They want the shape of the woman and not the interior. Beautifully crafted sentence and fucking sad. And a general indictment. This piece is beautiful in its resignation.
“Once he realized I was, in fact, who I said I was, he became almost maddening. He did that thing vulnerable men sometimes do. He pulled away, turned cold, and tried to belittle me just enough to feel bigger.” — my girlfriend had shared this experience of online dating with me many times.
I've read and watched some of your videos about your dating horror stories, and as someone about to return to the dating pool after a long absence, I admit I'm daunted. It does seem like it should be easy to meet someone - a few someones, even. Get to know each other and see how it goes. But everything is pushed into a corner and distorted. The promise of being online and having global reach is shattered by the pretzel you have to twist yourself into to appeal to people. It seems like it's almost impossible to just be yourself.
I’m not famous but even with my very small following I have had some strange experiences, with dating and dm’s. So much so that I haven’t dated in a year and at this point I don’t want to do anything where my face/body are visible. Here’s the really funny part- I used to be trophy wife hot, and in recovering from all that pressure and pretending, I decided I needed to allow myself to be ugly. Which to me really just meant show us as I am, no makeup or trends. I’m 41, and I still get…well call it unwanted attention.
Years ago, in a fog of loneliness no doubt, I joined an online dating site. I had to do that awful profile thing, the one where they encourage you to lie. Athletic? Squat? We all know which one I chose.
But the worst of it wasn’t anyone out there - it was me: the fact that one day I caught myself scrolling past women who didn’t fit some inner identikit running the erotic algorithm of my own brain.
I remember that hour. How I stopped myself, suddenly, realising what I was doing; how I was turning all these women into commodities and bar-coded moments. I felt a wave of disgust. Followed by a tsunami of self-amusement - the joke was on me. I didn’t renew my membership.
A mate of mine use to date online all the time. It never worked out. Everyone he met was just like him, looking for a winning ticket in the love lottery. Sex was always hovering somewhere in the background - and foreground - like the gluttonous blow fly it often is. But that didn’t work out either - even when they worked out.
The thing about love is its immunity to algorithms. Because love is luck squared; it’s a random mutation that can only really prosper with time and effort and staying power. First, you need the luck. Then you need to hang around long enough for the luck to turn into depth. And depth takes time and commitment and vulnerability. It also demands tolerance to mutual madness and the daily rigmarole of being here on earth.
I used to think a catfish was a weird fish. It most definitely is. But in the internet’s depthless depths all kinds of strange critters stir. The fact that many of these men googled you is in itself historical. A new invention. Because it wouldn’t have happened years before the internet spawned. Once upon a time there were no libraries archiving the ordinary men and women of this world. No one would have ever thought of it. So that’s another thing the internet has taken from us - the mystery of the other.
Social media and dating apps are a ‘shortcut’. Shortcuts to find quality people are not reliable. And in this age of deception at every turn, neither end of the connection can be certain of the other’s authenticity. I never met you, nor saw your persona before. You just showed up on my Substack suggestion list for some reason. I visited your profile, and picked an article of interest. If you (or anyone) wants to meet a nice gentleman, of integrity and depth, you’ll have to pay the wages of time and disappointment in real environments. You need a check lists of ‘likes’, ‘hopes’, and ‘deal-breakers’ - but be flexible enough to compromise - for few of us genuine humans can check every box. A match awaits you, but he must naturally prove himself worthy of you, first as a reliable friend, NOT lover - passion distorts honest perception - and bring the needs and wants you deserve…you must meet the same measure for him as well. This evaluation process is time-consuming…but worthy of the investment in yourself. Are you not worth it? Just meet him in a habitat of mutual interest, where people of like-stripes reveal themselves without motive or agenda.
Every woman I ever met, taught me something about myself, what I wanted, what I didn’t want, and how to improve myself. Equally, it was an opportunity in every case to hear a new story, and admire another person. Even to fall short of each other’s desire, a valued new friend was the hopeful reward. I never expected more from them, but to be authentic once the initial awkward stage had passed between us. With this perspective, the search always felt rewarding.
You indeed can realize the same. He is as near as but the next greeting…or maybe a few between now and then. But you will find each other.
I’m sorry you have to go through all of that. Internet dating and all that goes with it sounds horrible enough, and having people using your image to scam people on top of that must add another level of insanity. Best of luck to you and I hope find your person soon.
I read the first two paragraphs. Whoever did that to you is dickless and weak and pathetic. Only a fucking loser would torment you. And as for the cretins who are happy to jack off to an AI body—well, I mean I guess it tracks since the only way they’ve seen a real woman’s body is by some kind of deceit or like my ex—manipulating a vulnerable woman in her worst time. Ewe. So sorry. Incels are fucking losers. I don’t even reply anymore.
This was really well-written and I'm so sorry you've been through all that. The part about the man who was disappointed you weren't AI was weirdly unsurprising. Parasocial relationships are odd.
Your past shouldn’t dictate any date nor relationship immediate red flag. How does one remain an individual in an online world? We need the dimensional aspect to get to know each other.
This is hard for me to get. I don’t know how you meet people because you didn’t clarify that but if they didn’t have your full name they wouldn’t be able to search you. I think that’s a weird way to go on a first date when people snoop and use that information. It was a joke in Groundhog Day but when she finds out he’s mining data on her she’s not too happy. This is an interesting set of experiences to read about and in a world with so many people heavily into social media I still dont know how common it is. But I think the reality is you just need to cycle through more frogs. You’re a beautiful girl and obviously bright so if you’re really interested in connecting with a good guy that’s right for you you will.
They want the shape of the woman and not the interior. Beautifully crafted sentence and fucking sad. And a general indictment. This piece is beautiful in its resignation.
“Once he realized I was, in fact, who I said I was, he became almost maddening. He did that thing vulnerable men sometimes do. He pulled away, turned cold, and tried to belittle me just enough to feel bigger.” — my girlfriend had shared this experience of online dating with me many times.
I've read and watched some of your videos about your dating horror stories, and as someone about to return to the dating pool after a long absence, I admit I'm daunted. It does seem like it should be easy to meet someone - a few someones, even. Get to know each other and see how it goes. But everything is pushed into a corner and distorted. The promise of being online and having global reach is shattered by the pretzel you have to twist yourself into to appeal to people. It seems like it's almost impossible to just be yourself.
I’m not famous but even with my very small following I have had some strange experiences, with dating and dm’s. So much so that I haven’t dated in a year and at this point I don’t want to do anything where my face/body are visible. Here’s the really funny part- I used to be trophy wife hot, and in recovering from all that pressure and pretending, I decided I needed to allow myself to be ugly. Which to me really just meant show us as I am, no makeup or trends. I’m 41, and I still get…well call it unwanted attention.
I hear you!
wow! incredibly well written and kinda scary
Years ago, in a fog of loneliness no doubt, I joined an online dating site. I had to do that awful profile thing, the one where they encourage you to lie. Athletic? Squat? We all know which one I chose.
But the worst of it wasn’t anyone out there - it was me: the fact that one day I caught myself scrolling past women who didn’t fit some inner identikit running the erotic algorithm of my own brain.
I remember that hour. How I stopped myself, suddenly, realising what I was doing; how I was turning all these women into commodities and bar-coded moments. I felt a wave of disgust. Followed by a tsunami of self-amusement - the joke was on me. I didn’t renew my membership.
A mate of mine use to date online all the time. It never worked out. Everyone he met was just like him, looking for a winning ticket in the love lottery. Sex was always hovering somewhere in the background - and foreground - like the gluttonous blow fly it often is. But that didn’t work out either - even when they worked out.
The thing about love is its immunity to algorithms. Because love is luck squared; it’s a random mutation that can only really prosper with time and effort and staying power. First, you need the luck. Then you need to hang around long enough for the luck to turn into depth. And depth takes time and commitment and vulnerability. It also demands tolerance to mutual madness and the daily rigmarole of being here on earth.
I used to think a catfish was a weird fish. It most definitely is. But in the internet’s depthless depths all kinds of strange critters stir. The fact that many of these men googled you is in itself historical. A new invention. Because it wouldn’t have happened years before the internet spawned. Once upon a time there were no libraries archiving the ordinary men and women of this world. No one would have ever thought of it. So that’s another thing the internet has taken from us - the mystery of the other.
Social media and dating apps are a ‘shortcut’. Shortcuts to find quality people are not reliable. And in this age of deception at every turn, neither end of the connection can be certain of the other’s authenticity. I never met you, nor saw your persona before. You just showed up on my Substack suggestion list for some reason. I visited your profile, and picked an article of interest. If you (or anyone) wants to meet a nice gentleman, of integrity and depth, you’ll have to pay the wages of time and disappointment in real environments. You need a check lists of ‘likes’, ‘hopes’, and ‘deal-breakers’ - but be flexible enough to compromise - for few of us genuine humans can check every box. A match awaits you, but he must naturally prove himself worthy of you, first as a reliable friend, NOT lover - passion distorts honest perception - and bring the needs and wants you deserve…you must meet the same measure for him as well. This evaluation process is time-consuming…but worthy of the investment in yourself. Are you not worth it? Just meet him in a habitat of mutual interest, where people of like-stripes reveal themselves without motive or agenda.
Every woman I ever met, taught me something about myself, what I wanted, what I didn’t want, and how to improve myself. Equally, it was an opportunity in every case to hear a new story, and admire another person. Even to fall short of each other’s desire, a valued new friend was the hopeful reward. I never expected more from them, but to be authentic once the initial awkward stage had passed between us. With this perspective, the search always felt rewarding.
You indeed can realize the same. He is as near as but the next greeting…or maybe a few between now and then. But you will find each other.
I’m sorry you have to go through all of that. Internet dating and all that goes with it sounds horrible enough, and having people using your image to scam people on top of that must add another level of insanity. Best of luck to you and I hope find your person soon.
Men are pigs and women are neurotic.
I read the first two paragraphs. Whoever did that to you is dickless and weak and pathetic. Only a fucking loser would torment you. And as for the cretins who are happy to jack off to an AI body—well, I mean I guess it tracks since the only way they’ve seen a real woman’s body is by some kind of deceit or like my ex—manipulating a vulnerable woman in her worst time. Ewe. So sorry. Incels are fucking losers. I don’t even reply anymore.
This was really well-written and I'm so sorry you've been through all that. The part about the man who was disappointed you weren't AI was weirdly unsurprising. Parasocial relationships are odd.
Yawn. Navel gazing.
Your past shouldn’t dictate any date nor relationship immediate red flag. How does one remain an individual in an online world? We need the dimensional aspect to get to know each other.
This is hard for me to get. I don’t know how you meet people because you didn’t clarify that but if they didn’t have your full name they wouldn’t be able to search you. I think that’s a weird way to go on a first date when people snoop and use that information. It was a joke in Groundhog Day but when she finds out he’s mining data on her she’s not too happy. This is an interesting set of experiences to read about and in a world with so many people heavily into social media I still dont know how common it is. But I think the reality is you just need to cycle through more frogs. You’re a beautiful girl and obviously bright so if you’re really interested in connecting with a good guy that’s right for you you will.
Sounds like you need to date someone who has never heard of you.
Someone stole my face once to catfish old ladies. Then I stole my mom's face to catfish him back. Things got weird after that.