We Go Together Now or Nah
Make it stand out
Weary of all the “talking” stages and wasted interactions that ended in ghosting, I decided some years ago to take a step back from romance and focus on my mental health. I could no longer endure sitting over a cocktail across from someone who declares themselves a “sapiosexual” because they nut every time they hear an SAT word. I would feel physically ill having to answer questions like “why don’t you want to have kids?” and finding it hard to restrain myself from knocking over my tequila and screaming “because I don’t want to turn my vagina into a gore tunnel! Is that okay with you chief?” I could not handle any more suggested Myers-Briggs questionnaires and synastry chart evaluations. No more “do you like pineapple on your pizza?” taste assessments. Just spit in my mouth and get my name tattooed on your clavicle already, I can’t take it!
It’s easy to get burnt out from dating because so much of it is affectation, repetition and feigning interest in trivial shit. I want only mention Béla Tarr and pretend to care that you’re learning macramé. You ask me what I like to do for fun and I try to answer like I haven’t been asked that a painful amount of times. And as much as I wish I could just lock eyes with a beautiful stranger in the Trader Joe’s as we both reach for the cookie butter, we live in a time where swiping on dating apps is the reality and it’s very exhausting.
During my hiatus, I took time to self-reflect and examine how I form attachments to people, hoping to create stronger romantic and platonic bonds in the future. I learned that I am capable of doing a lot more alone than I initially thought without feeling self-conscious about it. I developed a stronger appreciation for my solitude and recognized how important it is to prioritize mental health. While introspection and withdrawing from the dating world were necessary for me, I started to get lonely and coveted intimacy. I was down bad. Eating packages of extra spicy Buldak ramen while crying to the Shrek 2 soundtrack just to feel something. Flicking my bean so much that all my vibrators broke and I had to go analog. A bitch was looking at a baguette like I was a dick-deprived empress in 15th century Constantinople. I needed just a little cunnilingus, as a treat. So I decided from there, to jump back into the dating pool.
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Modern dating seemed to hold steady with the apps such as Tinder, Hinge and Bumble, not shifting much in their approaches to connecting people during my absence. Not having to adjust much upon re-entering the world of dating apps alleviated some of my hesitations. Just like most things, returning to something you took a break from requires ease. My impatience sometimes gets the best of me and I just wanna scream “I confessed what problematic cartoons I wanna fuck, we go together now or nah?!” Sadly, the process of dating can be slow when looking for the right match.
I had to swipe left through a lot of profiles to get to any that I felt were even remotely appealing, but that was nothing new. What was new were some of the cringey ways in which users were describing themselves in their bios. I’m sorry but what is an “adventure capitalist?” I’ll kill you. “Myers-Briggs: ACAB?” This will be my villain origin story. I beg, please just go back to describing yourselves as empaths or Hufflepuffs and stop trying to be irreverent. My approach to writing my bio was different than it had been in the past, where I was trying to be alluring. This time I was going for delightful and sincere. I’ll duet with you at karaoke. I’m not above a Streisand show tune. I’ll captivate your mom. Mummies love me. Don’t be surprised if she smells of Chablis and starts listening to jazz. I’ll class that bird up real nice.
I was using most of the apps, all of which have their own special features. Tinder was the most anxiety-inducing to me. Aside from fearing potential dates being violent psychopaths, I don’t want to be swiping and accidentally SuperLike some French Daddy Dom who DJ’s every summer in EE-BEETH-A and wears deadstock Ed Hardy t-shirts. Now I gotta delete the app, call Saul Goodman and relocate to a small town to assume a new identity. Hinge on the other hand just made me want to shuffle off this mortal coil. Prompts like “what is the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?” and I see the response, “bought tickets to a
Nickelback concert.” You’re so random king, go off. It’s moments like these that required a tremendous amount of tenacity. It was either continue swimming through the pool of fish or spend many moons alone, with no one to admire my bare titties or witness me pluck my chin hairs.
“I don’t want to be swiping and accidentally SuperLike some French Daddy Dom who DJ’s every summer in EE-BEETH-A and wears deadstock Ed Hardy t-shirts. “
Going on live dates again was awkward to say the least. I lacked the grace I normally have. I know I’m a charming broad with exquisite taste, but I was still feeling out of sorts and self-conscious. I was also so horny at that point I would just look into my date’s eyes and think, yeah you believe in socialized healthcare and love David Lynch’s collective oeuvre, but can you handle this vortex vagina? Clap these cheeks expeditiously my sweet bitch. And I was dreading being asked the classic “so why are you single?” question. Yes, I am neurotic and panic at self-made typos, but have you tried dating right now? It’s the fucking trenches! Ethically non-monogamous couples in fishermen’s beanies trying to Jenny Holzer Truism their way into some pussy because they like your “vibe.” It makes you want to pass away!
Going back into the dating pool, I thought I’d have a new and more positive perspective on the process, but sadly I was left feeling defeated because not much had changed in my absence. It was still filled with surface-level connections, inauthentic intentions, shallow people and dudes asking if I wanted to give them the suck up. While meeting new people is usually intriguing, looking for someone who meets certain criteria can be taxing. I also couldn’t even get a dinner date from these insufferable millennials who just want to “grab a drink.” It’s not me being inattentive while I imbibe my cocktail, bitch I’m hungry! Do I have to hear you wax lyrical about programming languages and NFTs while I’m getting light-headed? I think le fúck not!
Dating app and talking stage fatigue kicked in...again. The “wyd?” texts multiple times a day, answering the same questions about my favorite film and where I see myself in five years. Conversations that plateau after a few exchanges. While I was proud of myself for returning to a scene that had caused me distress in the past, my reservations about it unfortunately were only further validated. I decided to just chill on actively trying to find love and just satisfy my libido with rotating dick appointments. It’s like a free trial without subscribing and accepting all terms and conditions. And as I binge-watched The Venture Bros. when I got home, I fantasized about meeting my mate in the cured meats aisle of a specialty store. A girl can dream.
Words: Marquita Norwood
