The other day I found myself collating photos into an album called ‘use for Hinge’. Selfies, photos in bars, parties, with my housemate’s cat to all prove I’m a normal, fun, gorgeous human that is willing to put herself out there.
Before I could hit the download button on the app store, though, I stopped myself. What am I doing this for? Who am I doing this for? If I download Hinge again, what good is really going to come of it?
Granted, I met my ex-boyfriend on Hinge so evidently some good can come from the godforsaken app but right now, two months into my new singledom, I thought I’d be ready to put myself out there again, scope out the men, and maybe indulge in some attention from them.
But all I can muster up emotion-wise is indifference. I stopped myself from downloading it because I don’t think it’d do me or anyone else any good. I don’t want to get on the apps and men to assume I want something with them which I don’t - I just want to be on there long enough to believe I’m beautiful and fresh and fun again.
I’ve been a disliker, a hater of men, for a very long time, but in amongst all my hatred I still wanted them to notice me. I still wanted to be perceived by them, for them to give me attention, for them to like me on Hinge so I can then just reject them. For them to ‘flames’ react to selfies put on Instagram stories akin to Gatsby’s green light. It was about having the upper hand, the control. But right now, men won’t be able to even give me that.
Nothing they can do right now will add anything to my life. I’ve been using the excuse since being dumped that I’m busy. Busy with work, busy running, busy seeing friends and it’s true. I don’t know where I’d fit dating into a life which has different priorities than it did a year ago, or two years ago. Boys have been my priority since I got my first crush at six-years-old so it’s a nice breath of fresh air finally - but I also just think I don’t really care. I don’t care if men find me attractive anymore, I don’t care if they watch my story, or send me a message. I don’t care about desperately trying to find someone to give my number to or snog on a night out, I don’t care about filling my evenings up with someone who I will never see again, listening to them hammer home about Death Grips or how they’re ‘not that into politics’ or their mind-numbing stories about being ketted out their face whilst in a club in Thailand. I just don’t care.
They say the opposite of love isn’t hate, but indifference. So maybe my old hatred of men was just sitting adjacent to my love of them. And it’s true - I loved talking to them, kissing them, learning more about them. I loved sleeping with them, having power over them, them having power over me. I loved having a new crush to fantasise about, heartbreak to fawn over, men to ‘mistakenly’ drunk text.
But now I have none of that and I don’t feel empty or sad about it anymore. Now I finally relate to my friends who never downloaded The Apps, never felt the need to chase the next boyfriend or situationship. I now only want to go on nights out with the girls and it actually be just a girls night. Dating apps won’t ever fill the ‘attention void’ and I don’t want to be a slave to the attention-whore economy. I feel free now. I feel - indifferent.
