On the hunt for a boy named Romeo

If I had more than 280 characters for a Tinder bio it’d surely look something like this:
“My least favorite dating game is the whole “tell me why you’re so interesting/clever/whatthefuckever” (Am I right?). I’m looking for someone to do things that feel good with. Be that, watching animated films or eating ramen at my favorite place downtown or rock climbing or holding hands. I want to learn about new things and try new food and see new places and not spend 2–3 hours with a creepy hand on my knee. I’ll have some chill if you’ll be kind and let’s eat some breakfast food, okay?”

I recently deleted my dating apps and I have three handfuls of reasons why but the biggest is that I kept getting asked, “What are you looking for on [tinder/bumble/penty of fish/whatthefuckever]?” and I had a few rehearsed ‘cool girl’ responses that were mostly vague, open ended, if you will. I refused to answer the question head on and only once did a boy call me on it; He said “I know that we just barely know each other but you don’t really strike me as the kind of person who goes out drinking with tinder boys and never calls them again. What the hell are you doing, Jerah? I have a feeling that you’re better than this”.

So I asked myself, “what the hell AM I looking for? What am I doing?”
And I genuinely did not know. I still don’t.

I do this thing where when someone tells me something about myself, I believe them. When I was 17, someone casually said “You look like the kind of girl who doesn’t really like live music, am I right?” and being the polite little piece of shit that I am, I agreed and believed that he was right. I just recently went to my first concert, ever. At 22. And we were both wrong. So when a stranger made this observation, or assumption, about my dating tendencies and personal habits, I had to make myself stop and actually consider “Am I?” I could be. I could be the kind of person who blocks a number on my way home at 6 am. But the question still stands, what the hell am I actually looking for?

My best friend asked me, too. “Its not that you’re dating. It’s how you’re dating- its so unlike you.” At one point, I was going out on 2–5 dates A WEEK. First dates. I had to give each guy I met an emoji identifier in an attempt to not mix up conversations. I was frantically dating- but I was still going for my runs! I was still “self soothing”. But I was only ever asked on a second date by 3 of the potential suitors I met. I declined one, was ghosted by the next after our second meeting, and have stopped calling them dates with the third. Growing up, I only ever knew conservative Texas church dating: You hang out every other day for 6 -11 months until you’re practically married. And of course, it is better to marry with haste than to burn with passion. I suppose that’s how I am just now actually single for the first time in my life.

My ex is dating. He was dating before the ink dried on our divorce papers- the marrying kind.

When I stopped to think about myself (with the help of my therapist), I discovered that I genuinely believe that I am a kind, generous, adorable human. I think that I’m thoughtful, curious and ~for the record~ I’m a great dancer. When I last spoke to my ex about spending the holidays with his new girlfriend, I said, “I mean, I’m happy for you. It just seems like its getting serious pretty quickly.” / “It is.” was his only reply. Curt and direct and it answered any other question I may have had- the marrying kind. And shortly after nursing my pride, I realized that I was dating to validate all the really great things I believe about myself. Because the last person who believed me left them in a box on my front porch, and now I’m sitting on the floor holding all of these things needing someone new to believe them also to make them true.

It’s lame.

I’ll admit it.

Dating in a world outside of conservative Texas, church world, is a joke. Since my divorce, I’ve only met one half way decent person and he only answered half of my questions. Whats a girl to do?

My problem is that I’m confident enough to text first and bold enough to say “I enjoy getting to know you and would like to see you again, if you are interested”. I have no problem telling people exactly how I feel or what I want; I’ve learned that being so direct comes across as eager and for some unfathomable reason, people will assume that if you’re excited about them, there must be something wrong with you. (HA.) So then, we’re left playing a game. You know, where I read the text 43 seconds after receiving it, because my phone is rarely outside my arms reach, but wait 28 minutes to reply because I’m cool and have other shit to do than answer your reply to the text that I just sent you.

What??

So I deleted the apps. I blocked the numbers and unfriended the snapchats. I quit dating.

“Why not?” An inappropriately curious middle aged man questioned when I told him that I’m currently not dating (actively seeking dates?). And I proceeded to explain that I go to movies alone and go dancing with my friends and am in no way inhibited in doing the things I want to and enjoy because of my lack of male interests. “But what about when you want to go out to dinner? / “I take myself?” / “But with a guy!” / “I don’t want to go out to dinner with any guys that I know” / “What about when you want to cuddle up and watch a movie?”
You can see where this is going.

The first time I told my therapist about my fears of dating, she laughed at me, out loud and hard. “You haven’t even seen the seasons!” And I have loved that thought since she said it. I haven’t even seen the seasons. We talked about the paradox of choice: the more choices we have, the less likely we are to be content with our decision. And the more I think about it, the more I’ve decided that I’m going to date like me. Whatever the hell that means.

I’ll continue being confident and bold and honest. And I’m going to keep buying tickets to concerts of bands I’ve never seen and planning trips I’ve never gone on and holding hands when I get the chance and I’m going to see the seasons. And I’ll get to keep being kind, and generous, and thoughtful, even if no one else believes it. I’m still eating ramen for one and trying to go rock climbing, but I don’t need another body to do things that feel good and it feels good to know that.