I met my husband through online dating in late 2012. Prior to that I had been familiar with dating online, around 2009-2010ish. In total I spent give or take three years on dating sites, before there were dating apps, with a 2-year relationship in between. While I know online dating has changed and come a long way since then, I wanted to share what the experience was really like (for me) until I met my husband.
Many will ask if dating online is something I regret doing, regardless of meeting my husband in the end, and truthfully I would still say no, I don’t regret it. While I PROMISE there were certainly good parts overall, this post focuses on the not-so-pleasant but very real side of my experience.
In no way is this meant to discourage, but to prepare you. The thing is, dating is hard, whether you’re doing it the all natural way or through dating apps. You choose your hard.
What online dating was really like until I met my husband
As a former online dater with online dating success (meaning, I met my now husband from dating online), the insight and opinions I dish are solely based on my personal experience. Everyone’s personal experience will be different, so this post is not meant to discourage but to help you be more aware and lead with caution while remaining hopeful. If you have any personal or specific questions, feel free to reach out to me!
People were (are) shallow *by nature
I mean this with Love, but…we’re all pretty shallow in nature. We just like to call it having preferences – which is fine, but that doesn’t guarantee we won’t experience unanticipated pushback! We just have to be ready to endure.
Nonetheless, I quickly noticed just how shallow people really are (yes, including myself). The online dating scene only seemed to make it more in your face, like shallowness on steroids. Yet it’s somehow deemed acceptable, in the name of not wasting time (ours and others’), even if we don’t want it to be.
For starters, I had plenty of guys flat out ask (or demand) for more pictures – as if the ones on my profile clearly did not suffice. Some were ballsy enough to ask for ones in detail, or real-time photos! So, yeah, people were overly concerned with the validity of how people looked in pictures.
While nobody wants to be deceived or fooled, that’s part of the accepted risk we signed up for when dating behind a computer screen.
Do we only define shallowness as solely pertaining to looks? Physical attraction plays a major part, yes, but I still think it goes much deeper than that. When we think of the word shallow, it literally means not deep, so we could say shallow is to be superficial or surface-level. Extreme knit-pickiness could be a good alternative. Therefore I really don’t think looks or attraction are the only contenders for shallowness.
I also said shallowness included myself. So here it is: Today we use the term *ick*, so I had an ick for guys who weren’t very literate. I wouldn’t respond to those who simply *couldn’t/*refused to spell or speak/”type” coherently if their life depended on it. I also wasn’t interested in dating anyone who was divorced or had kids. I can willfully admit that’s all pretty superficial of me.
That said, I can also bet guys didn’t respond, or stopped talking to me based on something I said or how I responded, too. Or, frankly, they just didn’t like my answer and moved on without a hitch.
Online dating still made people unapproachable
I really don’t know of any other way to explain this but that many (as a collective, or the overall vibe) still came across as unapproachable. Guarded, lack of initiative or aloofness, maybe? Being more introverted and shy, I should know because someone like me is notorious for coming off as unapproachable (through body language).
This level of indifference I noticed was especially being emulated in people’s bios – without ever having to get to know them first hand – that just seemed so…standoffish. Some had it in them to write things like, “Don’t message me if you…[have kids, don’t have a job, are Christian, are a crazy b*tch, etc.]” And that’s putting it lightly.
*Quality* guys were NOT a dime a dozen
I really don’t mean for this point to come across the way it sounds…but then I would be straight up lying. Everyone defines *quality* different. Besides, what I defined as quality at the unripe age of 19 is DEFINITELY polar opposite to how I would define it now. So let that be your guide.
In this case it’s easier to pin point the other way around since it’s what I encountered the most. I was approached by and interacted with more guys who were awful communicators, lacked emotional maturity and failed to take me (and the experience) seriously. Bing-botta-boom.
In detail, many lacked self-control and patience, were disrespectful in the name of *humor*, wishy-washy, easily triggered by certain questions, and despised being called out for immature shenanigans (i.e., using curse words, going MIA for days, saying something inappropriate or insensitive, etc.).
Some were very open and forward about their personal views and beliefs – I remember one referring to his belief that women *belong in the kitchen*. Others also seemed to have no problem coming down unusually hard about mine – I was called all the names in the book for describing myself as a more *traditional* woman.
I know I said we are to prepare for unanticipated and unwarranted pushback, which is still true, and this pertains to why.
There were so many aggressive and passive-aggressive landmines
Online dating is passive in and of itself. I mean, we have far more flexibility and control behind a computer screen – er, our phone now – as well as having a level of confidence we may not normally in person. I honestly believed most people would be flourishing in this element, right? Wrong – oh, so wrong.
The level of passive-aggressiveness I experienced from online dating was unreal. Worse, in fact, since communication through dating apps aren’t face-to-face and don’t have body language, facial expressions or tone to consider.
In case you were uncertain, a passive-aggressive person expresses their frustration, anger, bitterness or resentment in an indirect, evasive or covert way, such as through sarcasm, hints, denial, confusion or distortion.
Ohhhh, you want examples. Why didn’t you just say so?
- Backhanded compliments that are meant as an insult; “Wow, you actually responded to my question with a question – good job!“
- Snarky or sarcastic comments that are intended as criticism
- Using humor to deflect or avoid an issue
- Making excuses or blaming others for your mistakes and shortcomings; “My EX was such a b*tch. She drove me to cheat because I couldn’t trust her, so it’s not exactly my fault.“
- Going silent or withholding communication as a way of punishment
- Hinting at their feelings rather than stating them directly
- Has a gloomy, hostile or somber attitude
- Gets snippety (hyper-sensitive) when they’re not getting what they want; “It says you’re online but you’re not talking to me. So who else are you chatting with? That’s messed up..“
- Uses intentional inefficiency; “Sure, I’m down to meet up if you are. *…crickets…*“
- Silent scorekeeping
- Rehashes proclaimed “resolved” feelings or conflict
- Insists they are constantly being misunderstood; “That’s not what I meant – you misread what I said. Why am I always made out to be the bad guy?“
- Distances themselves or is avoidant without saying why
- Communicates the bare minimum to get the other person to read their mind
- Gets frustrated or shuts down easily
Hey, wait, I said aggressive, too. As if I haven’t stressed the level of keyboard warriors online, this level of aggression I experienced takes the cake.
- “F*ck you.“
- “I hope the guy you end up with leaves you.“
- “Go to hell.“
- “You stupid b*tch.“
- “You’re ugly, bye.”
- “Good luck being alone.“
Guys were absolute savages for newcomers
As if Ok Cupid, at the time, wasn’t enough proof of shallowness, I left there to join Plenty of Fish. It was like I had entered a meat market. Except…I was the fresh meat. I don’t think I had ever felt so…objectified…in my life.
I know many of you are thinking, “fWAJFIweUJR#!9u3e22jijfweklj” right now about POF, but lo and behold that is where I did end up (eventually) meeting my husband. Besides, back then as a poor college student I wasn’t about to pay for Eharmony (though my husband’s good friend met his wife from there) or Match.com.
Anyway, back to the meat market. Guys were downright savages. Just picture a bunch of starving men shoving themselves to the front of the line to get their grubby hands on a bucket of sloppy chicken wings. I mean really picture it – their wide-eyed, licking their fingers, sucking the bones dry and all.
If you were the *new*, hot and fresh account, you were bombarded with messages. Maybe this isn’t everyone’s experience, but it was mine. And I could see right through those who probably copy and pasted the same scripted message to me and 10+ other accounts that day. Though, trust me when I say it didn’t last for long before all went seemingly quiet.
You know how I know this savagery to be true? Because, in time, even *I* caught myself refreshing the tab (yes, this was before Apps even existed) every day – multiple times a day – for NEW people. I hate to make it sound like it was easy to breeze through the *roster* of accounts they matched you with, but to be fair I had set my distance radius to like twenty-five miles. I just wasn’t looking for a long distance relationship that exceeded the typical work commute for my area of town.
So, for me, there weren’t a ton of accounts provided for me, but every so often new accounts would pop up. And I’m not going to lie when I say I was on it like a fly on sticky paper. Granted, did that mean I crashed into their DMs like a wrecking ball? No, but I definitely scouted.
There really is a point to this one, and maybe there are many. Could it be the fact the pickings were slim? To an extent, yes. Was there competition? Inarguably – *shh, I peeked on the other side to see who I was up against.
Nonetheless, the absolute savagery (as gruesome as it was) in the first half was real, but don’t let it fool you.
In “slow seasons” guys operated like a Merry-Go-Round
You know how I said above I would scout for new people that showed up (basically, refreshing for new profiles)? Well, I was on POF the longest – maybe a little over a year’s time in total. I went on a couple casual dates, had a 2-year relationship in the mix before re-activating my account, and throw in a several month long non-committal fiasco.
Then, then I met my husband.
I digress. During that time it really wasn’t unusual to experience “slow seasons”: a period of time where there weren’t very many new people joining, and honestly, no one available was that interesting. It sounds more awful than it is, unless you’re the guy who decided to get on the Merry-Go-Round.
Yup, I had guys come back after failed first attempts two and even three times around. And I’m talking weeks and even months later. They told me I was a fallback without needing to tell me, LOL.
Word to the wise: if you’re experiencing a slow season online, do yourself a favor – deactivate and take some time off.
Even for the earlier 2000s, there were so many *fake* accounts
Too many to remember, honestly. Now, please, go ahead and basically combine the above points with this one. I am really going to do my best not to shatter the hopes and dreams of those reading up to this point, but I’m supposed to be real with you. And that’s what I’m going to do.
Too many often think fake accounts look and sound obviously fake – robotic, even. This is true, yes, because there were plenty of bot accounts that came and went on a regular basis, and were fairly easy to dodge/block.
But are we really going to be that narrow-minded when it comes to the definition of a *fake* profile? Sure, you have to determine this for yourself, but here’s what I considered fake:
- A programmed software or bot (i.e., sending spammy information or links for completely irrelevant things or requesting sensitive information).
- A human being behind the account, but these individuals were seeking ulterior motives (i.e., money, personal information, etc.).
- A human being behind the account, but these individuals created a fake profile with fake pictures (i.e., catfishing).
- A human being behind the account, but these individuals weren’t seeking real-life relationships (i.e., sugar daddies, green card).
- A human being behind the account, but these individuals were solely after s*x (i.e., sending and asking for nudes, wanting to meet up without even getting to know you).
[Related Read: 4 Red Flag DMs you should block, delete and ignore]
…and the list could honestly go on. I imagine dating apps are much different now, whether for the better or worse in this case I wouldn’t know. That’s why each individual must make their own determination on what’s *fake*. As for me, back then, fake accounts were still running rampant though they weren’t the majority – thank God. Yet they were noteworthy enough to include in this post, sooo, there’s that.
Rejection was to be expected in full force
I don’t know if people think online dating somehow exempts them from experiencing rejection, or that rejection won’t be as painful. Or do we expect more from people to do the right thing – that we are without excuse since we’re hiding behind a screen? Either way, rejection is a part of life, and so is disappointment. It is impossible to avoid experiencing both.
I received a lot of messages upon joining POF right out the gate. That doesn’t mean I replied to every single one of them. I also messaged people that were left unanswered, as well as having people I was talking to for days or weeks *disappear* into thin air. I even had some change their mind all of a sudden, or have to decide between me and someone else they were conversing with (and I lost).
If I was to survive online dating, I knew my confidence was not to be rattled or unhinged by rejection from someone I hardly knew let alone wasn’t invested in.
Besides, I rejected people, too. Talking to multiple people at once, I also went through the process of elimination. Sure, some people who initially reached out to me I ignored, yes. I did not want nor had to converse with every single person who messaged me. That being said, no answer is an answer, and I find this was more widely understood and accepted back then – especially before texting and apps.
I can’t say that’s the same now. So when people don’t get the closure [answer] they want or expect (or for redemption to ultimately go their way), there’s almost this new sense of entitlement – to payback, vengeance, cursing, threats, name-calling or aggression in general.
For instance, I had many respond to rejection with some shred of a clap back, like, “Okay, fine, b*tch.” This happened whether I took the time to reply or not. Others took my silence as their hint without contest, therefore silence was understood as, “I’m not interested.” Bottom line is, the way those reacted to rejection sticks out in my memory over the many times I was the one rejected.
So, IMO, how someone handles or receives rejection says just as much about them. With its common occurrence online, rejection is something to anticipate, without taking it too personally, rather than to get used to (and become desensitized to).
Other resources pertaining to online dating and my personal online dating experience
My 50+ Secrets to Online Dating Success
Online dating post lockdown – how C19 made its impact on dating apps
Here’s what every successful online dating profile contains
Online dating is the new normal, so then why is it so hard?
I met my husband through online dating – you can find Love, too!
Actually, they’re not ghosting you, and here’s why
