Dating : How We Leak

We communicate our priorities without knowing it

Online dating is a great way to find out who people are, at least once you get to meet them in all their IRL splendor. Or not, as the case may be.

Our online profiles, on the other hand, have a way of giving away the farm well in advance often without our realizing how we telegraph our truth.

Case in point. This morning I was perusing who had looked at my Match.com profile, and one guy caught my eye. That is, until I read his profile copy.

Every single sentence began with an “I”. This may not seem like a big deal, but when I read other’s profiles which tell stories, make me laugh, reveal much about their vulnerabilities and humanity, the focus on the personal pronoun does rather stand out.

Over time, those impressions tend to bear out. Folks who focus on I, often don’t have a hell of a lot of room for you and me.

On the other hand, the word “you” can be just as revealing. As in:

You have to be pretty, smart, active.

You have to be slim, athletic, lean.

You have to be self-sufficient, nice, well-mannered.

You have to be able to support my lifestyle.

You have to be handsome, athletic, successful.

You..shouldn’t bother unless you’re perfect.

You get my drift.

In other words, in this case, “you” are clearly in service of my “I.”

For men or women, this is the kiss of death, at least in my book.

For my fellow frustrated single buddy Evan, Logical Spiritualism, who recently penned a few pieces about tips for online dating, this is more fodder for the flames.

While I have often made fun of folks who do a poor job of providing a portrait of themselves online, look, I’m still single, too. So there’s a lesson here. My profile copy attracts certain kinds of folks,and repels others. I’ve tried a million different ways. Even a recent very fun, laugh-filled date ended up ghosting me.

Whaddya do? I have no idea. However, this much I do know. Your bio, your profile copy tells a story about your priorities. As the reader, I put those on like clothing. Does this fit me? Does this feel right? Do I feel safe?

If you throw impossible standards at real people, and that means all of us, scars and lumps and bumps and love handles and bad experiences included, then we’re going to bolt. The last thing we need is a pair of shackles which says we cannot just be ourselves.

To me, albeit this has escaped me this life, love seems likely to be found in the litter of our backyards. The lush landscapes, the cool pools, the places of safety and rest. If it bloody well looks like one hell of a lot more work, why on earth should I bother? How is living up to impossible expectations fun? Love wants succor and safety and serenity. It wants acceptance and laughter and permission to play.

How you use language is highly instructive. Are you asking people to come out and play, or come out and be judged inadequate? Which if course, is far more a statement about how we feel about ourselves.

Which is why I said it’s revealing. We leak: our loneliness, desperation, anger, bitterness, fears.

I have too, over the years. Didn’t say it was easy. Just said we leak.

Using online dating? How’s that working out for you? Are you saying things you don’t mean to?

Have a few friends of the sex you’re trying to reach read it over. They’ll tell you if it feels like a hair shirt. Then read it with new eyes.

You might try leaking a little more warmth, love, tenderness, kindness, compassion, permission.

No guarantee. But I’ll bet the odds shift in your favor.