I am the worst at dating. This is not just because I have never gone on a second date.
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It also has to do with the fact that I suck at messaging people back on Tinder, I feel guilty about messaging multiple people, and altogether, I question the point of dating. I have tried to expel this on paper before.
Something about hanging out with strangers that you sought out via an app whispers desperation to me. I immediately want to backspace over that sentence because I think of my friends who date casually, I think of myself meeting people off Tinder et al. But I also realize I do think that.
But then why do I find myself browsing Bumble and the like late at night, rarely messaging people, but always curious what attractive person I will find and match with next? Yes, some of it is narcissism. But also, there is a desire to meet people.
Dating, the act itself, is intimidating. You are putting yourself out there.
You are vulnerable. It is not just swiping.
It is putting your whole entire specimen on the table—no Instagram filters, no friends censoring your profile, no thirty second or hour delay on reactions, just clinical meet interesting people and personal biases sizing you up—and then waiting to see if the other person accepts you and wants to see you again. I enjoy meeting people. I often find myself laughing with this person, sharing clever observations, and bonding for whatever time it takes to get to the bottom of the coffee cup.
We say goodbye. We indicate we should see each other again. But we rarely do.
Maybe we should just ask, can I get coffee with this person again and enjoy myself? Romance be damned.
Friendship be everything. Sometimes romance, love, and lust get in the way of dating. We should just be looking for interesting people.
Because love is strange, but people are stranger. Complacency and Cupid's Arrow.
Why We Date. In Defense of Singledom. Address. Up. Newer Older.