…nah, not that word, get ya head outta the damn gutter. I’m talking about dating, which, unlike what I’ve just written, I’m about to mention A LOT.

I recently had one of those offers to check out Bumble, a dating app that I have previously used on and off, for a 24 hour period, and it got me thinking about the whole dating thing. I have been out of the dating game since 2023, and now even just writing that ‘d’ word makes me feel kinda nauseous. I’m about to get quite vulnerable and candid in telling you the reasons why.

I would also like to preface this by saying it is not a plea for pity or platitudes, it’s a hard dose of honesty that I think more people than I realise will relate to.

First, I appear to have built up some trust issues. People, not just partners, have come and gone too frequently for me to believe anyone will stick around permanently. That has in turn made me a ‘runner’ of sorts, finding it difficult to keep up relationships whether they be of the romantic or friendly kind. I realise that it’s all about having the courage to see things through and taking risks is a huge part of it, but I’m feeling quite mentally spent on both of those things. If I match with someone on an app, it’s likely I’ll ghost them out of fear, the biggest fear being that they will be repulsed by me in person or eventually disappear anyway. I’m not even giving them an unprejudiced chance before deciding who they are. Is that fair? Absolutely not, but that’s how it is right now.

Second, I have lost a lot of self-confidence and found myself getting more and more insecure about my physicality and personality in the past couple of years. The words in the image at the top of this post are ones I hear far too frequently from my inner voice and they are all the demonic spawn of the bitch called Insecurity. Occasionally she might say nice things, but that’s just lulling me into a false sense of security before she rears her ugly, selfish, undesirable head again. It’s a horribly familiar story for so many people, and I’m fairly sure dating apps have only aggravated and further falsified that negative inner narrative.

Third, I don’t have a whole lot of free time due to being focused on my own projects, including this very blog you are currently reading. Dating hasn’t been put on the back burner, it has been fully removed from the stove, which has been great for boosting my own interests but has clearly come at a cost.

Fourth, I’ve grown so used to being by myself, answering to nobody and living how I wish without consideration of another person, that I’m not sure how I would go about accomodating somebody else. I think I can do it (I have done before), but now, more than ever, it needs to be the right person, a person worth making big shifts for, and in reciprocation I would want to be a person worth shifting for. However, if my second reason for not dating is anything to go by, that worth has all but dissipated, at least in my mind.

To add to this, as I’ve gotten older I’ve subconsciously developed a partner ‘check list’, and the list has now become so apparent that I am fully conscious of it and will consult it when considering a partner. I won’t reveal it in full, but I do want to stress that I don’t mean a superficial list consisting of ‘6’5″, blue eyes, trust fund, works in finance’. I mean that I would hope he has similar hobbies, treats people a certain way, has an outlook that is compatible with mine, etc. In other words, the stuff that matters. But it does lessen the amount of potential suitors.

So anyway, I hopped on Bumble and had a flip through. To my surprise, I did come across a guy who ticked a lot of boxes, compatible on paper. Then that fear and Madam Insecurity bubbled right up to the surface and I felt myself getting short of breath and panicking. Logically I knew there was no need to put pressure on this: I’m not committing to this dude, there’s nothing I have to do, but still there are expectations when joining these apps, namely that you’re looking for a ‘love match’ (BLEEUUUGHHH why does that make me retch so!) and that in-person communication is the goal. The anxiety that gives me makes the whole thing feel entirely not worth it.

Do I hope for a relationship in the future? Of course. I often go by ‘there’s someone for everyone’, but now I get the reply in my brain of ‘but not for you’. Sad, isn’t it? I often tell myself, ‘when I lose weight I’ll put myself out there,’ or ‘when I’m in a more financially stable position and not so scared of talking money with a future partner, then I’ll make more of an effort’, but I wonder if those are justifiable excuses or just me being avoidant and cowardly. Perhaps these are questions best put not to a potential partner, but a future therapist.

I think this is going to turn into a deeper hole of discerning questions and mind-churning thoughts if I don’t end it here, but for anyone who is going through a similar thing, particularly those older than 30, just know that you are far from alone. Whether you’ve been single most of your life, in and out of relationships, through marriage and divorce, we’re all in this messy plenty-of-fish (or not) ocean together, and we’re not going to sink because we have no choice but to swim. Maybe our confidence will grow, maybe it’ll be a tremendous struggle, maybe we’ll have to fake it along the way, but if we can find each other in a vast sea of negative thoughts, maybe there’s hope.