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.