Being Single

Being Single

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Arguably, I consider myself to be somewhat current and extremely savvy in the dating scene. I don’t mean it the way most people would probably perceive that statement. Don’t get me wrong…I am a savage when it comes to men. My issue isn’t finding them or having a nice dinner planned for every night of the week. It’s the intimacy part that I get hung up on. Maybe I’m a true product of my generation since I have fallen prey to social media and the accessibility of dates at any possible moment. Tinder, bumble, Match (if life long love and marriage is your thing, but, I doubt it, especially if you’re still reading this.)

Please know, I’m not just speaking abstractly. I have played on these apps. I have toyed with any man that holds my glance a little longer than he should. I’m in my prime and only growing stronger. So why am I on the verge of 30, single as the day is long, and in no way panicking about my future? Because I’d rather die and have my cat eat my face than settle for someone that’s convenient at the time being. Otherwise, in a year I won’t know how to dance my way out of this pop up relationship that I never asked for, if I don’t cut it off when I should. It sounds harsh but trust me, it’s way harder to leave someone when you spend too many nights snuggling and keep things at his house. It’s heartbreaking. For him.

Sometimes I like to play a little game called “Swipe right to drink right.” This means I have a night off, I’m bored, and I’m going to find a nice enough, devastatingly handsome man to take me out for dinner and drinks. I used to choose lowkey bars that are real shot and a beer style but I’ve learned that guys expect too much from you then. If I suggest a place that has craft cocktails or a wine bar, so they already know I have some level of elegance and won’t try as hard to bring me home and roll in the sheets after Night One. I mainly pull this stunt because 9 times out of 10, I hate them the moment I meet them. So I get a little buzz, try my hardest to smile at their stupid job anecdotes and pay attention enough to make it through the night. I like to play the “I think that martini went straight to my head” card and bail out. I cleverly sip a water and thank him for the drinks and how embarrassed I am. This way hopefully he won’t call again or push too hard if I say no. Meanwhile I’m in the backseat of a cab, fixing my makeup, off to meet my friends for a night out. Because actually I don’t care about your investment job, I drink like a fish, and I’d rather tour NYC’s best cocktail lounges for free than skim through my Netflix. Sure, I’m a total monster. But I think if you’re single, especially in this town, there’s way too little time to live it up before you land a diamond on your hand.

These dating apps, that everyone is unfortunately on, were supposably created to help us. “Help” being the keyword here, because I’m not sure if it’s helping anyone or dragging us further down the rabbit hole. Realistically speaking, I believe it’s the latter of the two. I’m never going to find my dream man while drunk swiping through his best photos late at night. Because it’s superficial as shit and that’s the foundation of what is to come? A romance built on image and the lipstick and high heels version? Call me in six months when you stop going to the gym and you’re “comfortable.” And you know where I’ll be when that call comes? Gone. Ghost. Bye. This is why I can only commit to not committing. Because I can’t imagine a life where everyone gives up so easily. On themselves. On each other. It’s just Quitting 101 and I refuse to even sign up for that class.

Let’s just say, hypothetically, that you do find your dream man, drunk swiping, online. And everything is perfect. The talks, the sex, the dinners. Perfect. But now we have the big bad social media wrecking ball. And you know where it’s headed? Right for your storybook fucking romance. The truth is your little love affair was built on a faulty foundation. Just because you like the same music and both drink red wine doesn’t mean you have similar life goals or outlooks. This is where feathers get ruffled. So what does one little Facebook post or tagged Instagram photo do? It stirs the pot. It creates doubt. Who is this girl? Why is he there? We make ourselves crazy with fictitious occurrences and the jealousy takes over. Inevitably separating you. Because it wasn’t right from the start. The minute you start dating someone online, you can’t help but think they are swiping and dating as much as you are. You never really have the right to say anything, and you’re never really sure when to say something because it’s supposed to be casual. This is why online dating is a true nightmare and what I’m here to elaborate on. You feel hungry or want to go out for a night of adventure? Great. Go for it. If you’re trying to actually land a man, forget it. He’s already ruined by the options out there and all it takes is for him to go home every night and barrel through those photos for you to be forgotten. Look how savagely I treat men, and it would be way worse if I was Texas rich and devastatingly handsome. I probably wouldn’t respect anyone. We’re filling voids and killing time. Lord knows I have a bankroll full of misconduct and mayhem in my vault. Maybe this all sounds extremely vapid. Maybe it’s too rough a pill for you to swallow. Maybe you’re too naive to realize we live in a time fueled by exchange of power. Everyone is just out here trying to get their ego stroked, and that’s the God’s honest truth.

 

BEING SINGLE
Dating Apps from Hell
By Allison Torres

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