There was only one tick. I close the app and reopen the app. Still one tick. I check my service, two bars. That must be it, so I move around the bedroom… a ha! four bars! I close the app, reopen the app, close my eyes, click my heels three times…still one tick. Jesus!!!!
I enter the living room, rescuing my face out the vortex of my phone into which it was sucked. When freed from the virtual insanity, I remember I’m in the company of actual human beings. Not only are they human beings but they are ones who love me and want to spend time with me. They give me that knowing sigh. The sigh that gives me the same feeling when they tell me they’re disappointed in me, not angry, just disappointed. I hang my head in shame, not just to appease them but also in embarrassment as I realise I am obsessing about this someone, a virtual being, whom I have never met.
I melt into the chair in an attempt to disappear from their glare and feign interest in the conversation all around. I nod and tilt my head much like a puppy when it tries to understand a command. I say nothing but I’m sure to hide my phone and give them my full, undivided attention until the scrutiny of my poor etiquette dies down. Try as I might to stay to focussed on them, my mind lets me down. I cannot shake the utter shock of potentially being blocked by a complete stranger who doesn’t even know me - what could I have possibly done?
Why aren’t there two ticks? Why haven’t they turned blue? Could he have blocked me already? Nah!
Is it possible I can now revolt the opposite sex with just one photo? I had been talking to this guy for almost a week and it had been going well. We had exchanged headshots as if it were proof of not catfishing each other, the irony being we still could have been. We had shared our preferences to date and he asked what I liked sexually. That’s the thing about online dating, it is never organic. It’s like the more anonymous we are, the more over planned it becomes. He pre-ordered what he wanted from the sexual menu, the personality menu and the looks menu and I half-heartedly did the same. A hardened online dater never commits too much to anything as it often ends in nothing, not a date, worse still, not even a reply.
So just like a restaurant, not everything he wants to order is available on the menu. How do you tell a prospective date that you have a wooden leg, an eye patch or god forbid a Rubenesque frame? It’s not easy. What descriptive do you use to avoid connotations of lazy, couch potato, massive cake consumer? I’ve tried chunky- too reminiscent of a Kit Kat. Cuddly- try not to think of a bear! Voluptuous- too many vowels and causes too many follow up questions. Curvy- he asks if he is going to get travel sick following the curves of my body. Fat- just leads to an immediate block and gives me no fighting chance. So I decided on a pragmatic approach- send a photo. A good photo. One shot at a decent angle to avoid double chins and too many layers, however true to life. Me, in colour, flaws and all (with a bit of good lighting). I hold my breath, hit send, and wait.
Quickly and to my surprise, his response reads “ looking good”. I breathe out.
“ So you like?”
Nothing.
I think maybe he is busy, it is a Friday night after all. Be cool I tell myself. I head out for the night for drinks with my friend trying to not read too much into the lack of reply.
The next morning the sound of neighbours arguing wakes me. Hungover, with a tongue so dry it needs prised from the roof of my mouth, I check my WhatsApp. Nothing. The confusion sets in. If he doesn’t like me then he just has to say. He can unashamedly tell me he wants me to twist his nipples, but being honest about not being into me requires balls he appears not to possess. I know that this is the end, but something in me needs to know for sure, so I type:
“?”
One tick appears. One grey tick. The kiss of death for any online romance. No justification or polite let down. Just an icy, grey tick.
When did we become so cold? When did we forget that there is another person on the end of that text? When did we become so cheap that we can‘t even afford to be considerate?
“You listening?!”
Suddenly I’m back in the room with the people who want to talk to me and I’m not even listening. The smell of irony is ripe. When did I forget to be considerate and actually be present in the company of the real people who have taken the time to get to know me? They have chosen to spend time with me and I owe them my time and my attention.
The one tick neurosis of online dating is real but the antidote lies in remembering that real human beings are better than virtual ones.
Comments