Three Days of Internet Dating

I'm not even really sure why I thought it would be a good idea. Scratch that, I didn't think it would be a good idea. As someone who considers herself a vocal feminist as an adult, and as a child who grew up in the Internet age, I knew already that there is almost never any overlap between male strangers online and good ideas. I guess I was bored and I thought a little bit of attention sounded like fun. I don't know. Regardless, I searched the Play Store for a dating app and made myself an account.

The timeline of these exploits is short: a three-day period, spanning from Thursday night through Sunday night, last weekend. I deleted my account and uninstalled the app right before going to bed on Sunday, without any warning to any of the potential "suitors" with whom I'd been chatting. Yeah, I'm a cold-blooded heartbreaker. I figured it was the best way to end my little curiosity-turned-social-experiment.

My experience in the world of online dating brought with it some of the gross things I had anticipated, but it also opened even my know-it-all eyes to some positive encounters that I hadn't expected. I didn't sign up for it with any intention whatsoever of writing about it afterward. That thought occurred to me later, after I'd begun to receive some of these interesting messages from strangers. I've saved screenshots of parts of my experience, and I guess I perceive it as an archive. I'd like to share a narrative of my adventure, and reflect upon the lessons I've taken away from it. I've classified the strangers into distinct categories, which I'll explain along the way.

First, let's take a look at my own stats. Here's the data I entered for my own account on the app:

  

I tried to fill in the data as honestly as possible, but I also wanted to cast a large net and see what I got in return. So as not to isolate anyone or make myself a target for trolls, I refrained from plastering "I LOVE FEMINISM" all over the place. For equal opportunity, I checked the boxes for both men and women and I chose every option for "interested in" except for long-term relationships, because ew. And boy, did I yield some fascinating results. (I knew from the very beginning that I was never going to meet up with any of these people in person, because I have watched way too much television and I'm a little paranoid. So I felt totally safe to be as bold as possible from the safety of my keyboard.)

Out of over 200 messages through this three-day period, only two women messaged me (both were very kind and much less aggressive than the men). The rest were heterosexual cisgender men, and I would estimate that approximately 90% of them were white. The remaining 10% were composed of Hispanic or African American men, and I didn't attract a single Asian. (It is important to note that I did answer a question about the importance of dating within my own race at the beginning of the process, and I elected that race did not matter.)

Below are the images I uploaded to my profile, all five of which came from my Instagram. I am about 99% certain that this little sociological observation of mine wouldn't have happened had it not been for what I call the Pretty Principle. Basically, in a society as stuck on physical appearance as ours, there come certain privileges with possessing the physical characteristics that society tells us are most valuable (whiteness, thinness, blue eyes, blonde hair, clear skin, new clothes, etc.) Now, that's not to say that the people who possess those traits are doing so for the simple purpose of benefiting from them. They are oftentimes just simple genetic phenotypes over which the person had no control. But, that does not mean the person does not derive (intentionally or not) certain benefits from possessing them. I have blonde hair and blue eyes. I enjoy curling my hair and wearing makeup.

I like to take selfies when I feel pretty (as defined by myself, but influenced by the values of Western culture), and I have enough confidence that I do not need someone else to tell me I'm pretty; I already know it. These things being the case, I can't help but wonder: what might my online dating experience have been like if I had not uploaded these specific images? What if I had portrayed my online persona as someone else, without these highly-valued traits for which so many people swiped right? They never would've made it to my profile to read the things I typed (out of my heart and brain) if they hadn't initially seen the image of my face to lure them there in the first place. It's more than enough to make one ponder the unjust ramifications of physical appearance. But, this is what I look like, so this is the (privileged) experience I live; and as such, this is the online persona I translated from real life into cyberspace. I uploaded five photos, typed some stuff into the profile, and waited for the boys to come to me. I never sent a single message first. That is the Pretty Principle. (Also patriarchy that says boys are the ones to pursue girls, but whatevs.)

However, some guys were stumped by my being pretty and also having a brain:

I assume it's part of the dichotomous system in which our entire world operates. You know, the one where everyone is allowed to fit into only one box out of two? (Pretty OR intriguing, virgin OR whore, boy OR girl, democrat OR republican...) There are never more than two options, and a person can certainly never have qualities of both.

Compliments on my physical appearance have always been secondary in value for me. I just feel like I have much more control over my actions, my beliefs, and who I am as a person, than I do over which genes manifested themselves on my face. That's why I like it much more when someone tells me I'm smart or nice or brave, than when they say I'm pretty. (Again with the dichotomies.) So I couldn't help but chuckle at the guy who thought this was a good initial message, as if I would be tripping over my feet to reply:

And these guys, whose sheepishness was probably supposed to be part of their charm:

 

(I do hear it a lot, but that doesn't mean your self-deprecation is attractive, nor that you shouldn't have confidence in your statements.)

Some of the pickup lines I received actually made me laugh quite a bit. (I love corny pickup lines, but I didn't tell any of them that.)

This guy who totally appealed to my white girl love of FRIENDS. (I read his pickup line in Joey's voice in my head.)

And this dude whose match criteria included Rod Stewart:

But this one made me scratch my head the most, by far:

But then there were these boys who all basically decided we were perfect matches. (Spoiler: no, we're not.)

At least that one dude didn't like dichotomies, I guess. The third dude told me he was going to cry after I read his messages and didn't respond. (Because guilting a woman into chatting with you by sarcastically telling her you're going to cry is a healthy way to start any relationship, and it's definitely void of any kind of power struggle.)

Some guys took this whole online dating thing way too seriously:

"Personal defensive tools" or just being a douche? You decide.

Some of these men were pretty persistent and just would not leave me alone. I initially replied to some of them, then they wouldn't stop bothering me. But even if I didn't respond, some guys just kept sending me messages, like maybe I'd change my mind:

 

What is a woman supposed to take away from these kinds of interactions? I can deduce that these men have learned that complimenting a woman on her physical appearance right from the beginning will improve their chances with her. Just keep complimentin' until she likes something you said! (Pro tip: maybe you shouldn't say "I'm bored" in the first sentence.)

However, these two dudes were particularly creepy to me. They're good examples of why the "Block" button was invented. The first guy got upset with me because I responded to his message before I went to work (for a measly three hours!) but then I stopped replying to him while I was clocked in. GASP. That guy, in specific, really ticked me off. But the second man, he just kept messaging me with more and more disgusting, unsolicited detail and he was one of the reasons why I was very pleased to delete my account at the end of all this. What makes a person think they can talk to someone like this? I was clearly not responding. That means stop. If the person you're chatting with is responding with anything else besides positive feedback (like an affirmative yes), or not responding at all, that means stop. Seem a little rapey to anyone else, or is that just me?

This is why it's important to stress not that "no means no," but that "only yes means yes."

HE MESSAGED ME 46 TIMES. We're strangers. He's older than me. He has no right to harass me in such a way. LEAVE ME ALONE.And then there were these guys who were much more direct with what they really wanted: 

Sounds like I could star in my own Fifty Shades of Grey movie if I really wanted to. Thanks, Dudes of the Internet.

But, no, I'm not interested in trading any pics.

And, no, I do not want to meet you, either.

The last three were from the same guy.

These men are all much more of the age to be best buds with my father than to have any business messaging me on an online dating site:

I just turned 21.

I also noticed that mentioning anything at all in my profile about speaking or studying French got me some predictable responses:

This (American) guy's initial message was asking me how I am today in French. He even told me I am a "very interesting person :)".

This Wichitan asked me if I would like to dance with him, then he told me he loved me. (To be fair, he claimed he didn't know what it meant, and I sort of believed him.)

But this guy! He was French and he lived in France and I really just can't help myself when it comes to speaking French with the natives. All bets were off. I had a genuine conversation with him. (Take note, Internet creeps. Alyssa is a sucker for the foreigners.) He told me he thought I must have a pretty accent when I speak French. *fangirl squeal* (I don't; it sounds awful. But he doesn't know that.)

Harry Potter was also a hot topic of conversation. And to be honest, I could talk about Harry Potter with just about anyone.

 

I'm actually a little disappointed I didn't get any "mind if I slither-in" jokes, now that I think about it. I have higher expectations from the Potter fandom.

And, of course, the one section in my profile where I said "feminist" did draw me a little bit of attention. Though thankfully, it wasn't too terrible, and of course, I know better than to reply to Internet trolls on a dating app.

This was this dude's actual picture. A photo of him holding a gun with his face whited out. I wonder what his views of feminism are...

This adorably original troll.

This guy who told me he considers himself a part of the first wave of feminism because he considers it to have the least amount of "female entitlement"... whatever that means.

This dude who got a legitimate round of Emoji applause from me for his apparent understanding of boundaries and consent.

And this fella who was legitimately stumped by me and my response to the following question:

I wish real life interactions with other people had settings like this, where I could answer a question for myself, choose which answer I wanted the other person to have, rank it in order of its importance, and calculate a compatibility percentage as a result. For all types of relationships. Seems like that'd save a lot of wasted time.

And, out of all the messages I received, I did get to chat with at least two genuinely nice people:

I'm not sure exactly what I expected to get out of such an experience. Like I said, I didn't intend to write about it. But after about a day's worth of solicitation and pickup lines, I couldn't not do it. I got the attention I wanted, and then some. But after three days of exhaustion from having to keep all the different boys straight and making sure to reply to them all when they messaged me, I decided the online dating life is not for me.

My opinions of online dating haven't really changed from what they were before I did this. I've always thought of the idea of "falling in love" with someone on eHarmony or Match or even BlackPeopleMeet.com sounds ridiculous. If it works for you, then more power to you. But personally, I believe it's nothing more than a capitalistic opportunity for businesses to profit from during the Internet Age, due to everyone's desire to be loved. But maybe I'm just a cynic.

I was certainly not looking for romance, nor did I expect to find any. If anything, this little adventure of mine has just made me appreciate my free singledom so much more. A lesson I have learned in the last year of my life is that there is a profound difference between being "single and ready to mingle" and being single for yourself, by yourself. They're worlds apart and the implications are different for everyone. "Playing the field" for three days exhausted me. I just simply do not care enough to try to keep up superficial conversation with strangers about small talk and things that don't really matter to me. To me, the definition of being single is that your time isn't obligated to anyone else, and you don't need to spend every waking hour with your cell phone in your hand, and your eyes glued to it. Singledom is about independence and self-discovery, being resourceful for yourself and resilient in your own interpersonal growth. And I experienced absolutely none of that during this three-day period. I felt stress to keep people's lives straight, pressure to reply on time, and annoyance and the constant onslaught of online patriarchy I'd come to expect... Certainly not the self-sovereign feeling I've come to know and love.

So, on Sunday night, shortly before I turned out my bedside lamp, rolled over and went to bed, I deleted my account and uninstalled the app from my phone. I felt a little bit bad about it for the handful of dudes who were actually pretty nice. I was just going to disappear into cyberspace and they were never going to hear from me again. I imagined I could hear the sound of hearts breaking as I became an electronic ghost to them. We had a splendid three days, but I guess that's all it was meant to be. Some of the boys were from Wichita, and I hope I don't ever run into them face-to-face, or worse, have them in class next semester. Can you say A-W-K-W-A-R-D? Oh well. What's meant to be, will be. There is something to be learned from every experience in life, and I don't think this one was without value for me. That being said, I certainly don't think I will ever want or need to do it again. Once was enough. And if I can learn something, possibly help teach others, and even chat with some new friends along the way, then I call it a successful lesson in life.

So for now, that's the end of this love story. I've got more important things to do.