That title is the best word I could come up with to describe my feelings.
It’s probably premature, but I downloaded a dating app the other day. Once again, I’m reminded of how soul-crushing dating can be. At least with this app, most of the men are cookie-cutter bros. Words like “active lifestyle”, “50+ countries”, and “outdoors” pop up a lot. It has also caused me to automatically forehead-crush a can when I read the words “partner in crime,” but that’s something to be looked into at another time.
First of all, I’ve learned that “active lifestyle” is another term for “no fatties.” And in this town, even in my size 12-14 pants, I’m considered a fattie. One dude even listed that no one with a BMI over 19 should swipe right. I swiped left so hard my phone almost flew across the room. I considered swiping right for the tiny chance that we’d match so I could tell him my BMI was 19 plus 11 and that science has proven BMI to be some epic bullshit. But would he learn anything? No. (Full disclosure: I’m fine with my body for the most part. Not every moment of every day, but I refuse to let society and dating app assholes make me feel shitty about it.)
Second, I don’t give a shit how many stamps are in your passport. I’ve never been anywhere (I don’t count my visit to Canada), but that doesn’t make me lesser in any respect. Also, when I see a number listed above experiences, it doesn’t count. It’s like saying you’ve visited Tennessee when all you did was drive through it on your way to Disney World. I’d rather stay in one place and feel genuinely fulfilled with local adventures than spend tons of money to check a box on a list. Suck it.
Third, where are all my indoor kids?! I don’t hate the outdoors *entirely,* but I have a limited tolerance of them. All this kayaking and hiking and running exhausts me just thinking about it. I’ll try kayaking. I don’t mind a short hike. But running can get bent. So can camping. That’s not a vacation–that’s homelessness. I’ll keep my books and my crafts and my video games in a climate-controlled environment, thanks.
No offense meant to readers who are avid campers. I realize I’m in the minority there. My frustration comes with the feeling that I have to learn how to “sell myself” to find a date–that who I truly am isn’t enough. That if I write that I love gaming and my couch and that I hate exercising, I’m essentially guaranteeing my loneliness. That’s dumb and false.
Online dating is both great and terrible. I’ve met some great folks through it that remain friends (including the last guy), but that happens rarely. You really have to find a needle in a haystack, and the haystack is wet, muddy, stinks, and full of barbs that sting. Sometimes it’s not worth the emotional exhaustion. But then, it’s really hard to meet people organically with the way the world is now. I don’t have much choice, so I’m trying to wade into this mess again, but slowly, and keeping my well-being first. If it means I’m destined to loneliness for all eternity, fine. I’ll always have my couch.