Why I Quit Dating Apps

I hadn't dated since the 90s.

Hey. I’m here. I’m back. Or whatever you say when you mysteriously disappear from a social platform for about a year.

Instead of writing a novel of reasons why I needed a break from writing, I’ll just get to writing.

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I wrote this on my personal Facebook page on June 18th:

Y'all.

I've been giving too much of my energy away.

After 10+ years of intentional self-work and monthly+ therapy sessions (yes, 10 years of monthly or more therapy sessions), I still struggle with the head and heart getting along.

I'm a helper. A carer. Lover. Dreamer.

Passionate. Creative. Playful. Wild.

My brain doesn't want to place rules or restrictions in those places of my heart because RUDE and HOW DARE YOU.

That is, not until my heart is physically hurting or I'm so drained that I isolate and can’t move. Then my brain will obnoxiously remind me, "You knew. We let you know, again. You've always known."

I have always known.

I know well enough that I only let a few people into my deeper self.

That's where I get into trouble.

So, imagine me DATING. In today's society. ONLINE. After 20 years of marriage.

Before my divorce, I hadn't dated since the 90s.

You know, back when you had to BRAVELY approach an interesting someone JUST FOR THEIR PHONE NUMBER.

Then, you had to call them and...SPEAK WITH YOUR VOICE to conversate and maybe even ask them out on a date.

That took some serious courage and effort. I dare say it built character and humility, too.

BUT TODAY? Y'aaaall.

Today, dating is a "choose your own weird-ass adventure" paperback with zero instructions on what page to turn to AFTER you've chosen the adventure.

Then, I went on an imaginary tangent with equal parts parody, truth, and (mostly) venting. I might make this a separate post, but today, my focus is singular (a rare moment if you know me well).

I ended this long-winded adventure with the following:

Amy embraced her energy and giving spirit as valuable and beautiful. Her standards and values are more important than being on a carousel of limbo. She’s excited to meet someone in the same space and shares the same energy. She also removed all of her dating apps and no longer hates herself.

So, I did. I removed all of my dating apps. “All,” as in two - Bumble and Hinge.

This isn’t the first time I’ve decided to “take a stand, grrrrrrr” against online dating. Or dating in general. And that would last for three or so months before I would find a new “hope” that if I manifested good enough energy, I would receive the same. Maybe something healthy would stick.

I wish I could report that it played out differently, but no. The result was always the same.

My “hope” felt delusional, and I would often wonder, “What the actual hell is wrong with me?”

I seriously wanted to know. I needed clarity.

After so. many. years. of working on strengthening my self-awareness and ability to be objective, I couldn’t figure it out.

What were the patterns I was missing? What was the common denominator other than me?

And then…

OH.

Oh, okay.

Well, shit.

It would take another aching experience to show me. The third ache.

I saw it. The pattern.

The girl before the girlfriend.

The in-between girl.

The placeholder.

That was me.

It starts a little like this:

This is the norm with online dating: the “Hey, to be clear, I’m not looking for a relationship” proclamation on the first date.

I’ve always found this to be an interesting statement from someone I’m just meeting. Even if we’ve communicated before an IRL encounter, we're still essentially strangers. Making future predictions with a person they don’t know is…odd. But again, it’s a standard issue first date convo (and if you see them more, you’ll get friendly reminder drops).

Now, if this was coming from a “f*^k boi" or hook-up situation, yeah. Of course. Adds up.

But these men aren’t those men.

These men have histories of long marriages and/or committed relationships.

As do I.

We get close. Share vulnerabilities.

Have an obvious connection. Witty humor. Depth. Intense attraction.

There’s excitement and curiosity to learn more about this person. This is just the beginning—we’re only a few months in!

And, here we go.

Again.

“I know. I haven’t said that I am. It’s far too soon for me to jump that far ahead. Right now, I’m looking forward to learning more about you in the now.”

Three or four months go by, and then they quickly pull away.

And like a dramatic slammed-closing of a book, they’re gone. Done.

No in-person conversation beforehand. Little or no explanation via text.

They’re just…gone.

To share how I feel afterward would fill pages.

Hurt. Betrayal of trust.

Used.

Invisible. Stranger.

Receiving the “news” through a text feels especially dehumanizing.

As if my face isn’t real and I have no voice. Could they not look at my face?

Then, as you probably guessed, they move on quickly to serious relationships.

really means

A. total. mind. f^*k.

This last one broke me. I didn’t know if I should be mad at myself for investing time in something that dismissed me or at him for dropping me in that manner.

I’m not a fan of blame, so I don’t need to assign it.

I learned that I must be protective of my time because when I give, I give all of me. There’s nothing hidden or secret. It’s big and warm and pretty damn awesome.

What I also learned:

I’m not a pathway for others to thrive, experiment with, or prime for future committed relationships.

That is a disservice to my gifts, and I don’t feel self-absorbed saying that. I love myself enough to know that my energy is precious and special. I’ve worked hard to know and own that.

Investing my time digging through dating apps, texting to “meet” someone, and maybe (big maybe) seeing them in person is so. exhausting. and. draining. And the time spent on that is ridiculous.

Over the past six years, I haven’t dated as much as my comrades, but it’s just too much for me. I’m not wired for this method of connecting with people.

I also don’t want to be a fling, fantasy, or the girl before the girlfriend.

Maybe men don’t see me as wanting a relationship. I always say that if it naturally led that way, I would be completely open to it. I would love to be in a healthy relationship. But, again, I can’t possibly know that on the first date or even in the early days of dating.

There is a strange sense of rushing/not rushing/rushing again.

The same rush that goes into saying, “I’m not looking for a relationship,” incessantly also goes into doing the same thing.

What’s with this rushing? Why can’t we be present to take in what is happening NOW? This rush is unnecessary and, in my opinion, can lead down an unhealthy path where everything is likely going too. freaking. fast.

I dunno.

My friend Jess sent me Chappell Roan’s “Coffee” the other day, and, welp, yup. It was timely and relatable. Sans the “I love you” part. There wasn’t time to discover/decide/whatever that part. But trust? Yeah.

Now that I am fully aware of my part in these dating encounters, I can look back at the beautiful moments from the past with peace and joy. Because there were many to celebrate.

I genuinely wish everyone in my past peace, joy, and happiness. I hope their lives are full, flourishing, and thriving with love. Only the best is what I want for them.

Perhaps they look back, too. Maybe they still remember.

Thanks for reading wild at dawn! This post is public so feel free to share it.

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