Loverboy
I think I had trouble trying to write about dating and love, despite both wanting to and having a lot to say, because I was trying to be analytical rather than honest. Which is also to say: vulnerable. I know enough about writing to understand that sometimes turning the idea over in your head too much before starting proposes a challenge. Usually, you think too much or too hard or simply get in your own way. Most of the time, the best thing to do is begin and follow the path that presents itself. So here I am, starting to write about without knowing where I’ll end up. Hoping I feel happy and satisfied with where I land. Which, funnily enough, sounds a lot like falling in love.
Where to begin? Though it is hard for some to believe, I have never had a boyfriend. *pearls are clutched, many women gasp, someone in the back screams in disbelief*.
This isn’t factually incorrect as such, but it also isn’t true. Not exactly. It is like a Daily Mail headline. Clickbait - not untrue, but also misleading. For what it’s worth, using that same logic, I could have ended that sentence by saying: but I have had a girlfriend. Albeit briefly, and in high school. And yes, she went to another school. Of course she did! It was adolescent and not necessarily meaningful but it is technically accurate. You see how absurd it is? A brief lesson in the importance of both reading comprehension and actually reading the article, not just the headline, before we begin.
What I mean when I say I haven’t had a boyfriend, is that I haven’t formally been “in a relationship, like we used to say on Facebook (a reference that I am annoyed reveals so much about my age).
I have dated guys, had serious feelings for a few partners, been exclusive with a few of them even, and had a fair share of lovers and one night stands. Yet I’ve never quite got what I was hoping for. I do not feel ashamed of my experience(s), although I am insecure about the fact the lovers I’ve had (the more ‘serious’ ones - for want of a better term) have historically always danced around the technicalities, wanting to call me anything but the boyfriend, or bowing out before that natural evolution took place. Obviously now I am like: are you fucking mad I would be an unreal boyfriend!!!!!! Plus, you actually got to basically have me as your boyfriend without calling it that. I didn’t know the term MUGGY at the time but it feels deliciously accurate now.
When I was younger I had been briefly nervous, as a young gay person tends to be, about trying to ‘explain’ my sexuality to my parents. This was not an issue in the slightest, couldn’t be further from it - those who know or have met my parents will not be surprised by this, they are the warmest, most caring people, who love me unconditionally. What was a bit more…complicated…let’s say, was trying to explain to my Mum what it meant when I started “seeing” guys….
“So you like him, and he likes you, and you go out together, and you’re not seeing other people? But you’re not in a relationship?”
Exactly, Mum!!! Honestly, points were made.
I have spent a fair amount of time, probably too much, trying to investigate why the sort of love that I have always looked for, dreamt of, seems to have eluded me (at least in a way that’s long term and stable.) These days, I am afraid to report that despite my deep desire to uncover some ‘reason’, I don’t think it is that deep. Much of it has fallen down to bad luck, wrong time, wrong place, wrong person, lack of opportunity. I don’t say that to throw a pity party, something which I am more than happy to host if I feel it is due, more to acknowledge the randomness of what happens in our lives. As an adult you realise that so much is down to chance. I find this to be both frustrating and enchanting, in almost equal measure, although on a good day it is weighted towards the latter.
For a long time, it did feel pretty sad, because I do believe I have a lot of love to give, that I am destined for a life with deep, intimate partnership. I still believe this to be true, but the facts of my romantic life so far is not something I feel overly maudlin about most of the time. I am intentional about this, because it is easy to fall into despair! Sad boy habits die hard!!! I was raised on Tumblr. I have wasted quite a lot of time fretting that I am never going to know what it is like to spend my 20s with a partner, with all of the consistencies and complications that entails. This is again, technically a fact, but I also got something else that those people who are coupled up long term have not known. Is one “better” than the other? Who is to say and ultimately, does it matter? Is it not our job to make our lives, whatever they become, meaningful rather than expect meaning to be thrust upon them by virtue of what happens? Perhaps this is more analytical or even philosophical than I was intending...perhaps I digress, intellectualizing instead of feeling!! ugh
I have always been a romantic. First, I felt, hopelessly so. Later, I decided maybe it was hopeful. Either way, I sometimes fear that I shrink this part of myself as I navigate the sometimes tricky world of being single as I get older. It can be lonely. I don’t think that is shameful to say, but people do find it difficult to hear. I say this and know it to be true despite the fact I have a wonderful support system, lots of friends who are there for me in ways that transcend traditional friend roles’, family who are amazing. I think it’s okay to admit that it is sometimes difficult without a partner, someone who is on your team, knows you intimately & loves you because of it. Someone who is there to help you co-create a life. Who wants to hear about the intricacies of your day. I am obviously not saying that you cannot have this kind of support in a different capacity, I think these things would matter less if it was easier to have a real sense of community or communal living, but that isn’t how most of us live. I also suspect more people would find love if that was the case but that’s another thread altogether.
I think years of being single, especially post COVID lockdown, has hardened me a bit. It can be difficult to admit, even to myself, that I want a love that is expansive and transformative and supportive. I think about me who used to write love poems for guys I was dating. I sometimes forget what it feels like to feel that way. It is easier, obviously, to step into the shoes of the acerbic, witty, empowered, liberated gay man in his 30s. I mean, don’t get it twisted - this is me! And if any lovers, previous or potential, are reading, please do not mistake this exploration of my longing for love as a desire to distance myself from fun. I just fear that it sometimes it can be so fun to play into that role that I neglect the part of myself that actually wants to be in love. It is not that I think I am less without it. It is not that I think it is something I “should” want. It is more that I do want it, and that is okay. And I have come to understand, as life is busier and more challenging, you need to have clarity on what it is you want, otherwise years can pass you by and you find yourself wanting but not having.
“Oh okay! Are you on the apps?” The question every single person dreads to hear. People in (generally speaking - calm down) monogamous heterosexual relationships cannot help themselves. I think it is a biological response, so we shan’t make too fine a point on it. Yes, diva, I’m on ‘the apps’. Which ones do you mean? would be my bitchy, gay best friend answer. Hinge, Tinder, Grindr, Feeld (truly wtf is going on), even Instagram are where many brief, digital dalliances take place. I say this because there is a lot of talk and not nearly enough action for my liking.
They range from the dull (It’s a Match! but no chat or no response), to the frustrating (let’s definitely get a drink soon? that never materializes) to the erotic (use your imagination or DM me I guess).
One of the issues with these digital dalliances is they allow you to dip your toe in the fantasy of intimacy (romantic and/or sexual) without actually having to deal with the altogether more exciting, visceral and embarrassing, sometimes awkward reality. I am probably not qualified to say this but I think we crave more intimacy, romantic and platonic, in our lives, but I’m not sure these apps are helping us get there. Could it be that these apps that had the potential to connect us are actually making us more isolated and sometimes even afraid of what we want? Reader….I think so!
At certain times this has suited me, although arguably not in a healthy or productive way. For various reasons, but ones that usually were routed in avoidance, and therefore also meant I wasn’t getting what I really desired. Over time, that led me to be pretty repressed, despite being ‘out’ for years. It took a while to work through that and actually start to get out there and figure out what I wanted. Nowadays, you can call me old fashioned but I’d much rather do it - the date or the [redacted] - in person!
Of course that can and does happen (Hot Gay Summer soon come), as is ostensibly the intention, but I find that more and more it’s challenging to take it from the apps off the apps.* This is depressing, if not also interesting. I am also guilty and not immune but I feel more aware of a disconnection that is present. I know what I want; but am I getting it through this channel? Mostly, no. Am I still here? Yes. Why? Good question! Or, let’s say, you wouldn’t be blamed for assuming someone on a dating app might want to actually go on a date, but making it happen? Harder than you think!
The thing about talking about doing something, is it feels sort of like doing something…but it isn’t the same as actually doing it. I think this is a compulsion we should be mindful of when it comes to dating, and more generally.
*There’s a lot more to be said about this, but let’s start with Hinge’s tagline “Made to be Deleted” - good marketing, but a terrible and unrealistic business model. Which makes you wonder: do they want you to delete it? Is it, perhaps like every other social media app, designed to be addictive and make you want to spend more time on it rather than less? Therefore: are they lying, or misleading? And don’t even get me started on how these apps have commodified the potential for people finding each other by charging so much money for an enhanced service. I love to waste my own money like the best of them, but £14.99 A WEEK for Tinder plus? That sounds to me like Joanne the Scammer shit. (Not me showing my age again, fml.) Anyway, six people took Hinge to court - read more about that here. ‘Match’s apps, according to the lawsuit filed in federal court in the Northern District of California, “employ recognised dopamine-manipulating product features” to turn users into “gamblers locked in a search for psychological rewards”, generating “market success by fomenting dating app addiction that drives expensive subscriptions and perpetual use”’. Is litigation the answer? Not sure. But were points made? Absolutely.
It can be difficult to remember that what we see on our phones (so much, all the time) isn’t everything. We lose perspective, I fear, of the real world outside of your feed. Even the people we see, whether it’s on dating apps or socials, it isn’t all of them. Someone who didn’t match with you on Tinder might love you in real life - or not! I think it’s important to properly consider that. More and more I feel I miss out on potential opportunities (for romance or otherwise) because the digital realm I inhabit makes me so jaded. You can be swiping for hours and have no luck, but that doesn’t mean that no one out there is attracted to you or wouldn’t want to take you out. That sounds obvious, but it can be hard for your brain and subconscious to not feel like there’s something wrong with you, when it feels like you’re playing a game and you’re losing because of who you are (or how you present yourself on a profile). A graveyard of unanswered Hinge messages isn’t a reflection of your worth, your desirability, your potential for great love. It is more likely an indication of people overwhelmed, overstimulated & fed up with technology and apps. Or any number of things that we cannot reasonably know about what is going on with a person or their psyche that causes them to behave the way they do, despite being on an app that’s meant to help you meet people. Most of us know we have been guilty of it too - I definitely have behaved in ways on these apps which doesn’t feel like a reflection of who I really am. With that in mind, I think it’s worth trying to not take it personally, to remember we never really know what’s going on with people we don’t yet know. And to try, where we can, to use them with more intention. Or at least be honest.
I am indebted to queer and feminist writers, who have helped me reframe how I think about love, life and being single. We are so conditioned socially, and by media and other sources, to think of there being one way to live life, to love, to be fulfilled. Queer and feminist thought critiques this monolithic way of approaching things, which often leaves so many behind, and/or unsatisfied and asks: what if there is another way?
Whilst romantic love has (so far) often been fleeting for me, I am abundant with love in other parts of my life and for that I am so incredibly grateful. If love is one of my values, which I consider it to be, then it is imperative to embrace it in every part of our lives.
In bell hooks’ seminal All About Love, she posits, “To love well is the task in all meaningful relationships, not just romantic bonds.” This singular sentence contains a lot of power - the opportunity to reframe how we think about love, not creating an unnecessary and punishing hierarchy of the different kinds that exist in our lives. It allows us to consider and enact how we could be more loving as a friend. As a neighbour. As a sibling. A child. A parent. A partner. A colleague. A stranger. It feels twee at this point to reference the famous line from Richard Curtis’ Love Actually “If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around" but there could be a more radical way of embracing this concept by also applying hooks’ idea that we should think of love as a verb, not a noun.
“To begin by always thinking of love as an action rather than a feeling is one way in which anyone using the word in this manner automatically assumes accountability and responsibility.”
I find this liberating, particularly as a single person, when I consider that I can create love, that I can be love by taking actions which are loving. I can do this every day. I can focus on it and pay attention to it outside of myself when I feel lonely or adrift, and it helps bring me back to centre. To feeling connected with other people, to something bigger than myself.
When things (in this case, online dating) feel bleak, remembering the bigger picture of love is helpful. Sure, I’ve had bad dates, hilarious ones, frustrating interactions online and in person. The horrors are real, and yet we persist. Not only because they make for great fodder at the pub - one thing about me is I am a brilliant addition to any pub because I am addicted to attention, telling a good story for the crowd and yapping. But also because they are a right of passage of sorts. A colleague at work, who’s slightly older than me, reminded me recently that you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you meet your prince. Which made me smile from ear to ear it was entirely unexpected but impossibly charming.
It is part of the allure of romantic love: it often feels far away and yet the tiniest smile from a stranger can remind you it is possible, that many great love stories begin with a look. It has to start somewhere! Take chances and risks - it’s romantic if it works and it will hurt it if doesn’t, but it won’t kill you. Love is not easy, if it was, would it be so rewarding? Love is messy, unpredictable, enthralling and stressful - but irrefutably worthwhile. I guess the only job I have, if there is one, is to focus on being myself, to honour my values and continue creating a life that is meaningful to me. One I’d like to welcome someone into when the time(s) right. In the meantime, I’ll focus on having fun when I feel like it. I will flirt. Dance. Spend time with with friends. Enjoy my own company. I will meet new people and take chances. I will stay open and be bolstered by the love in my life that is not romantic when I feel like I am losing faith. It can be so healing, to really let that love in. Especially for those of us who are single and feel a yearning in their hearts for something more, who have felt cheated by their luck so far. You want to be ready to receive the opportunity when it knocks on your door, which might be when you least expect it. Recently, after a bad date, I was feeling disheartened, and my best friend, knowing the rollercoaster of my romantic history, without missing a beat, said - someone as wonderful as you deserves someone extra special. Tears rose in my eyes. Not only because I felt so loved in that moment, but also because it was an example of love that helped me agree with her.
“A generous heart is always open, always ready to receive our going and coming. In the midst of such love we need never fear abandonment. This is the most precious gift true love offers - the experience of knowing we always belong.”
bell hooks - All About Love
"someone as wonderful as you deserves someone extra special" - never a truer word spoken! (Ok, it was more than one word).
I may be biased, but I am also completely honest.
"but also because it was an example of love that helped me agree with her."
oof my guy, love that <3