Fear Is Not An Option

Well, I am taking my second dip in the online dating pool. A few of my fellow single girlfriends had already started blazing the trail over the past several weeks, and encouraged me to hold my breath, plug my nose, and jump right in. The whole dating concept still has the power to cause feelings of apprehension, but I am beginning to learn how to initiate virtual conversations without too many preconceived notions or expectations with regard to the specific results.


Most of the time, I am on the receiving end of the infamous “first message.” It’s the hook that somebody drops over the side of their little boat, hoping to make a connection amongst the millions of profiles and one-dimensional pictures which represent real living, breathing human beings. Human beings with lives. Human beings with families. Human beings with dreams, plans, jobs that are either hated or loved, friends, maybe even current as well as ex-lovers. Human beings are complicated; more complicated than just an opening phrase of, “Hey! Saw your picture, love your smile, if you think we are compatible than send me a message!”


I can’t really form any judgments by just a picture. I mean, I look at pictures of myself – in some I can actually look very beautiful, and in others I look every single one of my forty years. I am always VERY critical of my own appearance: Look at my double chin! Look at that gut! My features look too manly! There are too many wrinkles around my eyes! My nose is crooked! What a hag!


Truth be told, I’m scared. Yes, I like to come across as this fearless superwoman, but underneath this hard, aggressive, emotionally unavailable exterior is a soft, fuzzy underbelly afraid of being sliced open by Freddy Krueger a la Nightmare on Elm Street. As one of my male friends so eloquently stated to me the other day, in the past two and a half years I have not put myself in the position to “get laid.” As if! But the thought makes me stop and consider for a moment. Do I now WANT to be put in that position? I mean, if I intend to interact with anybody in a potential intimate relationship ever again in my lifetime, I had better get used to the idea, right? Right??!?!


Every time I happened across somebody in the past that I was attracted to – the Bunny included – I didn’t initially approach that interaction with this possibility in mind. It wasn’t like now, where potential dating partners are asking me straight out: “Why don’t we meet and see if we have chemistry? That x-factor?” Yes, they use my own words against me… it’s a little off-putting. I feel like it sets me up for failure, because now I’m under pressure; the pressure of “expectation.” Am I attracted to this guy? Or not? He’s waiting for an answer. Time’s ticking, Shirley! I haven’t got all day here!! Bitch.


I’ve sent off a few of those first messages too, albeit with less frequency. It takes a lot of courage; reading through some stranger’s profile trying to pick out something recognizable that makes me believe there’s relationship potential invariably starts the wheels in my brain whirring. If the recipient answers my message, the whirring settles down as the pace of my thoughts are determined by the nature of his response and my reaction to the message. If I never get a reply, the whirring goes faster and faster until my brain jumps the track and I am bombarded with negative thoughts: See? This is a huge waste of time. This doesn’t work. I can’t do this. Nobody wants to talk to me. Nobody understands. What on earth am I doing?


As a result, I make it a point to always answer that first message, if for no other reason than to express “thank you” and “good luck on your search.” Partially this is for karma purposes – even in a virtual environment, ignoring is still ignoring, and therefore rude – but also I like to validate the efforts of those brave souls who fought past the feelings of inadequacy and discomfort by forcing themselves to type out a message and click on “send.”


Another one of my male friends – who knows me fairly well – made a comment to me during a recent discussion of my fledgling online dating adventures. He suggested that when I hook up with the right guy, that guy’s going to be able to bring out all of my passion in every sense of the word (spiritual, emotional, physical) – despite my natural skepticism. I think that puts a lot of pressure on the guy! But if we are talking about a full-on intimate “with all that intimacy entails” relationship: Will I be satisfied with anything less? Probably not; I know myself well. I guess I have little choice but to plunge blindly ahead, open to the Universe, but still keeping one finger on the pulse of who I am deep inside – way past that fuzzy underbelly responsible for protecting those unquantifiable, indistinguishable elements that make up the human being I’ve become.


Complicated.