Since my divorce, I have avoided online dating sites. I don’t have any moral or philosophical objections; in fact, I think it’s a great way to meet people. However, for whatever reason—fear, lethargy, or possibly pride—I have refused to put myself out there. Recently, however, I was dragged into something akin to online dating, and the results confirmed all of my trepidation about the process.
A good friend of mine met a man through an online service. After they had coffee, they both concluded they weren’t interested in each other. However, she thought he and I would like each other and she authored a digital introduction.
He sent me a lovely email. He sounded nice and intelligent. When I responded, his next email was equally appealing, even talking about what a great story our digital matchmaking might make if we became more serious. I was intrigued but a bit taken aback. We hadn’t even met yet, and he was talking about a future?
But then came the pictures. He sent me a picture of himself and, without giving it much thought, I sent back a snapshot taken on a recent trip. I looked okay, not great, not terrible. I wasn’t wearing a ton of makeup, I hadn’t photoshopped my lines away, I wasn’t wearing a great outfit, but the picture looked like me.
And then, radio silence. I never heard from him again. After that almost too aggressive beginning, he had obviously decided he didn’t even want to meet me. And so, I found myself in the place I hadn’t wanted to be—feeling rejected because of my looks or my age. And frankly, it hurt. I fumed for a few days about how rude it was that he hadn’t even bothered to email me and make up an excuse—something along the lines of “I’m taking a break from dating” or “I met someone else recently and I want to pursue it.” I looked at my picture over and over—was it that off-putting? Did I look unattractive? Did I look old for my age? And I cried a bit as well.
But then, I got mad. Not mad at him (well, okay, a little mad at him, because he was a jerk), but mad at myself. Why was I allowing myself to be defined or become emotional because of a man’s reaction to my picture? Why was I allowing a total stranger to drive me to tears? Why was I even assuming that what had happened had anything to do with me or was somehow my “fault?”
When I’ve spoken to friends about online dating, their inevitable cry is “everyone lies.” People lie about their age, their weight, their interests, pretty much everything. And the fact is, I understand the lies. Because the truth or an honest picture might just mean we don’t get a chance to showcase our real selves. But I think that the true issue here is something deeper. Being pigeonholed, letting others define us, happens all the time. We are defined by our socio-economic status, our zip codes, our education, our job accomplishments, our gender, our looks, and, as I’ve found as I get older, by our age. And perhaps the saddest thing of all is that we pigeonhole ourselves. I do it all the time. I tell myself I’m too old to achieve a dream, or that there’s no time to start that project I’ve been thinking about, or that someone new and special would never want to meet me.
So, perhaps the real lesson from online dating is to not worry so much about how someone else might view us and worry a little more about how we perceive ourselves. Yes, it’s true that I have less time at my age to carve out my future, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try. Yes, it’s true that some of my dreams will never happen (I’m never going to be a professional athlete unless there’s a new sport involving gossip or knowledge of musical theater), but that doesn’t mean I should stop dreaming. Yes, it’s true that I sometimes feel as if my body is betraying me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t exercise or take a walk or at least keep my mind active. And yes, it’s true that I might not meet someone special again, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not fun or attractive or worthy of a relationship.
I don’t know if I’m going to go the online dating route. But I know that if I do, I’m going to try and not take it personally if a stranger doesn’t find me appealing for whatever reason. Because while he might be making a snap and unfair judgment, I’m going to refuse to pigeonhole myself—life’s too short.