Vol. 2, Post #66 Nothing Doing
Can I keep it zipped? My sex tips for girls* (*girls who are holding on to mid-life by a thread). A dating odyssey for Young Olds, (people with readers).
Last week, I got an email from a Dear Reader who said she sent this post along to a friend of hers that works for Hinge, the dating app. In the post, I wrote that at some point, I might go back online and take a look around, and that I had never used Hinge, so maybe…I’d investigate. And then…Hinge pinged ME!
Well, what actually happened is that my Dear Reader asked if she could pass along my email address, so that her Hinge pal could be in touch and ask me a few questions. Um, SURE! And almost immediately, I got an email from Lady Hinge, who told me that she LOVED my column (SWOON!!!!!) and was so excited for me to check out Hinge — would I do that and if yes, would I give her and her team some feedback? Um, SURE!
So here’s the thing. I’m not entirely interested in going full bore on dating yet, more like just dipping a toe back in, and I wasn’t thinking that I’d go online anytime soon. I’m wildly comfortable in my own life AND lazy although, as noted, also kind of climbing the walls with regard to missing sex, so by default, I guess dating needs to figure into the near future plans, because sport fucking is of zero interest right now. Shrugs. It is what it is.
Therefore, I picked up my phone and made a Hinge profile.
It took less than 10 minutes. I randomly pulled some selfies from social media that I had posted in the past year, answered three prompts, and set my “filters” to the most stringent criteria possible — I included dealbreakers for almost all of the options, not just some of the things that I won’t “do” a different way: Politics, distance, tobacco smokers, drugs (note for the uninitiated: “dealbreaker” mean you don’t negotiate on it — so for me, Liberals ONLY, 100 miles or closer, NO smokers, only those 5’9” or taller, and Jesus Fucking Christ, I’m too old for drugs).
I set these filters with laser intent. Yes, I have dated shorter people (one was a fairly well-known lesbian actor, hilarious, and likewise, one of my greatest lovers/biggest pains in my ass/worst heartbreaks was two inches shorter than me); I’ve dated further away than an hour and half (I do love a road trip, especially if a great fuck is at the end of it); and I’ve dated smokers (who were all going to quit any minute or only smoked one or two a day, oh sure, eye roll), but I’m not compromising on any of that anymore, and likewise, I will NEVER AGAIN negotiate on Liberals Only (don’t get me started on" “Apolitical” — that’s just code for Conservative or, conversely, Bathsit Crazy). As for drugs? I mean, sure, I’ll eat some mushroom chocolates and wander in the woods, but that’s pretty much the limit and I’m holding firm. Drugs seem, I dunno, childish? I’d rather go to bed early and wake up with the knowledge that I didn’t behave like a total flaming asshole, free to enjoy my coffee without having to text anyone an apology for being a lunatic. Good times.
So there I was, profile complete, ready to hit the button to make it “live,” and then equally ready to sit back and do…nothing.
After an hour or two, I saw that notifications from Hinge were popping up on my phone, so I opened up the app and took a peek, taking a moment to note how scrolling through the “likes” and messages made me feel in my body.*
*When I write that ^^^, I mean this: Usually, when I’ve gone online to date, I end up being “the best little online dater in the world!” I’ve been told that what works in my professional life does not always translate well to what works in my personal life, by the way. This is correct.
More on this. I tend to be overly ambitious most of time, even when it would serve me better to be simply curious and perhaps a bit more laid back, allowing information to flow towards me instead of becoming an expert in the field, as it were. When I started my PR business, I jumped with with two feet and went HARD. That was the right move. When I wanted to learn drums, I did the same, which was great for practicing and showing enthusiasm, but also by Month Three, I was asking how soon could I play “When The Levee Breaks” even though that is an INSANE choice for a newbie, and while I did play it, I anxiously sweated my balls off during the last few weeks of practice ahead of our gig. You get the idea.
Dating used to be a similar “must do to the nth degree” for me. Do not pause. Do not “see what happens.” I NEEDED to know and I NEEDED to run the operation like a well-oiled machine. It used to be that I “activated” my I Can Multitask Date Like A Mofo Super Power and I was off, dating lots of people at one time, sometimes more than one date in a day (late morning coffee and late afternoon cocktail? SURE!) On one hand, I do have that weirdo gift of hyper-organization while multitasking in almost any capacity, so this method of dating didn’t daunt me and actually, the opposite was true: it was FUN. But on the other hand, it was frenetic and that’s not where I want to be in this new chapter. The opposite. So in setting up the Hinge profile and agreeing to engage on it for biz (their request) and pleasure (mine and potentially, my date’s), I wanted to be sure that my engine wasn’t overly revved.
As mentioned, after a few hours, I opened the app and took a look at who was populating my “likes.” There were a few interesting men but no one who really jumped out at me. I decided I’d poke around as well, so I started scrolling, keeping an eye on the clock. I had told myself that I was devoting 20-30 minutes to this max, and then I was going to be off the app for the day.
NOTE TO MY NEW FRIEND AT HINGE: Here’s what I did not like about the app: on a potential match’s profile, you have to use a finger to scroll/navigate many of the details about your date. In other words, some of the info was listed vertically on the profile, but some of it required maneuvering (location and height are both semi-hidden). Make all of that info a vertical list, please. But here’s what I did like about the app: you could simply comment on a potential match’s photo and that became “a like” — and it seemed like it was no biggie. A few people commented on my photos; I saw the comments, and if I was interested, I responded and if not, that was the end of that. I also liked that when you passed on someone, you could “remove” them from your search, with no reason other than “not interested.” It’s possible that this is a function which other dating apps also employ, and related, I believe it’s also part of the Burned Haystack theory of “block to burn” — Burned Haystack is a dating method that a lot of women say has taught them to hold boundaries (it’s Google-able, if you want to learn more, as I did — I don’t agree with some of the BH suggestions, but the basics seem to suggest the best daters hold high standards. I couldn’t agree more). “Block to burn” means you block potential matches who don’t appeal to you on dating sites so that they don’t get recycled in your feed later on and, therefore, this is supposed to force the dating app to give you fresh picks more often. So instead of just clicking “X” if I wasn’t interested, I hit “remove” on the app and assumed I wouldn’t see these folks again. I guess time will tell, huh?
After about 15 minutes or so of swiping around (and I was making notes so I could keep track of this practice as I said I was offering feedback AND policing my own habits), I had sent comments to six or seven men. Here’s what they all had in common:
No one had a photo taken in front of a boat, a plane, or a sports car. I hate that showy shit.
No one had a photo taken at a sporting match in a team jersey or with a mascot. Like what you want but I don’t enjoy sports and if it figures into your life to the degree that you go to events in team regalia and need me to come along, I’m not interested.
No one had a photo with kids, faces blocked out or otherwise. NO. I don’t care about your kids at this point and you shouldn’t WANT me to care about your kids at this point. Also, I don’t want to date anyone with young kids. Did that.
All of them mentioned music, art, or what they’ve learned about love/emotional growth/spiritual growth over the years, as in, they had an interest in any of those topics.
I also noted that only two of the men that I had “liked” looked like my “type” — with dark thick hair, most likely with tattoos, probably with some facial hair, TALL, probably with more than a hint of smartassery. The other few? NOT my type, which is the point.
I’m sick of my type.
The same way I’m sick of leading the charge and doing more than my share of the work in a relationship. I’ve written endlessly about that here, so I’ll just say that in that precise moment, app opened, no clue as to what was really going on, I thought about the wonder that comes with…Standing. Perfectly. Still.
Like, literally keeping my mouth shut, after I’ve indicated I’m open to the approach. No suggesting that we take this off the app for a chat. No asking if and when we should meet. All those things were part of my practice when I was previously online because I had no time to waste. Now, I’ve got nothing but time. So. Do nothing. Total silence and, in fact, utter inertia as I waited to see what THE OTHER PERSON’S move would be.
WHEN THE HAND GOES UP, THE MOUTH GOES SHUT INDEED. You tell ‘em, Morty.
So what happened?
Well, one of the two men who I think of as “my type” responded and we’ve chatting back and forth a few times but he hasn’t initiated anything beyond that. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and, as noted, I don’t especially care. If he asks me out, I’ll probably go assuming he does it in a reasonable timeframe. If he doesn’t make a move towards that soon, I’ll unmatch with him. The same way that I just unfriended a man on social media who has asked me out twice and then canceled, both times with legit reasons, but still. Nah. You don’t need or deserve any more access to me.
But more interesting to me is that three of the men on Hinge who are not my type, but still fit my criteria, have moved along our conversations swiftly, asking me if we could text or call (yes, a little of both until we meet, if we meet, and again, I’m not steering that ship). Of those three, one made his intent to take me on a date very known from the moment we started messaging and THAT is extremely attractive to me. Let’s call him Mr. Clean.
I’m going out with Mr. Clean this week. He seems really open, enthusiastic, and curious and like me, has come to a place in life as a Young Old where he enjoys the fruits of his labor but values his free time over amassing more possessions. And he’s let me know that he loves to be generous with his time, money, and attention when he feels a spark — I am all of those things too when I date. But I liked hearing him say it first.
I was driving home from a Memorial Day get together and realized I was looking forward to sharing a story with Mr. Clean from the gathering, so since he had asked if he could call me to say hi earlier in the day, I texted him that I was now avail and he called me within minutes. Conversation flows easily with him. I’m paying A LOT of attention to how this is making me feel (calm? good!) and how I respond to someone who is, after all, a stranger (interested within reason? also good). I turned down this man’s first invitation to have lunch mid-week since it’s catch up work crazies from the Monday holiday, and likewise, while I enjoy being lightly in touch with him ahead of our date, I don’t feel compelled to text him unless I have something to say, although of course I’m not being a standoffish douche or ignoring his texts when he reaches out. But he’s not up my ass, nor is he texting me daily, and I really like that.
Maybe it’s because I’m so calm and centered, but I don’t feel especially chatty. That’s not a bad thing
And in the past, when I was raring to go, I have been especially chatty at times. Which can be a bad thing. Too much talking, not enough listening. Too much furthering my agenda, not enough pausing to ponder “How is this all really making me feel?”
It used to be vital for me to get “the whole story” from my date early on, and likewise, share my story. Not OVERshare, but make sure that my potential partner knew how I liked to live, with what communities I connected, etc. To discuss what we both liked in romance and sex, etc. right out of the gate. No topic was terribly out-of-bounds for me and in fact, I enjoyed drawing those topics out of my dates as I wanted to decide quickly whether I would advance this person in my life.
And you know what? I think I made too many fast decisions to either move forward with someone prematurely, ignoring red flags due to insanely good chemistry, or assuming I knew which way the wind blew in their heads or hearts since they SEEMED familiar to me, and, conversely, probably cutting a few dates short, not giving them a chance.
So now? I’m sharing much less than I used to offer up. I’m not jumping to any conclusions, about my date or even my desires — example: my date this week has a shaved head (hence, Mr. Clean). In general, I don’t find a shaved head attractive. I like a lot of other things about him, so guess what? Let’s see. You know what he probably likes? A flatter stomach. Mine is not. Maybe he’ll discard me based on that. Who the hell knows?
The only thing that I DO know at this point, as summer rears her sexy languid head, as thoughts turn to maybe having a lover in tow for part of my annual August beach vacation, as I realize that I’m FINALLY over my last emotionally unavailable partner who haunted at least two or three of my other relationships that I tested out after that breakup, I am finally of the mind that I know very little about what I want except that whatever it is, I don’t want to chase it down to make it my own. I want it to flow towards me. I’ve said this before except now I think I actually mean it. Imagine that.
It’s now about half a week since I joined Hinge. I think I’ve checked the app four or five times in total. I still have a crush on the guy I met back in April, who is not really in a dating phase in his life, but again, that’s not my work, making him see the value in dating someone like me OR, likewise, helping him get over the personal challenge he’s facing so that he’s ready to date me. Hardly. Instead, I’m going on this date with Mr. Clean as discussed and most likely allowing a few other people to sniff around me, based on my availability. Generally speaking, this lack of movement used to seem boring as fuck to me. Not anymore. Welcome to my new MO. I couldn’t love it more in this moment.
NOW WHO THE HELL REMEMBERS THIS?!?!? It popped into my head as I was thinking about no mo’ rushing. Ever.
Oh, and next week, we’re talking about aging sex organs — yours and mine. Is soaking wet pussy and rock hard cock just for the kids? I think not, but we have a few things to discuss, so for those of you snoozing in the back of the room, hopefully, this woke you right the fuck up.