I’m going to tell you all something here. Yes, you. My 3,364 favorite followers. Let’s keep it a secret. I don’t want my regular followers to know just yet.
This is big news. Are you sure you can handle it?
Okay. I’m trusting your judgment of what you can and can’t take in stride. Here goes…
I… Oh my God, I can barely say it. I… deleted Tinder from my phone.
Okay, maybe you don’t give a shit. You really shouldn’t give a shit. But it’s a big deal to me. It’s the first time I’ve deleted it for no reason but to stop dating altogether. In the past I’ve deleted it, but it was always because I was trying (really hard mind you) to be a good boyfriend and actually have a girlfriend.
I will be blogging more over on SDL about all this, but I’m still figuring out the whys and the what nexts. Here’s what I know at the moment…
After carefully scrutinizing my life around New Years, I also started watching “No Tomorrow” on Netflix. On top of my already determined-to-kick-ass mindset, I felt this crazy urge by the end of Season 1 to start living a lot more fucking life.
I also took a hard look around and realized that I will never have the awesome life I want if I surround myself with as many degenerates as constantly as I do. Poker is pretty much my favorite thing, but the environment is less than positive. The very nature of the beast is that if one person is happy, another person is definitely not. There’s no lingering awesomeness in that.
I also took a hard look at dating, and I realized a few things about that…
- I’m tired of it. It’s exhausting. It’s so much work to find someone dateable at all, let alone someone dateable enough that it turns into love. My dates also often don’t get the hint when I’m practically begging them to leave my place already, so I often get sleep deprived. I think I’m going to just start flipping off one light in the house at a time, and activate retail closing protocol.
- I’m tired of spending money on it. It’s so fucking expensive. Dates seem to think alcohol and dinners and desserts are a big free-for-all when they’re not the ones paying. Pretty girls really do seem to think (more often than not) that their good looks entitle them to never paying for anything.
- I am so tired of my dates showing up and either already being in love with me, or putting me down for no fucking reason at all.
Number three actually deserves more attention than what I feel comfortable giving in a numbered list. I’m weird like that. And that phenomenon is very true.
A lot of people think they would like fame. They think they’d like to be popular. They think they’d like a huge social media following. Well, I’ll tell you this much. I don’t know very many people at all who have it and love it. I certainly don’t love it. And here’s why…
Something like 10% of all women I take on dates show up already in love with me. They either know who I am, have followed, or have efficiently stalked me to the point of thinking they’re smitten. I’ve had dates try and commit me on a first date who seem genuinely heartbroken when I’m just not ready for that yet.
It will never work with these women because besides showing up as “fans,” they show up and they think they already know who I am. They have already put together their 100% idea of who I am based on the 2% of my life that I have shared. Needless to say, my other 98% is often not what they had in mind, and eventually their popularity-goggles fall apart.
Those women are annoying, but they’re nowhere near as obnoxious as the other 86% of women I take on dates. The other 86% are what I like to call Place Putters.
These women, usually on the first date, and always by the third date, love to “put me in my place.” Sometimes they do it within the first ten seconds of meeting.
They put me down. They belittle me. They diminish my accomplishments. They tell me just how important I’m not.
“Just so you know, I’m not impressed with what you do or anything.”
“I should probably tell you that I don’t think you’re all that cool.”
“FYI, I don’t follow you, and I refuse to ever read your stuff.”
The list could go on. And on. And on.
Why do my dates do that? Why do they feel a need to bring me down, or put me in my place, or tell me how unimpressive I am before I’ve even said “nice to meet you, too.”
If I was an arrogant and pompous douchebag, walking around a foot taller than I actually am, I’d understand it. But… I’m not.
I pretty much never ever bring up my blog. Or my following. Or my success in the social media world.
I assure you, nobody thinks I’m as unimportant in the social realm as I do. Nobody knows as well as I do that if I disappeared from everyone’s feeds tomorrow, I’d be more or less forgotten by Sunday.
As a man (and a date), I’m kind. And thoughtful. And funny. And interested in my dates and their lives. I’m interested in what they do. I’m interested in their successes and failures.
I don’t meet up with them and tell them, “just so you know, I’m not impressed that you worked your fucking ass off to get your degree, and then worked off a second ass to achieve success in your place of employment.”
I don’t go on a date and tell her, “hey, I don’t think you’re awesome. Like, at all.”
I certainly don’t show up and say, “I’m telling you up front that no matter what you do or why you do it, I will not be supporting it.”
Yet, that’s what women do to me all the time.
That was hyperbole. And you already know it’s only 86% of the time. But you catch my drift. My dates do that. People do that. Strangers have done it in the grocery store. It’s bizarre human nature.
Sigh. I know why they do it. It’s obvious why they do it. They do it as a preemptive strike to me having the chance to feel like I’m more important than they are because of my “popularity.” It’s a Tanya Harding blow to my knees to make sure I stay humbled enough to date someone “so common” as they are. Simply put, it’s insecurity shining through in all the most glorious ways.
I’ve started just cutting my dates off when they do it. “Let me just stop you right there,” I tell them, and then gently educate them that there’s no need to put me in my place.
I mean, come on. I showed up for the date in the first place because I was interested and thought we might be compatible. I didn’t show up thinking I was better or more important. I didn’t show up because I was hoping for a fangirl. I didn’t show up with my nose sky high in the air and my chest puffed out, waiting for someone less important to beat on it for me.
All people are just people. Popularity and fame are nothing but mirages in the desert of what could be. I like what I do, and I’m content with what I do, but I don’t think what I do makes anyone else lesser than.
Anyway, that was a reeeeeaaaaaaly long tangent rant. My bad.
It did leave us with 4% of unaccounted-for dates. Those 4% of dates are awesome and don’t do ridiculous shit like that. They’re women who look at me like anyone else, or just for the writer I consider myself to be. Those 4% generally make dating worth it.
But… They’re hard to find, and I am tired of it all at the moment. The 96% has crashed my internal dating server. But even more importantly, I have those big upcoming plans for living life a lot more than usual over the next year. So, I removed Tinder. God, it felt good.
I also walked away to take a long break from the poker scene. That was not easy.
I also dusted off those parts of my brain that have been neglected of late. You know, the parts that say, “do this because you enjoy it,” and “do this other thing because you’ve always wanted to,” and, “you’re gonna be old as fuck soon. Get on all that before your ship has sailed.”
Stay tuned on SDL for the more positive, less ranty, super kumbaya version of my vision, plans, goals, and hashtags for the upcoming year of epic amazing fantastic super crazy fun enlightening nifty awesomeness. <<Also, don’t hate me for my lack of commas. It was a conscious decision that I am kind of regretting as I type.
Dan Pearce | The Dan Pearce Blog