
I finally decided it was time to log off and pass away approximately a month ago. I felt such a wave of strength — and, to be honest, relief — when I removed all of my dating apps. First to go was Tinder, then Hinge, and finally Bumble.
As I read Tinder and the Dawn of the “Dating Apocalypse” in Vanity Fair, I couldn’t help but nod absentmindedly and mumble something like “Yep, yep, yep.”
The writer didn’t really need to remind me that relationships, marriages, and the process of finding someone worth spending more time with than just a quick swipe left or right had all been altered by dating apps.
Having been single for four difficult years, I saw firsthand how the process changed and, in many ways, got worse. This was even proved when my mother took over my Tinder account for a week.
I had to ask myself, though, “Why was I wasting all this time on something that makes me miserable?” since, as the piece repeatedly notes, we’re all still using the internet to interact with people we like offline.
It took me a week, like any real addict, to wean myself off of my dating IV and to stop having the anxiety-inducing shivers, wondering, “How will I meet people if I’m not on these apps? How am I going to respond?
The short answer is that I’m not actually out on dates or doing much to meet people, but I am also much (much!) happier than when I used to get notifications when a new message or match appeared on my home screen.
Being a frequent user of the app did a lot of negative things to my confidence, my perception of love, and even how I behaved on those occasions.
Here’s what I’ve discovered after stepping back and stepping away from the roller coaster of swiping for laughs and shits:
I No Longer Require The Validation
The author of the Vanity Fair piece talked about how simple it is to feel good about oneself.
And it’s true because sometimes you’ll see an attractive guy that you’d want to talk to and meet in person, and then all of a sudden, he matches you!
You have the feeling that this will be more than simply a fleeting attraction. The enigma vanishes ten minutes later when he informs you that you have “Nice tits.”
Being matched could boost my confidence before a date, but it could also make me feel quite hot at the time.
Not only do people never look as they seem, but I was also quick to blame myself when the date didn’t work out.
“Why am I unable to meet someone amazing? What’s wrong with me? And why do I continue to draw in such horrible people? It’s not really them, nor is it really me, in all honesty.
This is the way dating has changed: you get rapid approval, which is followed by snap decisions and easy access to different options.
I’m More Willing To Start Conversations In Odd Locations
The majority of my parents’ friends and even my pals in their mid-30s who met their current partners before the advent of online and app dating did not turn to technology in search of love.
Instead, they happened to meet at work or through pals at random. Going offline has made me more receptive to interacting with men in unusual settings. Examples include:
- I am asking for assistance when I need help to reach the top shelf.
- Grinning at the cute guy in the dog park.
- I go to a bar by myself and strike up a conversation with whoever happens to be nearby.
I’ve been playing online games for a long time, so it’s a little out of my comfort zone, but it’s been a powerful method for feeling uncomfortable.
Here I was, thinking I had lost my ability to flirt, but in reality, I was only pulling faces behind my thumbs.
I’m smiling more, and even though I haven’t met the love of my life or anything, the folks I have met are of a higher caliber.
If I want to have casual sex, I don’t need apps.
I’ve never had a one-night fling through an app. Matching with someone and then heading to their apartment ten minutes later to get into a brawl seems dirty to me.
Sure, whatever makes you happy, but if I really wanted to get sexy tonight, I could probably figure out how to do it without going online.
Since we’ve all been able to have casual sex for decades, the grit and passion of texting about sex is lost while using apps, even though they do make it slightly simpler to match with like-minded individuals.
The most exciting interactions I’ve had with strangers have had in-person sex talks, alcohol, a lot of build-up, and a fantastic conclusion.
Are we simplifying and discarding everything too much, even the objects that are supposed to be attractive?
I’m Content With My Single Status Now.
As Vanity Fair pointed out, online dating has always felt a lot like online buying. Furthermore, the longer I stayed online, the more pointless, demeaning, and superficial it became — even though at first it was enjoyable, and I did get to meet some very great individuals.
Not only did I sense that I was not a priority, but I also understood that I was. When I stood up to use the restroom on a date, I always knew that my partner could pull out his phone and have another woman waiting for an hour or so. Additionally, I was aware that if I weren’t into having sex with them that evening, the meet-and-greet would come to an end.
However, I continued using the applications for years despite the fact that they irritated me and made me feel bad about myself.
Why? I have been dating for as long as I have been using these apps. I was ‘exposing myself to the public.’ I was trying not to live by myself all the time.
I don’t feel as pressured without them. I don’t have anything to reply to, research, or consider regarding a date. Instead, I’m allowing whatever happens to happen.
Because I wasn’t content even when I was using those apps frequently and went on dates. I wasn’t excited about them.
I was tired of logging on and going through the same old conversation again.
Not only have I been more at ease and content with my single status, but I’ve also become a better date since I was brave enough to let them go and feel more comfortable.
I met the men I go out with offline; therefore, I have an interest in them. I had sincere chats and real-life encounters with them.
I might miss out on meeting my soul mate just because I refuse to use Tinder. I will tell you one thing, though: I’m not worried. I don’t want to be irritated that he wasn’t as tall as he claimed to be, that he tried to fall asleep with me in less than ten minutes, or that his grin wasn’t the same in person when I finally met him.
I won’t have to worry about those things as I’ll be aware of what to expect from the beginning.
And he’ll be brave enough to ask if he can buy me a drink after he realizes how wasteful and heartless those time-wasting applications are.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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From The Good Men Project on Medium
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