If, when we started, I had known what would have ended up happening, I have no doubts that I would not have acted as I did. I would not have joined any apps. But since I did what I did and I have come through it and am on this side, when people ask, do you regret it? I’ve thought a lot about it… there are certain moments when I regret it, when I wish I could take it back, when I wish I didn’t know anybody I know now who I didn’t know then; but mostly, I’m glad I met the people I did. I’ve gone through a lot of new emotions—nuances on feelings I thought I might recognize but which I can’t name, parts of me that I didn’t know had the capacity to feel having felt something extraordinary for the first time in my life, a depth that I hadn’t known before, either, a new depth of feelings I’d felt before… I can’t regret that I learned these things. 

Not long ago—I remember quite clearly being nineteen and having the thought occur to me that it didn’t matter if my own life amounted to anything (or nothing) because I’d trade my life in a second for the ability to write well, to write a good story. I went on to pursue that interest until it became obsession and I no longer considered my life as my own—I belonged to writing, to the story I’d someday write. Though I have reoriented my thinking after these four months, and have reminded myself that I still feel this way, that I belong to writing, that what I want more than anything is to be a writer, to write well, to produce something good, new, and interesting, to the best degree that I can possibly do any thing—this whole experience, this whole “dating app experiment,” made me think differently than all that…selfishly. For the first time in four years I coveted my own experiences and my own future. Those feelings startled me. 

When we started all of this…I’m not sure why, but my guard was down. I was open to all the feelings that I eventually developed, I wasn’t guarded against anything, and when I felt things that confused me, I simply allowed that, without letting my questions or concern or wonder stifle what was growing in me. I had always, previously, been so careful—guard up, dukes up, as a rule. It was just the way I lived. I don’t know why in April, I wasn’t living that way. So, because I was caught off-guard and because I wasn’t being careful not to let this happen—I admit that for the first time, I grew to like somebody. I’m now… afraid to let that happen again. Now that I know what I’m capable of feeling, I have to be careful about occasioning those feelings again.

I used to believe in living completely honestly, and in sharing my feelings because I thought it was best to be clear, to give information so that people around me could make meaningful decisions. Now that I’m leaving in a few weeks, and it seems that now would be the time to air some things that are on and have been on my mind—I’ve had to reassess whether I still feel this way. I think I’ve really changed. Before, I would just say what I wanted to or get a last word in because I felt it was right, and that then I’d be able to leave knowing that I said everything I wanted to, so I wouldn’t regret it later. But after these months and after battling my own heart and my own feelings… I don’t think I believe in that anymore. Whether or not someone wants to know, or wants to hear what you have to say…that seems much more important to me now. I guess I took it for granted, before, that people would want to know. I think, now, that whether or not I feel okay or better after saying something might not be the most important thing. It might not do the most good in the end. Whether I continue to think this way or whether I revert to my natural tendency, which is to share—I have no way of knowing right now.

For all these reasons… I don’t regret it. I used to be wistful for a time before all of this, and think jealously of the opportunity to start over. But I understand why I thought how I thought at that time and know that I had no reason to foresee what happened. And besides this—I now know a lot that I didn’t know before. It’s worth it to me for that. 

Farewell

Matthew (the hiker):

His smile in his pictures were inviting. He came off as a chill guy. So, I swiped right on him and we matched. We had an easygoing conversation. My inference of his character was almost spot-on. He is pretty inviting, laid-back even. I didn't hesitate when he suggested we meet up. Initially, he suggested we go hiking. Somehow, it ended up spending a couple hours chatting at a Starbucks before him grabbing lunch (because I wasn't hungry yet). He did his fair bit of traveling. As it were, he came back from teaching abroad in Japan. We traded stories about our adventures in that country. We also realized how similar we are in nature. I think he was the closest I got to being how I usually am around good friends, which is saying a lot. He didn't elicit much of the anxieties and nervousness that I usually am ravaged by whenever I meet up with a match. It's curious. And yet, I never did get back to him on that hike he suggested in the first place. It started off as my lack of interest in requesting a second meet up. Then, it rolled into forgetting to even tell him I'm sorry for not saying anything at all. In the end, an awkward amount of time passed to which I just gave up thinking about it at all. I think at some point during our meeting, he had a booger dangling in plain view in his nostril. It distracted me more than it disgusted me. 

Andrew (the last one):

He had a dorky smile that caught me off guard. We exchanged lengthy messages- meaningful ones. It's quite rare to come across guys on tinder who take the time to actually hold a decent conversation. Quite often, they're kind of dull. I think maybe we're all just a bit apprehensive about being the person who comes off as the more interested party so we just keep things light and noncommitted. I find it a shame, really. You're really just exchanging words via the Internet, words that are easily taken to be true, too. There's really nothing to be apprehensive about and yet, all too often people over trivialize things. Well, with Andrew, it was pleasant to just chat with him. The long blocks of text were refreshing to see. I kind of surprised myself when I spontaneously agreed to meet him, for a movie of all the activities to choose from. For some unknown reason, I assumed the Minions movie was screening and suggested we watch that. He found the showtime and we met in front of the theater. I was late, no surprise there. It turns out, the theater had showtimes listed for a movie that hasn't even hit the big screen yet. So, we opted for another movie that had a similar showtime. It was Inside Out. Right after we decided on the movie, he went over to the cashier to buy tickets. I wasn't prepared for him to just buy my ticket, to be honest. I never expect the guy to pay for my share. Anyway, I greatly appreciate the gesture because I don't think I would ever watch Inside Out if I had to pay for it myself. 

Halfway through the movie, I suppose, he started to put the moves on me. Now, this was my first movie theater date (sans high school experiences) so I was only riding on what I learned from pop culture mediums. There was a comedic scene and as we were laughing, he initiated the first physical contact in the form of lightly touching my hand, which was resting on my bag that was on my lap and then left his right arm over the arm rest and directly next to my left thigh. I remember thinking how long he would leave it there if I left it alone and feigned ignorance. I was more intrigued with how he'd subtly retract it after he realized I wasn't about to attend to his arm at all. He probably wasn't one to give up easily. After a while, he moved his hand to rest it on top of my bag as if to say, hey, I'm right here. Hold me. At that point, I had my arms folded across my chest. I knew that if I continued to ignore his hand, the rest of the night would be extremely awkward and uncomfortable. I wasn't about to go through that so I just gave in and interlocked my fingers with his. We finished the movie and he insisted I try out Dave and Busters because I mentioned once that I never went to one. Like he did with the movie tickets, he bought a game card for us to use to play the arcade games. It was really nice and generous of him. We played a couple rounds of Time Crisis. Skeezeball. I beat him at that. Then, he made me play this terrible zombie shooting game that measures your heart rate because its main feature is to scare the living hell out of you by making the zombies pop out at you and screech at you as you try your best to plug them with bullet holes. He had to pick up a friend from the airport so we parted ways at the parking garage. We hugged. I thanked him for the night. And then, I never responded to him. It was for two reasons. The first one was because I simply didn't feel compelled to. The second and main one is because throughout the whole date and even afterwards, I kept on thinking of another person. 


This whole episode with cmb and tinder was just a huge mess I created just so I could try and distract myself from thinking about the one person that has plagued my mind for the past half year. In a way, it did kind of work. I haven't been as fixated. Still, my feelings haven't changed. Aside from trying to distract myself, I also wanted to see if I could find it in me to meet someone new and perhaps develop a relationship. And yet, the result is negative. All I can solidly conclude from this adventure is that online dating doesn't work for me. At least, in the past couple months or so it didn't seem to. So, I've decided to part ways with it indefinitely. Who's to say I might get back into somewhere in the future? But, in my current state, I rather not be concerned with it.