Tinder Conversing — Eat My Prune

Is there anything worse than Tinder conversing? Well, other than dying alone? Or worse, Bumble, where the woman has to send a witty message to a complete stranger while there’s a ticking clock? Dying alone doesn’t sound that bad after all.

But I do want to date. I just hate the whole online conversing. I even hate texting. Be a man and call and talk to me in real time. This whole new age of dating has produced a bunch of scared, little pussies.

I’m not perfect either. I’ve been a ghoster myself. I haven’t responded to men on the apps or occasionally even after one date. I won’t always return a guy’s text if I’m not feeling it. Why do I do that? Well, a lot of reasons. Sometimes when saying “no” to men, you never know how they’re going to react. Some men will get very aggressive and angry and then insult me. It’s happened more than once. They’ll say things like “Fuck you. Get over yourself. You’re not even that hot anyway.” And then continue to berate me. Or they’ll say “I won’t take no for an answer.” And that’s never a good thing you want to hear from a man. So…if I can avoid those scenarios, I will.

Now I don’t think every man is a raging monster. I still have hope that I’ll meet my person and everything will line up how it’s suppose to line up. But perhaps not on my timeline. Slowly things been working out for me in other areas of my life. I mean, I’ve been doing the work. But part of why things are working out is because I’ve been showing up. So do I need to show up for fucking Tinder?

When you don’t wind up marrying your college sweetheart, then what?

When you’re self-employed or if you work in a field with a bunch of misogynistic men, then what?

If you don’t want to spend any more times in bars pretending that you actually like beer, then what?

Is the answer…ONLINE DATING?!?!?

The irony of the whole “working on yourself thing” is that it’s made dating a lot harder. I am beginning to love and respect myself. I do not want to waste my time on anyone who is a scared, little pussy. I’m saying “no” more and more. I’m listening to my intuition and observing those red flags. (Trust me, I’ve been smacked on the head with red flags, time and time again and time and time again and time and…you get the point. Sometimes my desire to love and be loved will oversee just about anything, and I mean anything: condescending pencil dicks, men twice my age, lying and gaslighting addicts, fat dudes, broke dudes, emotionally unavailable men who are really into finger puppets… again, you get the point. But do I get the point? And yes. Yes I do).

I’m not alone on this journey. And neither are you. And maybe deep down we’re all scared, little pussies. And we probably are. But can we all grow up from time to time? It feels like we’ve gone back to middle school where we are writing notes to one another behind the teachers back. Do you like me? Circle yes or no. That’s the basics of swiping left or swiping right. I’m not sure how to solve this nauseating online dating situation we have going on. I just would like for it to evolve into something a bit more adult.

Bueller? Bueller?