On a Tuesday evening at 9:12 p.m., I hit send on an email to about 10 of my closest girlfriends, all of whom are married. Now divorced for about five months and living on my own, I was ready to be in a fulfilling relationship. The gist of the email explained my frustration with online dating — I had been using it on and off for the past 12 years — and asked them for their help.
“I’m really over the dating app scene and have no single friends (at least none nearby!). I want to try something fun and go out on a limb here — would you be willing to try to set me up with one of your single friends? Just for a fun, casual coffee or dinner. Someone you can totally vet as a nice guy.”
The next day, my best friend from high school, who has known me for more than 20 years, sent me a text with a single question:
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“How do you feel about guns?”
I knew what she was up to, and I was honest. As the child, grandchild and great-grandchild of men who have served in the Navy, I strongly believe in the Second Amendment. That said, I think the average American needs more training (as we do before we are licensed to drive a car) before getting their hands on a gun.
A few hours later, she said her husband’s best friend, Tim, was interested, and asked if she could give him my number.
The following day, Tim called me and asked me out on a date. Brunch on Saturday? Sure! What decade were we living in? Did a man really just call — not text! — a woman he didn’t know and ask her out on a real date?
Our date lasted five hours. After we got kicked out of our brunch spot, we relocated to a coffeehouse for the next four hours. As the picture of him that my friend sent me didn’t allow an immediate judgment, a swipe left or right, nor did she tell me much about him, I had to get to know Tim for who he was. Without a single icebreaker question or dating profile to dissect.
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Conversation was easy and we even discussed some uncomfortable things in our past, such as my divorce. Similarly, I could tell he wasn’t keen on talking about his family; I didn’t know he lived with his parents until our third date, but by then, I was also more ready to talk about my ex-husband.
Share this articleShareOver our first few dates, I learned things about him — such as the fact he has a kid and that he lives in his parents’ house — that would have been dealbreakers if we’d met on Tinder. These biographical details might have stopped me if he had been just a digital representation of a person. But sitting across from him drinking coffee, it’s information I absorbed as part of his whole person. I can see him struggle to explain these could-be-deal-breaker details. But once he looked at me and realized I had no initial reaction, he told me the whole sordid story about his ex-wife. Feeling safe that he feels safe allowed me to open up about other parts of myself — such as my depression and anxiety — that I rarely tell anyone about.
I met my ex-husband on Tinder, and I think this is part of the reason we didn’t last. I was looking for someone who looked good in his picture and also looked good on paper. Based on his profile, I’d already determined that he’d be a great boyfriend. I missed many early red flags because I wasn’t getting to know him. The superficial nature of Tinder did the job for us, allowing him to earn my trust without me getting to know him for he was — which included some pretty bad habits, including drug use and hoarding bills in his name.
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In contrast, my first date with Tim was one of the least awkward first dates of my life, which I attribute to not having specific profile highlights or questions to lean on for icebreakers. I also wasn’t trying to be the persona of my online dating profile; instead, we both showed up empathetic and ready to be open with another, not protective of our false perfection.
Instead of relying on an app’s algorithm, I found that being set up the “old fashioned way” by mutual friends, who can vouch for each other, creates a strong feeling of safety. It made it easy to show up as myself from the beginning of our relationship.
As Tim and I became exclusive, I’ve felt safe to talk naturally and get excited about everything from my career to a good run around the lake. All while I’m not constantly judged against pictures that are years old and a profile that doesn’t quite depict how my life is at the moment. With Tim, there’s never been a need to try to be perfect — just myself.
While I don’t expect to be single again anytime soon, I hope my friends never run out of single friends they can vouch for. They’re the best algorithm around.
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