Nervously guiding your unsteady hands across the keyboard, you manage to cobble together a rudimentary online dating profile, perhaps even featuring that one rare photo which managed to capture your good side last year — or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. The summary you’ve devised feels like a fabrication; it’s equal parts who you think other people want to meet (an ambitious, forward-thinking lightning rod of confidence who enjoys holding small domesticated animals) and quirky enough to send signals to like-minded individuals who enjoy knitting sweaters featuring Gizmo of Gremlins fame. In truth, the result is incongruence — like the image you semi-successfully project to others versus your internalized anxieties. It’s the groundwork for self-sabotage, and you’ve just hit the “submit” button.
The butterflies in your stomach churn to produce mild perspiration as the ambivalence sets in: What if interest is non-existent? Should I message first? What’s wrong with me? Maybe I’m too unattractive for anyone to consider; maybe it won’t be so bad.
Every passing hour without a notification of interest lowers your self-esteem, until it finally hits rock bottom when seemingly attractive individuals view your profile but refrain from messaging. Oh, god ... I’m ugly, aren’t I? You want to step away from your computer or power off the phone, but the need for validation from total strangers feels like a necessity to stop the anxiety that bleeds internally.
You agonize in solitude because mental health issues are still stigmatized (let alone anxiety over a dating profile), waiting for the first sign that you aren’t the complete cretin you’ve made yourself out to be. Finally, like the heavens parting to the sound of the “Hallelujah” chorus from Handel’s Messiah, a glimmer of hope arrives packaged with a classically attractive face that reads, “Hi.” After scouring their profile, checking out the two professional-looking photographs available, and constructing an over-eager response, you shoot it off into cyberspace with bated breath.
Almost instantaneously, a notification arrives, jump-starting your heart because you’re in disbelief at the prospect of a modelesque hunk or babe being interested in an anxious mess. The brand new, color-coded message opens, and it reads, “Wanna get 2 know me? Follow this link 2 reach my private xxx cam room. U won’t regret it. ;]” You’ve been had: It’s a total farce. The all-too-familiar anxiety morphs into an almost tangible depression that forces you into your covers for hours in a dark room, away from all that triggers. Continue reading
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