I opened Facebook Dating looking for a little sizzle. I found fish, trucks, and a constitutional question.
I decided I might be ready to date.
This realization did not arrive with trumpets, butterflies, or a sudden conviction that it was Time To Find Love Again. Mostly, I noticed that life was beginning to feel rather good. I was enjoying my days. I wasn’t waiting for someone to come back. I could imagine meeting someone new without immediately comparing him to the person who came before.So, out of curiosity, I opened Facebook Dating.This was perhaps my first mistake.I had been reading Burn the Haystack, which encourages women to stop giving every dating profile the benefit of an elaborate imaginary backstory and instead pay attention to what a man actually tells you about himself. This sounded sensible. I have spent a fair portion of my life giving people context they never actually provided, so perhaps it was time to stop writing supporting briefs for strangers.Facebook Dating immediately provided ample opportunity to practice.Apparently every man over fifty is looking for a “partner in adventure” who “loves to laugh,” “doesn’t take life too seriously,” and—this appears to be very important—brings “no drama.”There were motorcycles. Golf carts. Beaches. Sunsets.There were fish.So many fish.I have nothing against fishing. Fishing is a perfectly respectable pastime. But after an hour on a dating app, I began to wonder whether possession of a largemouth bass was somehow required before a man over fifty could legally seek companionship.There were also several men whose entire contribution to the getting-to-know-you process was some variation of “Ask me anything.”Sir.That is not a profile.That is homework.So I started blocking.At first, every block required a small congressional hearing in my head.Am I being too picky?Maybe he isn’t good at writing.Perhaps I should give him a chance.Maybe “partner in adventure” means something interesting.It did not.Gradually, something shifted. I stopped trying to determine whether each man was objectively worthy of being dated and started asking a much simpler question: Do I want to know more about this person?Sometimes the answer was no.And remarkably, no turned out to be a complete sentence even when nobody had done anything wrong.This was new territory for me.I have historically been very good at understanding people. I can usually imagine why someone behaves the way they do, what might have happened to them, what they may have meant, what fear might be underneath something they said. Compassion is one of the things I value most about myself.But compassion has a sneaky little cousin called rationalization.And apparently she has been helping me date.Once I stopped supplying missing information, the Block button became considerably easier to operate.Then another interesting thing happened.Nothing.Absolutely nothing.I wasn’t excited.I wasn’t nervous.I wasn’t getting that little Oooh, who’s next? feeling.I wasn’t frightened, either. I wasn’t sitting there thinking about my former relationship or wondering whether I would ever love someone again. I wasn’t imagining myself dying alone surrounded by embroidery supplies and half-read mystery novels.I was staring at Facebook Dating thinking:Good Lord, this is a lot of work.That stopped me.Because I had been asking myself whether I was ready to date.Maybe that was the wrong question.I am ready in many ways. I am free to date. I can imagine loving someone again. I know much more clearly what I want and what I don’t want. I can recognize attraction. I can say no. I can apparently operate a Block button with remarkable speed and very little remorse.All of that is evidence of healing.None of it means I currently want to date.There is a difference between freedom and desire.I think somewhere along the way I had quietly assumed that once I was sufficiently healed, dating would naturally be the next step. Relationship ends. Grief happens. Lessons are learned. Woman emerges wiser and emotionally healthier. Woman downloads dating app. Montage begins.But healing isn’t a conveyor belt.There is no next required station.An empty space in my life isn’t necessarily a vacancy.I don’t have to staff it.That realization felt surprisingly peaceful. I didn’t need to delete the app in disgust or announce that I was finished with men forever. I also didn’t need to keep swiping because I’d gone to all the trouble of making a profile.I could simply stop.The ability to open a door does not create an obligation to walk through it.And maybe readiness isn’t established merely by the absence of fear. Maybe there also needs to be some desire. Some curiosity. Some sense of possibility.Maybe even a little sizzle.The Court was prepared to rule.Then one man made me stop.His profile was interesting. He was attractive. Smart. Educated. Politically compatible. He had written actual sentences about himself, which by this point felt positively revolutionary.And suddenly, instead of asking myself, Do I want to know him? I caught myself wondering:Would someone like him want someone like me?Oh.Hello, Craig, my inner critic.Craig had apparently been waiting quietly in the gallery for a more promising candidate.The man was younger than I was. He was wearing a suit in one photograph, and that suit managed to carry several decades of my own history. I knew that world. I had lived in that world. And within seconds I had constructed an entire man from one photograph.Corporate.Probably not interested in wandering through peculiar little museums. Probably not stopping at roadside diners because someone heard they have excellent pie. Probably not going wherever the road happens to lead because we saw an interesting sign.And perhaps, somewhere underneath all of that: Probably wouldn’t want me anyway.Except I didn’t know any of those things.I knew he owned a suit.That was the evidence.So I didn’t block him.I didn’t pursue him, either.For once, I let insufficient information simply be insufficient information.His job was to decide whether he wanted me.My job was to decide whether I wanted to know him.The Court declined to rule.And that probably would have been the end of the case.I had learned something useful. I was capable of dating. I wasn’t particularly interested in doing it. I could leave the door unlocked without standing in the doorway waiting for someone to arrive.Perfectly reasonable.Case closed.Except…The next day, I opened the app again.Well, hello there.Court to reconvene.