This story is 99% true. As I scramble to find a new technical cofounder for my startup, I wanted to share a bit of my online dating history and psychological backstory to why I am incredibly adamant on changing the way people meet, date, and fall in love.

I submitted this essay as a final paper for a writing class at Columbia University. When my professor asked me why I had chosen to detail such a personal story, I grinned and spouted William Congreve from the corner of my mouth, “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”

To which he responded, “Revenge is a perfectly legitimate motive.”

May 6, 2010

Hey,

It’s been a few weeks since we last spoke, and for good reason too. I think the space apart has given us a good amount of time to reflect on what we both want in our lives, and whether or not we want to move forward with this relationship. So I thought I was going to say “hi” to you on Facebook today, and then I realized you had deleted me. I wonder what I did to warrant that.

I understand the way we met through Match.com was unconventional. You had expressed you never tried online dating before, and I hadn’t either. I thought it would be fun for us to take the leap into the unknown together. As much as it was fun, I have to admit it was a little bit awkward speaking to you through Facebook Chat for the first week or so because the only things we knew about each other were from our profiles online.

When you gave me your number to text you, you told me that it would be a more convenient way to get a hold of you. And although I usually apply the Three Day Rule — where I don’t reply to a text until 3 days later in order to keep the guy guessing — I was into you, and I wanted you to know that, so I replied to you in a reasonable amount of time every single time you texted me. Our texts eventually became really sexual, and it was fun and thrilling to know you had a way with words — and pictures — to get me excited about finally meeting you.

When we first met, you were much shorter in person. Much shorter than I had expected, and much shorter than any other guy I have ever dated in my entire life. I guess I didn’t really understand what “5’7” on a dating profile meant until I stood in front of you to kiss you. And as we kissed, the only thoughts running through my mind was how you looked much taller in your profile picture, and how much my back kind of hurt from crouching because my 4-inch stiletto heels made me considerably taller than you.

I didn’t go home with you that night because I didn’t want to seem like I was a complete slut to meet someone online, go for a date, and then go home with them. It just wasn’t my style. Don’t get me wrong, you’re very sexy, in a younger, mini-President Obama sort of way, but going home with a guy on the first date isn’t my style. Even though we were very sexual with each other through the phone and text messages, I still couldn’t come to terms with breaking my dating rules. When I went home that night, I thought you understood that, and we were still on good terms since you expressed you wanted to see me again. Apparently, that was not the case.

I was hurt when you texted me you didn’t think it would work out between us. I appreciated the honesty, but at least you could have picked up the phone to speak to me rather than send me a text message. It was cold and heartless, and I felt completely confused having thought we were still on good terms. Clearly I was wrong.

I was somewhat surprised that you didn’t immediately delete me off of Facebook. You were dumb to think I was mature and didn’t talk about you behind your back. Of course I talked about you — I still do. I talk about you to my friends, my family, my Math tutor, my students, everyone. Even homeless people I’ve met at the bus stop know about you. Our story is all over my Facebook, that’s the beauty of granular privacy settings. Even though we are friends, I can update my status completely trashing you, and you would never know because I could block you from that particular status. For example, I updated my status describing how your teeth looked and felt like they were under-developed when I kissed you, and that I never again, would date a guy with baby teeth. The only reason why you saw that was because I forgot to set the privacy on that update, and it went into your news feed. That’s why I lied to you about that status update not being about you, even though it was. I lashed out my frustration onto my Facebook because if I had to lower my standards to date you, and then get dumped by you, my entire network should know how much of a low self-esteem, self-absorbed son of a bitch you were.

The fact that I still had access to your profile made me crazier than ever. Despite choosing to hide you from my news feed, so that I could no longer view activity updates from you, I visited your profile over 30 times a day. I clicked refresh incessantly. I wanted to know what your status updates were, where you were, who you were with, what you were doing. Every time I went to your profile, I’d read your “About Me” section over and over. I can recite from memory your interests, favorite music and television shows, where you’re from, and where you went to high school and college. Every time you added a new friend, I would check to see if it was a man or woman. And if it was a woman, I would go to her profile and from her profile picture, would determine whether or not she was prettier than me. If she was, my face would flush with anger. But if she wasn’t, I’d feel a little happier because I was way better than the ugly whores you could, or could not, have been dating.

I became utterly obsessed, and I would be lying if I told you this obsession only happened after our first break-up. When we chatted in the beginning, you told me you were a doctor, and I immediately Googled you. I looked for anything under your full name, the medical school you said you graduated from, and checked to see if you were board certified to practice medical surgery. Some people may feel that this is crazy, but in this day and age, whether you meet someone online or in a bar or library, people can tell you anything. And I didn’t want to be taken for a fool, thinking you were a doctor when you weren’t. You could have been a high school drop-out for all I knew.

We’ve been on and off like this for the past 4 months, and while you have been driving me completely insane, I have come to terms with myself that we are just casual. Don’t get me wrong, I am still obsessive, but I now accept the situation for what it is. This is why throughout this entire time, I never asked you for a relationship, and I never acted like a psycho that needed your attention all the time. I never acted like I wanted to be more than what you wanted, which from all of your actions and signs, told me you didn’t want a relationship — with me, anyway. I knew you were talking or seeing other girls. I’m not stupid or delusional, and dating other people is totally fine. People date around, I date around, it’s normal. But even after what happened, I still thought that we were chill or could be friends.

Then, I saw that you tried to talk to me on Instant Messenger last Sunday, and the reason why I didn’t respond was because I wasn’t in front of my computer. Maybe you felt like you wanted to tell me something, or tell me that you weren’t interested in or wanted to see me anymore. I would have been fine with that. And then afterwards, when I tried to talk to you, you acted like you wanted space, so I gave you space. I knew you had a lot of things going on, so I didn’t want to push something out of nothing, or make you feel pressured that I wanted to be in a relationship with you. Then later, you started avoiding me and stopped talking to me altogether, so I assumed you didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I eventually left you alone.

Did it hurt? It did because you made me feel like I was 17 and confused again. I constantly felt insecure because I never knew what you were thinking. I cared more about you than I ever have with anyone in a long time. I’d see you online on Facebook or Instant Messenger every single day, and it hurt me to know that you never wanted to talk to me, not even as a friend. I felt worthless in a sense and became very sad. I tried hard not to show you because I knew it would just make you feel uncomfortable and distance yourself further from me.

While I think it was smart of me to never show you the psychotic side of me until now, I’m tired of the games. I’m tired of leaving you voicemails for you to call me back; waiting 2–3 days for you to reply to my text messages; interpreting your cryptic status updates: Is it about me? Is it not? Is it about another girl? Most importantly, I’m tired of trying to be logical over a situation that is entirely illogical. I barely talked to you these past few weeks, and then you deleted me. You probably think it’s not a big deal, but the mental process to actually delete someone from Facebook is quite complicated. What if we became friends again? Would you add me back? What if I wanted to add you back, but you block me? It’s weird, but whatever. If you’ve read this far, I want you to know that I understand if you don’t feel like replying. I just want you to know how I feel.

- Ranee

P.S. The text I sent you yesterday about wanting my bra back was not a ploy for me to go back to your apartment. It was a 300€ La Perla bra that came in a two-piece set. So either you take it off your chest, or courier that shit back.