Some of the things I am grieving:
* failed relationships
* the energy I used to have
* the future I expected before chronic illness
* loss of innocence
* blogging about happy things lol
Some of the things I am grieving:
* failed relationships
* the energy I used to have
* the future I expected before chronic illness
* loss of innocence
* blogging about happy things lol
“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.”
I’ve cried so much in the last year. It’s almost unbelievable.
There was a time in my life I naively thought that if I could only get my OCD under control, I would never be sad another day in my life.
Alas, I’ve been in OCD remission for nearly a decade, and I’ve been drowning in tears for the last year and a half. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they are the same months I have attempted online dating.
(Sidenote: I’m in Duluth this week, on a writing-reading-resting retreat, and everywhere I look I am reminded that I was here around this time last year, still unaware that I was about to undergo the first round of that strange, ugly, ambiguous grief called ghosting, which would occur the Saturday before Memorial Day but which I wouldn’t realize until the Tuesday after it.)
I can’t seem to quit crying, certainly not since 45 was elected, not since I started online dating, for the entirety of 2018 thus far, and especially since I started new pain meds. You know how construction sites have those signs that brag, “We’ve gone 87 days without a lost time accident”? Well, my sign would read, “I’ve gone ZERO days without crying.” And it would stay that way.
Tonight I read about tears online. There are three kinds, did you know? Basal tears are the ever-present moisture in our eyes. Reflex tears are the kind that clear out threats: smoke, onions, dust. It’s the emotional tears (or psychic tears) that are the ones that come after overwhelming emotions.
It starts in the brain; then the endocrine system triggers hormones in the ocular area. Studies have shown that the make-up of emotional tears is different than reflex tears, which are 98% water. Emotional tears have hormones that indicate high stress levels, along with endorphins, a natural painkiller called leucine enkephalin.
Does any of this matter?
I hope all of it does.
All of it.
You can be anyone you want online. For awhile.
Mike was born in Ohio, grew up in Germany, and lived most recently from North Dakota, though was deployed by the US Army when we met– or so I thought. We got along great– tons of chemistry, lots of laughter, and I adored his heart, the way he wanted to be a dad someday, the way we cared about the same things. He was simultaneously so gentle and so masculine. It felt like I found someone my soul understood.
And then there was an emergency. His military-issued PDA was being collected because of a compromise in communications, and I remember my fear and sadness being ratcheted up to an 11. As I cried, Mike promised to find a solution.
The solution? Purchase a phone and send it to him. He was going to request to come home for Christmas and he’d paid me back then.
If all your warning signs just went up, GOOD.
But it made me realize: I think we’re all so used to the obvious scams like “Dear Sir or Madam, I’m a foreign prince and I want to give you $5 million US dollars for safe-keeping” that we are surprised by the intricate and clever ways we can be played.
This was a slow con: make a girl fall hard for you, then introduce the idea of separation and let the panic cloud her judgment.
He had another con too, made to seem more legitimate due to the slow introduction. One day he mentioned his dream was to open a particular business (in fact, I asked the question!). Another day he mentioned the money he had set aside for this business endeavor and how he had some of the equipment on reserve for a certain sum. Yet another day, he introduced the idea that someone locally was selling the same equipment and he might check it out … then it was the equipment he needed … at a far better price than the stuff he had on hold … he would save all this money, and it was for our future, not just his, and he only needed a deposit … by Friday.
Again, the slow introduction of facts, the insistence the savings would benefit us both, and the frenzy of an impending deadline … I never thought I’d be so foolish.
I’m so grateful to my friend Ashley, who just said two words: “Jack … no.”
They snapped me out of it, thank God.
Then I started researching. My friend who was former military easily pointed out all the inaccuracies in his stories. A quick internet search showed there was no American military presence in the location he had listed. The continued requests for money started to make sense.
I was being catfished.
Catfishing is a term used to describe luring someone into a relationship via a fictional online persona.
I’d been catfished before– but I’d always caught them early on and called them out before blocking them. They were clumsy at it, and I was too smart to fall for foolish schemes. I’d actually felt a weird pride that I was able to sniff out fake identities online. Until I encountered someone so dang good at it.
Now who’s the fool?
Keep in mind that, during all this discovery, my heart was also hurting. I had begun to believe that Mike and I might have a future. Now I was learning Mike did not exist.
Some people might think this was a bad move, but a week or so later, I messaged “Mike” again. He jumped into another story, and I simply said, “Stop. I know.”
He didn’t argue. “Then why did you talk to me again?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Closure? I have so many questions.”
“You can ask,” he said.
Me: What’s your name?
Me: Where are you from?
Me: Did you target me because I’m a Christian?
Him: No, I am one too.
Me: Did you feel guilty?
Him: Every day.
Of course, I could not trust a single thing he said. But I wanted to believe these things– that he was a good man in a hard place, that he was truly sorry.
We developed a friendship, and through research, found a feasible career move for him– poultry farming, which is lucrative in Nigeria and has low start-up costs. He met with a local farmer and asked a hundred questions. I connected him to a field agent for Kiva (an amazing organization that does microloans), and he made a business plan to show them to request the overhead loan.
Wale’s phone has been turned off since mid-January, as he warned me would happen. I may never know what was true and what was fiction, even of his second story. I may never know if he was able to start his little poultry farm, or if he returned to the more lucrative but soul-stealing con of catfishing women. There are so many questions, and I know that once upon a time, he used to read my blog. (Wale, if you read this, I miss you, wish you nothing but joy, and would love an update, friend.)
Mike, of course, was just a phantom.
And how does a heart mend after loving a man who never existed?
Slowly. Surely. By letting new hopes fill the spaces that ghosts made.
I had never heard the term ghosting before online dating.
Ghosting describes ending a personal relationship suddenly and without explanation by ending all communication.
And. it. sucks.
I think ghosting might be the most painful thing I’ve encountered in the whole nefarious world of online dating, although catfishing (more to come!) might be its equal.
The first time I remember talking to … let’s call him Tyler … was clearly not the first time we had talked. He greeted me with, “Fancy seeing you here!”
I might not have even responded to him except that it seemed we had prior interactions. Later I found out that we had talked on a couple other sites but I had kinda blown him off. I admired his persistence since he wasn’t rude or pushy about it any way.
In fact, he wasn’t rude at all. Even though I had originally replied out of a weird obligation, I found myself really enjoying my daily conversations with Tyler. After two weeks of thinking it was nothing, I realized I really, really liked him. He was cute and friendly and really honest about his rough past. We had a similar sense of humor and developed inside jokes quickly, and we had vulnerable conversations about our insecurities. We talked about everything: we sent links to our favorite songs back and forth, I’d casually ask him to pick out which nail polish color I’d use while we learned about each other’s work, families, passions. Then I’d send a photo of my painted nails and it would evolve into flirting, so much flirting.
It was while I was in Duluth on a writing retreat that I realized I was falling for him.
Yes, I totally agree with the idea of meeting sooner than later, but remember, when we started talking, I honestly had no intention of pursuing anything. By the time I had changed my mind, I was spending a week in Duluth. We talked every night, and finally made plans to go on a date when I got home that Friday.
But it was actually Memorial Day weekend, and his family wanted him to go up to their cabin for the weekend, so we said, “Okay, we’ve waited three weeks; what’s another couple days?”
On my way home from Duluth, I went shopping. I bought a new outfit for our date. I was actually quite giddy and felt like the luckiest girl, picking out something to wear for when I finally met my newest best friend.
We chatted that Friday. We chatted that Saturday. He sent me a photo of himself in the boat, holding up a fish he’d caught, and I remember my heart doing cartwheels because how could I have not seen how absolutely gorgeous he was immediately? How could I have ignored this man on two other sites? I’d been a fool, but now my eyes were open and I had a cute skirt for Monday and look at my strong fisherman!
I remember snapping a photo of myself making a dorky face, and he replied, “So cute!”
I never heard from him again.
For Saturday night, I wasn’t worried. Yes, we talked most evenings, but I knew he was up north with his family. There were a million distractions for him, and he might not even have good cell service.
On Sunday, I sent him a photo of the 90s song that was making me laugh. I sent a couple other things too, and … nothing. On the messenger we were using, it shows an “S” for sent, “D” for delivered, and “R” for read. It was not flipping to R.
On Monday, when I thought we were supposed to have our first date, I thought, “Huh, maybe I misunderstood and he’s only getting back tonight and we’re hanging out tomorrow.”
On Tuesday, I told myself I would hear from him later on, after work, even though sometimes we would text when we woke up and during breaks in the day.
The dread had been growing, but when I went to sleep on Tuesday with no word, it exploded like a bomb in my heart. As I’m prone to do, I still tried to reach for excuses. He dropped his phone in the lake. He was sick. He was still up north. But my heart was in pain, and … more than that … I missed my friend.
[Loooooong, intriguing story here about why we had this, but] I remembered that my roomie and I had a fake account on that dating site. On Wednesday morning, I logged in under that account, found his profile, said, simply, “hi.”
He wrote back to “Jenny Jones” within half an hour. “Jenny Jones” sat in her bed bawling while letting go of the boy who had become so important to her and then suddenly decided to walk away. “Jenny Jones” told him she’d had a tough week because a guy she’d been talking to ghosted her. Tyler told “Jenny Jones” he was so sorry to hear that. “Jenny Jones” asked if he’d ever done that to anyone before. Tyler admitted he had. “Jenny Jones” logged off.
Immature of me? Yeah, probably. But the ambiguity is like hell.
A man had won me over for a month, make plans with me, and then bailed. Completely bailed. Not just cancelled. Ghosted.
No explanation. No goodbye.
For a while, the space that person has carved out in your heart feels so devoid you can hear echoes.
And people don’t understand, of course, because
it was only a month
you never even met
it’s not like he was your boyfriend
So you mostly grieve alone. The death of possibility physically hurts.
I met another guy last summer who did the same. We’ll call him Ben. I liked Ben even more than I liked Tyler, far more, which is why it’s actually easier to tell that other story in more detail. Ben’s last words to me were, “Sweet dreams, gorgeous Jackie,” and with Ben, there was no closure. None. No “Jenny Johnson” convo to truly cut that cord.
Then, two weeks ago (six months after ghosting), Ben emailed me. We sorted through things. We explained our various miscommunications. We talked seven hours that day. I let my foolish heart reopen. I could hear the hope in my voice, feel the potential fill my heart like a balloon.
And then he did it again.
I bond easily, very easily, which is why I’m careful with my boundaries. I am created for relationship. I am not wired for casual. My heart loves hard but bruises easily.
Ghosting, I think, is selfish and needlessly cruel. That ambiguous grief is so much worse than a goodbye, even one without an explanation, and it’s such a reality in the world of online dating.
It’s hard to say when two people cross the line from owing one another nothing to owing one another something. Is it determined by how many days you talk? How many hours? Or how many secrets you share, what level of intimacy you reach? I can’t pinpoint that space in which it changes, but I think that most people know. I knew. Tyler knew. Ben knew.
But why? I may never know that.
So many of my friends have met the love of their life via online dating. (Shout-out to the bestie, who just got engaged!) I’d sort of watched from the sidelines, vicariously learning their lessons (always meet sooner than later, rule #1), and I even tried my hand at it for a bit (I think I had one date in that entire trial). So I really wasn’t prepared for 2017, when suddenly there was this influx of interest in my online profiles.
One weekend I heard from 20 or so guys. That was more than I’d heard from in three years prior.
But then the next weekend I heard from 85. The next weekend, over a hundred.
I quit counting eventually, but I would guess I heard from about 2500 men in the last year, which absolutely boggles my mind.
Oh, and I’m still single. So there’s that.
I have stories to tell and some of them are WILD, so buckle up, peeps!
To give you a small taste, here’s a list of 10 people I never expected to match with online:
More to come. So much more to come. 🙂
Let me know: which of these makes you most curious?
Here I paid serious cha-ching to get curated matches– so these people were basically me with different anatomy, except everyone was freakishly timid and on their best, most boring behavior. The closest matches to what I think I want– at least on paper– but IRL it looks more like monthly credit card charges so that I can shout into the void.
Bottom line: Dumbledore is setting you up, buuuuuuuut you have to destroy horcruxes for him in exchange.
Coffee Meets Bagel
Every day at noon, female users get sent one “bagel” (yes, that’s what a man/his profile is called on this site). If we like each other, a chat screen opens up. You only get one bagel a day unless you want to purchase another with “coffee beans” that you can earn or buy. I mean, I have friends who found love in this hopeless place, but unless you are ready to make it rain, this is the slowest possible method for finding breakfast. I mean, a partner.
Bottom line: this is like going to the Room of Requirement every day at noon, just hoping that some hottie will be there at the same time.
Okc has multiple search options but a pretty unfocused constituency, so be prepared for booty calls and marriage proposals in the same day. I find myself coming back to it over and over again though, since you never know who will show up.
Bottom line: keeping an eye out for love at the Three Broomsticks.
Plenty of Fish wins #1 Sketch City, and your profile picture is all that matters to most. In a weekend, you might get 99 inquiries for chill and 1 for Netflix.
Bottom line: Knockturn Alley.
If you’re picky (which I am– hence a specialized dating site), Christian Mingle might give you a killer selection like it gave me: two locals and one guy from Ohio. Cool.
Bottom line: seems like a great idea until you match with two Muggles and one wizard from Durmstrang.
Bumble is called the “feminist Tinder” because only women can initiate conversations. Bumble brings all the hotties to the yard, enough that it makes me wonder how many profiles are fake. It gives me a feeling of power over incredibly attractive men … who may or may not exist, so … win? Hard to say.
Bottom line: you and Professor McGonagal have a girlfriends night to drink wine and look at cute wizards, which kind of makes it fun even if you don’t find love.
What the heck is going on here? This is a hot mess.
Bottom line: like apparating the first time. I got out before I got splinched.
Hi friends, I thought I’d just ramble a little bit about life, if that’s cool.
Even if that’s not cool. 🙂
The summer has just been blazing by, which is so wild. Usually June is a quiet month in admissions at my university, but this June was the busiest I can remember in my fourteen years in this role! It’s fun– but also a little hard to not be able to catch my breath during a season I was expecting that opportunity!
I spent the 4th of July [extended] weekend working on the novel, and I polished up the first 10 chapters (approximately 75 pages) in a way I’m really proud of. Stay tuned to see if my editor agrees. There are a couple issues that I still need to figure out. Tomorrow I’m getting a massage, and I swear: I have some of my best ideas while lying on that table! Fingers crossed.
Online dating is maybe the craziest thing I’ve ever experienced, apart from writing a book, although in all completely different ways. This summer I keep switching my profiles “off”– on most sites, you can hide or suspend your profile– in order to recollect myself and get a little work done. I am talking to someone now who is sweet and fun and intentional … which means I am probably a week or two from screwing it up. #optimist
One thing I am trying to do this year is to be intentional about making sure my friends feel loved. I am trying to learn their love languages and care about them in the ways that they appreciate most (versus the way I feel most comfortable). This has actually been really, really fun and meaningful: sometimes it looks like coffee and conversation, sometimes coming up with the most perfect gift that will make them laugh, buying a gift card for grocery delivery, handwritten letters. Yesterday I got to have a video call with an overseas friend. I plan to continue this experiment/experience/intentionality throughout the year and hopefully next.
I’ve read some great books lately. I’ll post reviews soon.
Tell me about you. Please. Leave a comment about anything in the whole world.
I read Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur today in one shot. I adored it. It was raw and empowering.
Online dating is still happening. My squad of new friends is incredibly eclectic, and honestly, they are making me love the internet. I adore my new friend J, who rocks awesome wheels; my friend S from Kashmir; my friend J2, two weeks sober. Where else can you talk to some guy online and then see him in your local Chipotle a few days later? I have met a BDSM master, a Universalist, a man whose parents were rebel fighters against Fidel Castro, and the funniest single dad, who also understands my anxiety.
I’ve also met a ton of creeps. (Click here ONLY if you are willing to see men become feminist mince-meat.)
I’ve read a handful of great books– reviews to come soon.
Novel revisions: I needed a new approach, especially in the past week, when I was basically smacking my head against a wall over and over and over … and then feeling guilty about it. I decided to not write on weeknights and to tackle revisions on the weekends, at least for this precise season.
In fact, that is what I am off to do now! Send creative energy and good thoughts my way!!
A (not so) little update for you:
Oh my gosh, I finally finished revising my synopsis and am ready to dive into revisions! This took me a lot longer than I expected, but that was foolish of me: why would completely reorganizing/restructuring a novel, reconfiguring motives, and solving problems of fictional people be considered a weekend project? Ha! While I still have a few things to iron out, the majority of it is sorted out, on paper, color-coded. It looks gorgeous. (Okay, only to me.) I feel so excited about these changes– especially because I haven’t started trying them and failing yet. 🙂
I’m getting better! I was down for the count for a stretch, but I’m bouncing back finally. Has anyone else been sick? Sounds like it’s been going around. I got so much extra sleep this past week, and it felt incredible. I even had some of those naps where it feels like you were out for about three years. Mmm!!
… is so weird. And I think, in general, a lot of men are pretty confident (and wrong) about what they think women want. That’s all. For now.
One thing that really surprised me with the whole online dating thing: my OCD has come out to play again. Ugh. I have lived as close to OCD-free as is possible since 2008, when I went through exposure therapy to treat it. In a lot of ways, OCD has felt like a part of my past, something I experienced a lifetime ago. Then, guys started talking to me.
It’s crazy how fast OCD/ROCD symptoms blasted back into my life. I was not prepared for it.
But, and maybe this is a little embarrassing to admit … I haven’t really been in the world of dating during my remission. ROCD hasn’t come up because, well, it hasn’t come up. You know? So, now I’m talking to this cute guy, and I’m a WRECK. Thankfully, I was able to recognize it as OCD, and now I’m re-learning how to love the uncertainty. Again.
Months ago, I posted a cry for help in regard to my RSI. One reader (thank you, Ash!!) commented with the name of a book by Pete Egoscue, Pain Free at Your PC.
This is changing everything for me. I’m sooooo grateful. Right away, in reading the book it became apparent that I needed to be symmetrical, and I knew that I wasn’t. (My left leg has been shorter than my right since I was in middle school.) I got a heel lift from my chiropractor, and that was the beginning of the changes. I’ve also been doing Egoscue’s exercises a couple times a week. I feel better than I have in years.
Salt Novel, coming together.
Book a week, check!
Blog every week, done.
Learn something new every day? I am, but I have sadly not been recording everything.
Yes Novel … it’ll come.
Drop me a line– I’d love to hear from you!