It was late and I was bored…

I swore I wouldn’t do it, but it was late and I was bored. I filled out the questionnaire, clicked a few buttons, and voila, I was the newest member of a dating site. Didn’t I just finish a video interview where I basically told the world I would never do this? Oh well, I guess we’re all entitled to change our minds.

I didn’t come to my “no online dating EVER” decree with no experience in the matter. Prior to meeting my husband, I had a slew of dates and a few boyfriends from the online set, but most of those situations were less than great experiences. Not only could I not imagine going through the turmoil I had experienced ever again, but I felt literally sick at the prospect of doing so. 

But like I said, it was late, I was bored, and I was curious who was out there. 

I deliberated between the options of Divorced or Separated for my status. I settled on Separated since that was the current truth, although the divorced title was getting closer and closer each day. Waiting for it to arrive felt like standing with my feet in the ocean, watching a swell coming in and waiting for a wave to come knock me off my feet and drag me underwater. But, the reality was, that wave hadn’t bowled me over yet, so I couldn’t select it as my identity. I selected “separated” and sighed. What kind of guy would be interested in a woman who was, basically, still married? Ugh. No matter, I determined. This isn’t about finding someone now anyway. I just want to see what options are out there when “D” day does arrive. 

I started to browse through the matches that the algorithm decided would be good choices for me. I began to hyperventilate. The site I signed up for was of the generous sort and gave me two whole days of “free” (and yes, scare quotes are absolutely necessary) access and started browsing. This free access basically allowed me to read profiles, but the photos were all blurred out so I couldn’t see anyone’s face. You read that right. They blurred out the photos of my potential matches. Talk about a UX nightmare. 

As I scrolled through blurry photo after blurry photo I started to feel sicker and sicker. Was this what my life has come to? I read a few profiles. Not one match. Not one glimmer of hope. Instead my dread only grew stronger. Seriously, what was I doing? Did I really, at 40 years old, want to be competing with 30 year olds for the same small pool of semi-decent 50-60+ year olds? Did I really want to risk the chance that I could be setting myself up for a disaster again? Years of wasted time? I started to hyperventilate. No, this is not what is meant for me. I had my chance at love and I chose poorly. When you’re middle-aged and divorced maybe love isn’t sorry, thanks for playing, please try again, but more like game over, you’re out of tokens, please find your way to the nearest exit. I had my chance. I made a bad choice.  

Nevertheless, I kept scrolling. My eyes searched for hope in a sea of muted faces that looked like they were 30 feet underwater, and my anxiety started to grow with each flick of my wrist. 

Just as quickly as my profile was set up on the site, I took it down. I clicked the button to permanently delete myself from the website. This was not for me. 

I had known it when I first logged in. I knew it as I logged out. 

At this point, I don’t know what the future holds for me. Maybe I’ll meet someone someday, or maybe I’ll end up the Protestant version of a nun. Only God knows what my future holds, and I’m learning to be ok with that. 

What I do know is that I’m not ready to join any online dating sites. Will that change in the future? Probably not. But I guess there’s always a chance.