First, please pay attention to the comma in the titles. Once again I wrote up a post and then shelved it. This time, I never got around to hitting submit. I ran out of steam, and no longer wanted to make the point I had set out to make. It was an attempt to understand why men behave poorly in the online dating world. My friend in Omaha, a woman I met (we never actually met) on a dating site back in November or December, is very recently single and has been sharing her adventures in dating (with me through text and with her friends on Facebook). I keep telling her it’s a swamp. She keeps confirming it’s a swamp.
In my post, I wasn’t trying to defend the poor behavior – she gets called a bitch when she tells someone she’s not interested. But I was going to make the argument that for decades, we’ve been raising men to go out and take what they want, to be strong providers, to be decisive, to win, to compete. Also for decades we’ve had norms that say men must initiate and take charge. I come across a lot of profiles that say I’m looking for a man who knows what he wants. And while that may not mean in a forceful way, it plays in to the gender norms.
Back in the summer of 2016, I had just stated the online dating thing after being in a 17 year relationship. The experience was a shock, and I had no idea what I was doing. I met quite a few people and heard quite a few stories. Men do a lot of crappy and crass things, especially from behind the screen of their phone. They harass, they call names, they send unsolicited pictures of their junk, and in the worst cases, they are abusive, or commit assault. I genuinely feel bad for women who are just trying to navigate this stuff and find a decent guy….
All of that said, and where I was going last night, was that our norms play in to some of this behavior. In all of my time on dating sites, I was never one to do mass outreach. It’s a strategy in which you simply play the numbers. You don’t read any profiles and you contact everyone figuring one or two might get back to you. Because you’re not investing in the process, the sting of rejection is lessened. And I think that’s something women might not consider as they insist that men initiate… again, not a defense for bad behavior, but by always having to initiate, men also have to assume all of the initial risk (rejection). That seems like it might be a bad way to start a relationship and immediately sets up the chase / withdraw dynamic. But more importantly, I suspect constant rejection can really bring a person’s sense of self-worth down. And it’s most-likely from that defeated point of view that many men decide they have nothing to lose and behave badly. I’m sure there are plenty of actual papers written about this topic. I know there’s been a movement against male aggression and toxic masculinity – it’s about time. I suppose all I ever urge is to approach any change (in norms, behavior, expectations) with an attempt at understanding. Basic psychology and certainly relationship psychology teaches that most conflict resides within before it ever becomes about the other. This seems like such an important concept to hold closely.
My friend called to talk – which is part of the reason I abandoned the post. I shared with her the experience I had the other day when I went for a run and cut it short because of the weather. I talked about how that put me in a bad mood and made me view the world as being all about me and everyone in it being in my way (A concept that I’ve taken from David Foster Wallace). I ended by saying, now imagine if I had come home to someone in that mood. They wouldn’t have seen any of the things that had been building up to get me there, they would have only seen the end result. Whatever I do, in that next moment, is entirely my responsibility… but what helps calm the relationship waters is if, in that moment, the other person can recognize that it’s not about them….
I wasn’t suggesting that my friend deal with the online creeps with compassion. Quite the opposite, I was suggesting that she not engage. But I was trying to say that if she can view other people through this lens, it might help build those muscles of compassion that will be needed when she finds a decent guy.
As time marches, drags, wears, or does whatever time does, I’m finding myself less and less interested in re-entering that world. Not only does it seem brutal and a hassle, but I’m not sure I have the interest. Or more accurately, if I could start with someone at the place my ex-fiancee, B, and I had gotten to (that level of comfort and spirit of adventure in the world), I’d take it. And as fun as it can be getting to know someone (it’s the journey), I spent three years getting to know a lot of people on the surface level… and I’ve come to appreciate depth a lot more. I suppose once you commit yourself to the idea of spending a lifetime getting to know someone, the thought of building back to that place with someone new seems both improbable and subpar? It’s a weird thing. For all of the excitement that a new relationship has, it’s the deeply calming acceptance phase that I now find most enticing – that phase when you look at the other person and realize you find something new to admire almost daily. And for whatever reason, that just doesn’t even seem possible right now.
Just after she left, B and I had a couple of sincere conversations. Or maybe it was before, I honestly can’t remember – I think it was before. She had brought up the “if this doesn’t work” statement. It wasn’t something we contemplated often, but did once in a while. Usually it was in the form of her saying “even if this doesn’t work, you’ve changed my life forever.” A very touching but bittersweet sentiment – perhaps foreshadowing… But this conversation, and it wasn’t a long one, ended with both of us saying that if this doesn’t work, we might not try again. She had said for her part that she’d probably look to start a commune with her friends (more than a few times, she talked about just wanting to have a place free and clear where they just enjoyed each other’s company and look out for each other). I think I said something along the lines of I don’t know what I’ll do. It was an odd conversation to have. My recollection of it was that it was a tender conversation – we weren’t up in arms about anything. Looking back, it’s easy to see that we were putting a fair amount of pressure on the relationship… we were both all-in and convinced that this was it…. and I think we were both looking for that settled in feel – that time when there isn’t a “if this doesn’t work….”
I’m still in the I don’t know phase of my answer. I’ve been writing a lot, recently, about the benefits I’ve found through being alone. Stephen Dunn has a poem – I can never remember the name of it or the exact phrasing – but the sentiment is that sometimes it’s ok to swing wildly from one side to the other in order to find our balance. I’m a firm believer that we learn a lot about ourselves through other people, so it’s odd to find myself advocating for alone time. As much as I’d love to look over at my person and say “what do you want to do today” I think it’s going to be a while before I’m at that point. I consider this time period to be my swinging wildly to the other side, so that I might be able to bring better balance.
It’s that second cup time of the morning, and I’ve grabbed my big book of Dunn poems for the porch – hoping to learn balance, rhythm, and maybe how to dance… with only myself to answer to.