I was a little creeped out when I first opened Bumble.
It feels almost invasive to know someone is out there
looking at pictures of me underscored by wimpy responses to “mountains or
beach” or “3 truths and a lie.” I just don’t like to think that hundreds of
dudes are swiping left because the light hits my face in an unagreeable way in
three out of five pictures or that I’m a hard pass because I toggled seeking
“relationship” instead of “something casual.”
I promised myself (one of my 25 goals) I’d dive into the
world of online dating, get on an app or two, try a website, really “put myself
out there.”
What they don’t tell you is how opposite-Melissa Fitzpatrick
the entire process would be (there should be a warning in bright red letters).
There’s no fine print explaining how app-dating could leave you feeling hollow
and even more single than before you created a profile and unabashedly picked
out pictures depicting who you are (me cheesily grinning with my snowman ice
cream cake made the cut).
I admit, I too mostly swiped left, as my parents taught me
to always be hyper-selective when it came to matters of the heart. Boy-like
(excuse me, manly) faces flew by, as my 3.78 second analysis of their picture,
occupation, height, and favorite pastimes calculated in my brain whether or not
this person could be my Saint Joseph (I know, big ask).
Would I really find the man I’d marry here?
-------------------
I felt numb and so uncomfortable as I double checked my
alarms were set, locked my phone and climbed into bed. I matched with a guy on
Bumble (meaning we both were brave enough to swipe right) and had started an
innocent conversation (on Bumble women make the first move, it's one redeeming feature #femalepower).
The guy was nice enough, going back and forth asking
appropriate “get to know you” questions. Still, after a short while (I’m
talking 15-20 minutes) I was bored. I stared at my glowing screen and realized
I had little to no interest in this person. So what was I even doing?
When he asked me out for a drink I made some lame excuse
about being really busy and before I knew it our conversation had disappeared
from my feed (AKA he literally deleted his interest in me...just like that).
Since then, I’ve been the culprit of ghosting many; simply
stopped responding to the conversation. Why? Because it didn’t feel right.
Because I know that the chances of me meeting Pierre, Mike, Nick, David, Matt,
Steve (sorry boys) on the street are slim to none. Because I’m honestly still
holding out for the dream that I’ll hear footsteps as my future husband walks
down the church aisle during adoration, taps my shoulder and asks me to pray
the Rosary with him (maybe not exactly that, but you get my point).
And so, I’m left with that familiar emptiness, an achy
hunger and worry (as I feel my biological clock slowly chipping away).
-------------------
Confident in a greater power, my eyes turn to Christ,
begging to be led to love in a committed life-long companion.
His answer to my plea echoes in my heart:
Sweet Melissa, your heart is not yet ready for what I have
planned. Don’t grow weary. Look around, for I have already surrounded you in
Love.
It’s in deep conversations as you and your buddy get caught
in a snow squall but choose to push through the “potentially dangerous
conditions” so you can make it to taco and marg night.
It’s having a grandma, a grandpa, a nana, and many aunts you
can call when you feel lonely on your drive home or having a spiritual mother
to slide next to at Mass and hear her whisper, “Today I’m praying for you and
your future spouse.”
It’s seeing your best pal for dinner, carpooling to the gym
the next morning, showering in neighboring stalls, and spending the evening
with more friends swapping clothes and drinking wine.
It’s running into your Massachusetts mother (and her actual
mother) at the movie theater and feeling your heart soar because anywhere she
is, there’s a wave of comfort only moms exude.
It’s your roommates standing outside in the cold waiting
with you (with smiles) for your car to get jumped or the comfort in knowing
your best gal will literally run to you when you’re stuck on an icy hill (I clearly
have a lot of car problems).
It’s having an entire conversation with a coworker with just
one look across the room or getting a text simply letting you know that you’re
an exceptional friend, that you set the bar pretty high.
It’s having parents in a 30 year old marriage who gift each
other a toilet seat, instillation of said seat, and a kiss for Valentine’s Day
(no I did not make this up).
No, sweet one, I have not abandoned you.
And with a knowing smile and gentle nudge He signs off:
Love, Your Valentine
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