21st Century Dating - Lisa Meader


Can you imagine being single after 12 years?At the age of 35? With two kids?

I can, because it happened to me exactly one year ago. It’s a whole new colourful world of madness. Once you get over the novelty of being able to touch someone new and shiny you realise two important things:
A. It’s a fucking circus and B. It’s a fucking circus. My single days in my early 20’s involved tequila shots, grinding on sticky dance floors, awkward sex that smelt of tomorrows regret and an obligatory morning phone number exchange. Way more straight forward than the online dating fiasco of the 21st century. The online dating game is rejection in your own lounge room and most of the time you’re not even drunk.
It can go one of two ways. The first is an exchange of messages in which you get to know the important stuff… work, interests, music tastes, craft beer preferences, penis size, and travel destinations.
Mostly this exchange of messages will fizzle out because
A. someone cuter with better taste in beer starts messaging you or B. someone cuter with slightly larger boobs starts messaging him.
The other way it can go, is that the messaging leads to a date. These dates generally start quite awkward until A. you get drunk to make it bearable or B. you get a friend to bail you the out using one of your ‘sick’ kids as an excuse. Occasionally a date will be nice. But nice doesn’t make relationships, mind blowing orgasms do. Amongst a couple of other things.  The other term you will need to get familiar with is “cat fished” because this is an actual thing. This involves an individual posting pictures of themselves from 10 years ago when they were 20kg lighter and their faces were a whole lot smoother. They look cute so you make a plan to meet with them, then they arrive and look so vastly different from their images that you are genuinely surprised when they come over to say hi. You try to stay poker faced but the disappointment is written all over your very single head. Cue ‘bail out’ phone call from caring friend. It may seem shallow, but hey a good relationship starts with honesty, doesn’t it?

Another term I recently heard to describe this is “Tinder Surprise”. Quite fitting - you never actually know what you’re going to get. I had one particularly bad date that nearly put me off online dating altogether. I decided I was over the whole time consuming process of sending endless messages and would meet this guy based on a few simple exchanges via text and a grainy selfie of someone who looked reasonably ok.
Big, big mistake.
This poor guy was so socially awkward that he could barely put two words together, so naturally I over compensated by talking too much to make up for the uncomfortable silences. We went to sit down on the grass and he let a massive fart slip out, to which I responded with a nonchalant “happens to the best of us” to make him feel better. Looking like he was going to die, he literally just sat their sweating bullets listening to me talk rubbishtil’ I text through the ‘bail out’ phone call after the longest half hour date of my measly single life. Left pronto and got a text an hour later from him offering me money for sex. Even on my off pay week I wasn’t tempted, maybe just mildly curious to know much he thought I  was worth. Powering this desire to not be single is an innate human need to coexist with other living organisms. I learnt a term the other day that describes this desire, it’s called Biophilia. A human need to be connected to other humans and nature. And I am a self-confessed biophile. I love humans. Fearlessly. 
But I also know what I want in a human that’s going to coexist with me. Coming back into the singles game after such a long time is scary. Times have changed. Sex is as easy as a right finger swipe. Relationships are a whole other ball game. Ending a 12-year relationship to settle for something mediocre would be a practise in self sabotage. You should set your standards high, know what you want and be on your game. It’s a circus out there in singledom even if your craft beer taste is on point and you’ve been to Tanzania.
Might be time to get a cat.