Oh The Profiles You See

I think I’ve pretty much tried all the dating apps now. I’ll try one, get freaked out, then promptly delete my profile. Try another one, get freaked out, delete my profile, then go back to a previous one and put up a new profile with slightly different language. Maybe I’m not being specific enough in my advertisement to date me. Maybe that’s the problem? Maybe if I use clearer words, that I’m looking for a real connection, someone to date long term that will eventually be monogamous. I know these are antiquated notions, but I’m sort of antiquated anyway. I mean, my playlist is mostly Chet Baker and Ella Fitzgerald.

I’m trying to be honest here. 

I did everything I could to avoid Tinder, because Tinder. It just feels yucky to me. I’m not looking to hook up. I don’t even understand what hooking up is, but I know it sounds painful. To be Hooked. Up. Ouch. 

Tinder is sort of like the dating version of Facebook (and there is an actual dating version of Facebook). If you want to interact, you have to go where everyone is signed up. Everyone is on Facebook and, apparently, everyone is on Tinder.

Here is how unprepared I am for this experience:

I received over 100 hearts or whatever from men on Tinder ranging in ages from 21 (ew! No!) to 66. (On other sites, I received a handful.) I’m sure most of them didn’t read my profile at all, but maybe they liked my smile or my eyes or that I looked like I was still breathing and mostly alive.

 One of my favorite profiles was a burly man whose entire profile said CLAM EATER. I stared at that for a while, trying to figure it out. Boy, I thought, you must like clams a whole lot if that’s your whole profile. There aren’t a lot of clams in Michigan that I know of, so how does he get them? Does he fly them in? Do they arrive frozen? How does he like them prepared? Are they good with butter? 

And as I was thinking is, there was a slow blossoming of meaning in my mind. HE WAS NOT TALKING ABOUT MOLLUSKS. 

!!!!

I deleted that profile, although I’m not against a man who enjoys eating clams. I just think if that’s the ONLY thing you do, that it would get pretty monotonous. How would I get any work done, if he was there all the time, just…

You know. 

I met one man for a walk who was Spanish and tall and said he loved the outdoors. He was also about fifteen years older than his pictures. Maybe they were pictures of his son. And it wasn’t that he was older that I had an issue with, it’s that he wasn’t truthful. He also began his conversation with me saying he hated the cold and Michigan and could we just go sit in his car instead and his back was hurting and did we really have to walk?

It was a quick meeting. I actually turned around and ran. I ran so fast that flames burst from the snowy ground. 

I get weird messages that say GM or HAU? I eventually translate these obscure messages: Goo’day Mate, Happy As a Unicorn. But they still don’t make sense to me. 

I’ve talked to a couple of interesting men, but no one really knows what to do. There are so many lonelyhearts out there. Everyone’s sort of like a bumper car, just bumping against other cars, getting a little whiplash, and then laughing awkwardly. Sorry about that! Ha! That was a good one! Almost took you out that time.

I wish someone would take me out. I just want to go to a restaurant and have a drink with someone. I’ll have a martini. We’ll have appetizers. I want to go out with someone I’ve met him in real life, not an app, maybe I know him in some way, and the timing wasn’t right then, but maybe it’s right now, or maybe it’s right FOR now, so we can both just feel safe in this weird world getting to know each other in a new way. 

The problem is, I don’t really know anyone. And the anyones I do know don’t live in Michigan.

I worry about my appearance and that nagging feeling I carry around of not being enough, especially after meeting that man I had such chemistry with who I was not enough for. 

This is exhausting.

I wish I had more encouraging things to say.

 Actually, I have one. I chatted with a man and said to him: “You seem to be quirky and fun.” His response was, “Honestly, that might just be cabin fever.” 

And I thought, FINALLY, someone real.

It’s the real I want. 

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TANYA EBY is a narrator, writer, and the Comfy Mentor. Check out her romcoms written with Sarina Bowen that have people meeting in real life with real romance. And no clams.