One month after I decided to give online dating another try, after I'd paid my membership fees and committed to six months of finding my soulmate on the premiere dating site we all recognize, the world began to systematically shut down. Seemingly overnight, the multi-faceted personality test I'd taken and the profile I'd spent so much time crafting and re-working, became useless. In the face of the impending pandemic, no one was in the mood to meet anyone new, much less actually go on a date, and after awhile, even my favorite thing to do- writing messages back and forth- became tiresome. When there's no end game, and no timeline for when you can actually meet and talk to someone, what's the point? I wrote to the company, begging them to release me from my contract and, surprisingly, they did! Good-bye, creepy guy in California who wrote cryptic and cynical responses that made me wonder if he wasn't just some 14 year-old in his bedroom. Good-bye to the man in Michigan who started out promising but quickly turned into a nightmare once he got my phone number, messaging me continually about how we were soul mates and destined to be together. Good-bye to the newly-single man in KC who was happy to give me all of his attention.. until I was suddenly ghosted and never heard from him again. Who needed it?
But then, just as I was ready to log off forever, I found Jim. Unexpectedly funny, intelligent, interesting, and a man who could actually string sentences together into coherent thoughts, I couldn't believe my luck. And he was local. We wrote epic novellas back and forth on a daily basis; sometimes more than once a day. He was an average guy, but one who was thoughtful and liberal-thinking, and it seemed like all the crap I'd previously gone through might've actually been worth it. Eventually the pandemic seemed to lessen its grip and the country began to shake off its lockdown, and we talked of meeting. A food truck. Outdoors. Lunch. Seemed safe enough. And when we did meet, all I could do was smile. We talked for three hours, sitting outside in the sun, while the cafe owners silently willed us to leave so they could clean up. I barely got home before Jim texted he'd like to see me again. There was no question I wanted to see him, too, and so it began. We met for supper, again, talking for hours that seemed to fly by. I felt excited and alive again, and bought new clothes and shoes to wear on "date nights," and smiled almost all the time. I loved having somewhere to go with someone who was so easy to be with. I fantasized about the future, and about how I would introduce Jim to my family. I imagined trips to places I'd never been, and enjoying new experiences with him.
Then, something shifted.
After the fourth date, the texts started feeling forced. His answers became short and he seemed distracted. I told myself he was busy and so was I, and besides I didn't want a man who had to be in constant communication with me. I tried an experiment: One day I didn't text and waited to see if he would text first. A day went by and I didn't hear from him. The weekend approached, and there was no mention of going out. I became anxious. I vowed not to text him, but in the end, I did. I asked if he wanted to see me again and finally, hours later, came the answer I'd been dreading. I was nice and he liked me, he said, but he didn't think we had a future together, and it would be best if we stopped dating.
I was stunned and oh, so sad. I went over and over every conversation, everything I said, every action.. what had I done? It had to be something I'd done, of course. It couldn't just be a matter of him being honest. I had to have screwed up.
But maybe not.
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I remembered another online relationship I'd had, where I met a guy who clearly liked me, and we got along great until we met. I just couldn't see spending time with him anymore, even though he asked me out again. So I basically told him the same thing that Jim told me. Perhaps he also wondered what he'd said, or what he'd done. Of how he'd screwed up. But he hadn't.. it was just me being honest.
After my subscription ended, I didn't renew. Since the pandemic was raging once more, and people were going back to their reclusive ways, there's little point. And, truthfully, I don't have the mental energy to deal with anyone new, so perhaps Jim did me a favor. I miss him, though- I miss the conversations, the going places, and I especially miss feeling special. I look at the new shoes in my closet and wonder when I'll have occasion to wear them again. At some point, when I feel safe enough to meet people again, perhaps I'll give it another try. I think there were some valuable lessons to be learned from the experience, namely, sometimes people don't click. No matter how much you want it, sometimes it just doesn't happen. But, despite the disappointment, there's always the possibility that it will. And I already have new shoes.
