“Dying alone is fine.”

Therapist: “So, how’s dating? Have you written anyone back on the apps?”

Me: “Of course not, don’t be absurd.”

Therapist: “You know, if you don’t WANT to be dating…”

Me: “It’s not that I don’t WANT to. It’s just… Like we’ve talked about, I want someone who’ll fit into my life, which is pretty decent with just me — well, minus the depressive bits. And I’d SUPER like to have some sex. But about once a month I’ll hear something terrible about a man and I’ll think, ‘Ya know…I don’t really need one of those. Dying alone is fine.’ So I guess I’m just not in a hurry.”

See, THIS is why I shouldn’t be alone with my thoughts.

This is kind of a lot for a Saturday morning, but I need it out of MY head, so I’ll just vomit it along to you fine people!

I’m going to talk to my therapist about this on Monday, and I’m really not looking forward to it, because I don’t even know where to start in figuring it out.

I don’t know why I can’t just TALK to guys on dating apps. Every time I try to, I freeze up, get anxious, and run away. And I don’t know if it’s because I don’t actually want to date, or that I think I’d feel overwhelmed if I added that to my life (which often already overwhelms me — thanks, Anxiety!), or if I’m scared to…get hurt? To have something actually work out?

I’ve tried thinking about it and I got nothin’. Maybe I just believe I’ll meet someone in person like I always have — online dating has never gotten me anyone worthwhile, so maybe I’m convinced it’s not worth it. I don’t go out a TON, but I go out more than I used to, so it’s not like online is the only way I’m going to meet men.

Do I just really not want to shave my legs more often?

My guess is that it’s all of the above. But if I really don’t want to or don’t think it’s worth it, then I should just delete the accounts and stop wasting everyone’s time.

Ugh. Therapy is gonna suuuuuck. She’s going to make me…feel feelings. And ahhh, fuck, I BET she asks about my dad. 🤢

All my shit is so textbook that they can’t even PUT it in textbooks because it’s too easy. You could tell a toddler my business and they’d be like, “Well, yeah, obviously…”

Mercury in retrofuck

Y’all. Y’aaaaaalllll…

I hadn’t planned to post again, but I went back to Match after the last post, aaand… I don’t goddamn remember the clever blog pseudonym I gave this dude while we were dating, but we dated, and it didn’t end well, and since that end (which was…2014? 15?*), he has:

1. Left a Christmas gift on my doorstep while I wasn’t home. It was maybe June and I’d told him repeatedly since Christmas that I didn’t feel right accepting the gift, because HI. BREAKUP.

2. Texted and Facebook messaged just to say hey. (I ignored him every time.)

3. Made me realize I have, like, six boundaries and, in the month we dated, he’d disrespected them all.

Oh, and I later realized he’s kind of a racist. Not, like, a Klan racist — he wasn’t motivated enough to attend meetings — but one of those hometownie racists that only tells the racist jokes to white people because he thinks the white people are with him.

So. Obviously when I went back to Match, GUESS WHO HAD LIKED MY PROFILE.

What, from the bottom of my heart, THE FUCK?

I’m gonna go throw my phone in a river.

* EDIT: I just went back in WordPress and found out it was actually 2013. Jesus Christ.

I’m no geography buff, buuut…

Sorry, man. I can’t date anyone who doesn’t know where they live.

I think what you’re looking for in a username is “NotPhillyNotEvenTheSameState,” but I guess I can see where that would get unwieldy.

SWM seeks unicorn

1. This Match profile has SO many layers of weird.

2. Can’t imagine why dude is divorced.

I am nothing if not formal and proper…

BRB, changing all my dating profile pics…

“That’s what relationships are all about, Charlie Brown.”

There’s something so gross about dating profiles in which men say they want to spoil their girlfriends. Or even better, “spoil my lady.” 🤢

Fuck you, dude, I can spoil my damn self. I need YOU to go down on me and do the dishes.

“Any questions?” Oh, SO many questions!

My brain on online dating: “Have I told you lately that you’re an undateable garbage monster?”

Also my brain on online dating: “Mm hm, sure have — several times, actually. Also, shut the fuck up, I’m trying to get us laid here.”

Lady on the street but a freak in the bed

This seems like a whole lotta words in an online dating profile when you could just SAY “willing to try butt stuff.”

The power of Chardonnay compels you!

We all know I have weird anxiety about answering online dating messages, so…I’m-a just start drinking this bottle of wine, plop my laptop in front of me, and see if I l get inspired.

What could possibly go wrong?