that as a compliment even though I might be car crash TV.

I miss the magic of the early stages of something that actually might work and I am holding out hope

So What Will I Do?

Who knows, I have been in love, I’ve had my heart broken, I’ve broken a heart, and most importantly, I have learned how to be alone.

Maybe I am naive to believe that I will find what I need without looking but I’m not in a rush.

I guess I’ll just see what happens when my trousers fit and the world is open.