My Year as a Finstagram Model

Online dating platforms are (almost) entirely useless to women like me. I identify sexually as non-monogamous and I enjoy all kinds of different men. And maybe even some women?

I wasn’t looking for anything special except spirited connections. All these wonderful choices were available, but I wasn’t able to make any because our apps — hell, our society — wasn’t built for non-monogamy.

I’d log in to see 4,000+ messages and likes and wonder, “How do you filter out potential people to date when you’re really, truly open-minded?”

Like:

Would I date a Trump supporter?

Yes, to try to change them.

Would I date a person who made less money than me, or who was in significant debt?

Yes, of course, because I’m not a gold-digging bitch.

Would you date someone of another race?

Yes, because I live uncomfortably aware of my sheltered white-washed upbringing.

Would I date you if you were married?

Possibly, depends on the situation.

So I was just swimming in choices.

The Easter Egg

I used to be a big “Lost” nerd. Buried at the bottom of my wordy Ok Cupid profile full of witticisms and clever frivolity, I lured the most astute and detail-oriented of interested applicants to the semi-anonymous Instagram account I had built. It provided a level of anonymity that made me more comfortable about dating again as an abuse survivor. #metoo

On my tongue-in-cheek “finstagram” account, I posted super sexy images, messed with angles and lighting, and tested the limitations of the platform’s titty filters. I shared irreverent memes and told jokes that I couldn’t tell elsewhere. I viewed it like an online seedy sports bar complete with a too-classy-for-this-gin-joint, highly-educated, dripping-with-sarcasm, sophisticated, and voluptuous bartender — namely, me.

I went about interacting, observing, and doing a hell of a lot of writing. Over time, the project became far more textured and complicated than I’d imagined. I found, and lost, a lot of love, was cut and was healed, had a lot of very good and some very bad sex, and received so many unsolicited dick pics that they were pouring from the sky like hot dogs. I had some amazing dates, got some great advice that’s shaped my future, and built my own business. But most of all, I learned about humanity and human connection.

There were over 600 OK Cupid/Instagram suitors at the highest count. I began to let as many of my potential suitors from Instagram into my real life as I could manage. I made self discoveries, but I learned so much about men and dating and tenderness in so many unexpected ways.

But mostly, I built the account to infuse within me the self-confidence to truly, deeply love myself and do awesome journalism, and I’m so proud to tell you that I’ve done both.

I’ve decided that it’s okay if you follow me just to masturbate to my pics. (It is still quite flattering and funny and weird to me, but I support it — You do you. Literally.)

But I also hope you’ll read along as I begin to tell some of my juiciest, sweetest, saddest, happiest, and most meaningful stories of a weird-ass year as a fake Instagram model.

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