On being the punchline of a joke I never understood.

The Dating Circus

In a world filled with dating apps and fleeting connections, I found myself once again embarking on the familiar journey of swiping and matching. Little did I know that this particular encounter would leave me questioning my worth and what the modern dating landscape says about our desire to be in a romantic relationship. Welcome to the circus of modern dating, where I unwittingly became the punchline of a joke I never understood.

Let me introduce you to Hillary, a guy I met on Tinder who seemed different form the rest. We had deep conversations, fancy dates and shared our vulnerabilities. I think back to the time we had an indoor picnic, where he cooked for me and proceeded to share with me his phone password. Which today, solidifies the other party’s genuine interest in you. I remember him falling asleep on my shoulder as I read him a few paragraphs from ‘Love is a Mixtape’. In my journal, I called him “an answered call”, someone who finally made feel like I was participating in an adult relationship, where the other party is always ‘too busy’ with work to text you back. It was the ultimate compromise of being in a meaningful and adult partnership. But our connection, like a delicate tightrope act, lasted only three weeks.

Despite Hillary’s initial interest, he revealed an unexpected aversion to my genuine openness and emotional expressions. According to him, my feelings were too descriptive and diminished his desire for me. If I was to keep a person interested, I wasn’t supposed to express when I missed them or how their smile brightens my day. At most, I was to send messages with heart emojis to express any interest. He suggested that my approach to relationships was naive, unaware of the potential heartache they could bring. Little did I know that his remarks were not just about his past pain but would soon become a cruel mirror reflecting back at me.

In the final week of our connection, I resented myself for allowing someone to ignore me and call me a clown. He eventually sent me the final voice note. “I don’t want this enough” he expressed, I remember his words clearly, and the way they landed like a sharp knife on my heart, because I continued to replay that voice note for several weeks after. “Your openness objectively speaking, deserves reciprocation which I feel is not being received right now” he said. So of course, like the “cool” girl I was, I expressed how cool it was to have met him, to which he responded “likewise, you are a remarkable human being”.

Weeks of silence and self-doubt followed after his departure. I found myself questioning my desirability and feeling disposable. It was as if society’s voice echoed in my mind, telling me that my need for emotional connection somehow rendered me less worthy of love, I was meant to be whole on my own and love myself before trying to receive love from someone else let alone even try to love someone else. I was to build an independence that enabled me to easily detach and instantly recognize “red flags”. In a culture that often prioritizes independence, material success, and emotional rigidity, the value of deep relational connections often gets overlooked.

Hillary’s seeming self-sufficiency and successful career exemplified the qualities lauded in our capitalistic society. But this emphasis on personal achievements can lead to harmful judgements against those who prioritize emotional connections over career pursuits. It sidelines individuals who prioritize emotional connections.

The prevailing notion that one must attain complete independence before entering a relationship further perpetuates the problem. It diminishes the beauty of nuanced relational experiences and stigmatizes vulnerability. Consequently, it encourages people to remain emotionally closed off, hindering growth and meaningful connections.

When the idea of complete self-love is promoted as a prerequisite for relationships, it implies that everyone should aspire to be in a romantic partnership. This can create societal pressure to conform to the norm, making people feel inadequate if they are not in a relationship. It places everything in a binary where the ones that are single, are too busy loving themselves and working on themselves in order to qualify for a relationship, and the ones that are in partnerships have achieved their ultimate healed self.

The emphasis on self-sufficiency can advertently lead to the belief that being alone or single is undesirable or inherently negative. With common phrases, such as “what a shame you’re single, you’re very beautiful” or “it will happen when you least expect it”. Further cementing the idea that those who look for it will not find it. This contributes to the notion that being in a relationship is the ultimate goal and a validation of one’s self worth. Angela Chen says, “Dominance of any idea can be harmful” and this allows us to be open to nuance and regard the different ways in which people relate to each other.

It makes sense now, why it hurt so much that Hilary had left, all these ideas that are prevalent in society were all collectively rejecting me through one person. It’s a reflection of a larger issue, society’s equation of desirability with material success and self-sufficiency. I can also see a reflection of my own bias, why did I want Hillary to like me so badly? Isn’t it because the desire for a partner who seems emotionally unattainable is rooted in the belief that such individuals are more stable and reliable, even more than just in a materialistic sense. Even as I met other available individuals, I couldn’t shake off the lingering feeling of inadequacy. This could be partly because I’m still figuring out my sexuality and don’t really know what it feels like to be attracted to someone.

As consumerism and materialism grip our society, emotional depth and authenticity take a backseat, pushing us towards superficial judgements. What would it mean to step away from the dating circus that reinforces narrow definitions of desirability. Vulnerability, it's like this thread that runs through everything, weaving its way into our lives, yet we pretend it's invisible. We go to great lengths to conceal it, to mask our fears and insecurities, as if vulnerability were a sign of weakness. But what if we stopped hiding it? What if, instead of fearing it, we embraced vulnerability and celebrated it? What would it mean for our relationships or connections with others, wouldn’t we be able transcend societal expectations. Just think about how much courage it takes to be openly vulnerable, yet we regard it as a weakness. This is both terrifying and liberating at the same time.