all about (lacking) love
thoughts on love when you've never really had it from a retired tinder queen.
*cover photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash*
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I remember the late night I discovered Tinder at my friend KJ’s house in 2015. I'd swiped until a notification materialized on the screen, alerting me that I'd, in fact, run out of swipes. For the immediate time prior, I'd been entranced. Inhaling the digital profiles of men like a kid in a candy shop who had discovered innumerable buckets of their favorite sweet treat. I proceeded to gorge myself, my index finger, the one used for swiping, had grown tired. However, even with this humble and somewhat embarrassing beginning, I became the self-proclaimed Tinder queen.
So many seasons have passed since that time in DC when I'd camp out at the cozy couches around low tables with low lighting, awaiting the man I'd only recently come to know existed. Dating became a sport to me, though I was never much good at it. It gave me a rush, and I was a mid-20s girlie who had no self-control and, at moments, little self-respect. I was having the time of my life. I was also grieving and maybe so generally numb that I didn't realize I was chasing all the ways I could feel anything. Dating gave me an incredible dopamine hit, but the thing about dopamine hits is that they only sustain you for so long. You always want more.
Not so far into my time on Tinder, I'd fumbled headfirst into two relationships. Both with men I shouldn't have been with. With men who I still didn't know even once I knew them. They were with me, a woman who didn't know herself, so it was kind of okay if I didn't know them. Both of these relationships had endings that were explosive and exhausting. Both of these times had once been fun. Much of the fun had become dull, and in both of these relationships, I fell into similar patterns of disappearing while still being present so as not to trouble the waters.
In 2019, a man had spotted me in a bar on H St, staring intently before asking if he could buy me a drink. I was enamored. We'd gone out the following cold February day. There were so many boxes on my 'want in a man' wishlist he didn't check. But by the end of our conversation, I didn't care, and it didn't matter because I'd texted my best friend to let her know I was going to his house and would be back late. Maybe in the morning.
I was cocooned in the closeness of connection I had been conditioned to crave. Once it showed up, I didn't hesitate to let it consume me.
By the time autumn rolled around and leaves began to pile onto the paths headed toward the closest metro station, our balloon of lust had popped. I was left in what felt like the first true heartbreak I'd experienced in a while. Perhaps it was the first time I truly believed love could be the long-term goal and not some fantasy we were acting out that had no chance of coming true.
After moving to another country, I didn't date for the next three years, and it wasn't until I moved to a different city that I declared I was ready to put myself back out there. I've dated. loosely. I get on the apps, only to delete them weeks, sometimes days, later. I reinstall them late at night a month, maybe days later. I swipe swipe swipe until the options run slim and my eyelids are heavy with sleep. I had a coffee date planned at 6pm yesterday with a man. My neck began to hurt with the way I instinctively turned it over my right shoulder, then back through center and over my left. I waited until shortly after 6:30pm for him to arrive before approaching the counter and saying "la cuenta, porfa" for my flat white before making the short walk home. I think I will delete the app, this time Hinge, later tonight
When I was at a game night, it'd been asked if "we'd ever been in love and if so, how many times?" I was amongst people I mostly didn't know and some I didn't know at all. Hence, they had no idea of my history- my tendency to date for the sake of filling some void I claimed to not have. So when it came my time and all the heads twisted towards me, I shyly and with a tone of defeat and maybe, shame(???), I admitted I’ve never been in love, even though I've told many men I loved them. I've never known love, and so now, in this present day, when people ask me what I want, I struggle to formulate the sentence. I struggle to say I want love. because there is a part of me that wonders if it's possible.
When I read bell hooks’ ‘All About Love,’ it felt like a workbook. When I'd initially been introduced to this particular body of writing, I'd been in a season of romantic solitude. It wasn't intentional on my part, more so my circumstances telling me to have a seat. I was navigating the hard questions life was presenting to me, like “What does it mean to love yourself when your body is no longer a machine to push and produce?" or "When did you learn that love had to be difficult if it was ever available to you in the first place?"
It wasn't until I entered this current chapter that I considered it may be beneficial to pull 'All About Love' back off the shelf. To gently cut through the words and put what I've learned into practice. Frankly, it's hard to show up like I love myself sometimes. As a result, I deny myself the opportunity for others to learn and love me.
“Young people are cynical about love. Ultimately, cynicism is the great mask of the disappointed and betrayed heart.”
― bell hooks, All About Love: New Visions
I'm planning to see Jamila Woods soon, and if you know you know, I've been waiting for this moment for years. Her album 'Heavn' was a safe haven for me and later ‘Legacy! Legacy!’ led me into my ‘louding girl’ era. One track, an interlude at that, stays on rotation in my mind. It picks up like a call with the soft voice stating:
I know it's late but
the question "What type of love do I deserve?"
Is really weighing heavy on my mindI deserve love
in a phone call to just see how I'm doing
Love that doesn't want me to change my appearance
for a family barbecueI hope I look in the mirror
and see love on my skin
I deserve love I don't have to question at 3am
Good morning
I'm learning to love myself, so I'm also learning how to let love in. Maybe one of my fears of saying I want love is this idea of not being worthy of it. I fear I will project this block of not being good enough into every interaction, self-sabotaging, but on autopilot mode. Maybe I fear that I will let myself love someone, and they won't love me back. Maybe I fear I will let myself love someone, and they will love me back. But maybe I fear it won't last forever. Because we're taught that any love that is not forever isn't actually love in the first place. But, can't love be fleeting? Isn't it? What is love if not something we get to construct in a cozy and comforting way? What is love if not the thing we make it out to be?
Questions for reflection:
What type of love do you desire, and how does this contrast with the love you believe you deserve?
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I didn’t know my soul was craving a deep, platonic female love until I found it in a coworker and now I couldn’t imagine living my life without it! We text almost everyday, bring each other care packages when we need them, take trips to IKEA together. It’s been refreshing to find this type of closeness with a friend rather than exclusively with a romantic partner like I always had in the past.
I love Jamila Woods!