Sex, Tinder, and More Than That

12 01 2018

On changing up my dating life patterns and getting something better than before

Since getting back on Tinder in October of this year, I’ve matched with over 300 people, had conversations with 30% of them, and gone out with maybe, maybe 10 different souls.

Love_Sex_Tinder

It’s strange to me because 300 seems like a pretty big number and yet, I feel more disconnected than I ever have in my dating life. It’s as if the more people I match with the less likely I’ll find anyone of quality.

I know, I know, Tinder was created specifically for quantity. It’s designed so you want to keep coming back because someone hotter and funnier and smarter could be just a swipe away.

 

I get that we’re all throw-away people to each other now.

 

That we find ourselves rating our worth on the number of matches we have.

Yet, even though 300 people potentially would fuck me based off of a couple of photos, that doesn’t mean any of them would ever like being around me.

Like many people, I enjoy sex. I also have a higher sex drive than most people, men and women alike. It’s often not difficult to find someone willing to sleep with me. Yet, no matter how much I enjoy sex, one night stands, fucktoys, fuckboys, fuckgrrrls (is this a thing?), no-strings-attached, friends-with-benefits–it’s all becoming rather tiring.

It’s time to go deeper with someone–not physically deeper–emotionally, spiritually deeper. It’s like we’re all afraid to actually get to know someone. We come with excuses that are worse than the ones that George and Jerry and Elaine always seemed to find. Hands are too small. Nose is too big. Beard is weird. He still eats Chef-Boyardee. She does this annoying popping thing with her toes. He texts too much. She doesn’t text enough. He sucks my nose when we’re making out. She pees a little when she sneezes. etc. etc.

 

But why the constant excuses? Is it fear? Is it FOMO? Is it actually justifiable and we should know they’re right from the beginning?

 

I’ve decided to slow down. To rid my expectations of other people. To attempt to learn something from everyone I meet. To stay curious and open to the exploration of other souls–and at the same time, my own.

 

The Tinder culture is addicting. It’s like junk food, it tastes delicious but it’s just a bunch of empty calories nothingness.

 

You keep wanting more but it’s not good for you. Instead of rotting your teeth though, it rots your soul. It makes you feel both wanted and rejected at the same time. It makes you think that the possibilities are endless and you should never settle. And of course you should never settle, but you should also not keep repeating a pattern that fails to live up to anything substantial or meaningful.

tinder_junk_in_and_out

I’m not sure if it’s a waste so much as a distraction. A tool that we use to keep ourselves occupied, to keep opportunity available, to see just how fuckable we are on a surface level. Because we all want the possibility of connection, even if it’s just for a night, but many people, whether we want to admit it out loud or not, many of us want something more, something with legs, something closer to longevity.

Maybe all it takes is putting down the phone and looking around, interacting with people in real life situations. It at least seems more fulfilling to talk to someone face to face, see if anything is there, and act upon it if there is, walk away (quickly) if there isn’t?

All I know (which isn’t much) is that I have to stop thinking Tinder is the answer. To be honest, I can barely even remember the question, but I think it has to do with how we uncover love in its long form.

My plan is to create new habits and knock off the bad patterns regardless of how long it takes or how hard it is because I want more–and I’m going to get it.

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Throwing in the Love Towel.

10 08 2012

Yesterday I had what I’d like to call a “Rage Against the Machine Day” because I literally wanted to rage against the jackhammer that started chopping up asphalt at 8 in the morning and didn’t stop until 4. . . when I had to go to work. Not everyone has an 8 to 5 schedule. There are some of us who actually work the opposite of that. And this world is obviously not designed for our convenience, which is probably while most of us drink excessively and hate everything.

Speaking of hating everything–that happened again too.

It wasn’t a feeling of being tired, being tired I could handle (and do on a regular basis). It was a feeling of being fucked. No, not fucking, or fucked over or fucked up. Fucked. I thought maybe I had done something really shitty and the world was trying to balance it out, yet I have no idea what that would have been, so the whole karma belief dissipated and I realized that sometimes existing is just rough.

It was a day in which I questioned everything I believe in and started to believe in nothing. . . no, I didn’t even believe in nothing. I had no beliefs. I gave up on all the abstracts we cling to, love, loyalty, honesty, happiness. And instead I just glared at people. Wondering how they continued to move through the world every day in a seemingly content sort of way; wondering how I move through the world every day without completely destructing.

And it hasn’t gone way entirely yet either. I’m still in that thought-mode.

Even concepts that I’ve believed in for so long I’ve given up on, veganism, feminism, etc. It’s not like I’m going to go out and kill a cow or try to outlaw abortion–I just don’t care anymore. I don’t care enough to stop being vegan or to stop being a feminist, but I’m not going to put any effort into them, whatever that means.

It comes down to my whole issue with giving up on love. The big one. The abstractest abstract concept of them all. I think I’m mourning over the loss.

Okay, giving up on love is pretty vague. Here’s more of what I mean. When I think about what I need from people and what I can give, it doesn’t match up. It’s not fair to get involved with people when I’m such a mess. It’s not healthy for them or for me. When I sit here and imagine my future, there is no one I can vision getting me or even wanting to.

Maybe that’s the even bigger issue, I can’t see anyone wanting to, and that’s okay. Yeah, I’m a little sad about it, but I also want to be realistic about my existence. Why chase something that will never be?

I need accept it.

Just like my schedule doesn’t align well with jackhammers neither does my love align well with, well, anything.