On Staying Hopeful

A few days before my birthday I received an email stating that my PayPal account was charged with another six month membership for Match.com.

I immediately started to cry-- mostly because I was mad.

Mad that I had forgotten to cancel the account, mad because $129 was not in my budget for that week (or month, really), mad because not even a week beforehand I quietly swore off online dating for good because no good has ever come from it.

I allowed myself five minutes of hysteria and then put myself back in action-- Tiff would be at my house the following day and there was a lot I needed to do beforehand.

It was actually around Tiff's first visit that I started online dating -- some 16 months ago. At that time, I had only spent $15 on a Groupon for Match and was more or less seeing what all the fuss was about.

During her visit I was encouraged to also download Tinder. And while scrolling through that, I realized many of the same men were on Match. And how could they be on both? And what type of game were they trying to play? It was my first eye-opening experience in the land of online dating. And while Tinder has brought its fair share of entertainment, and taught me quite the lesson about myself and others, I've said goodbye to it - for good.

I was hoping to say goodbye to Match, too-- that is, until I was charged for it again.

So, a few days after Tiff left, I decided that if I was paying for it, I might as well use it. I updated my profile, changed some pictures around, and set about scrolling through profiles of eligible men.

I hate it, you know. I hate looking at someone's profile, and attempting to figure out if he'd be a good match for me. I've always said that I don't have a type, but rather a feeling. And the only feeling I get when looking through profiles on a dating app is sadness. And sometimes, nausea.



It's been a month since I began writing this post. A month of redundant weeknights, and busy weekends. A month of going back and forth between deleting Match and trying to make an honest go of it. A month of people telling me that I'm a catch and I'll find someone soon.

A month of me thinking: I don't know how to end this post, because this post really doesn't have an ending yet. There's just me, with a little bit of grit, and some hope-- along with the notion that the Universe will bring me what I need at the exact moment I need it most.