"To be attracted by a person's way of thinking is an entirely different attraction." ~ Unknown
I've been divorced for ten years and thought it would be pretty easy to find "The One" if I were freed from the attachments of the wrong person. To my surprise, it was more difficult than I thought. I found many, but not "the one".
I've been to Match, Bumble, Plenty of Fish and Blind Dates and even dated a longtime friend to find myself single in my fiftieth year on this planet. It took me a long time to find out what I did, what attracted me.
I have been in therapy for years, have expressed my thoughts and recognized patterns that do not serve me. After I got married, I had a two-year relationship with a man who cheated on me. I had a four-year relationship with a man who stole a quarter of a million dollars from me, and my fifteen-year marriage was not a friendship.
There was a common denominator with all three partners: I put a lot of energy into my appearance in order to connect with them. In other words, I was not an innocent party in these crimes of the heart. I was charged when a man was really turned on by me. I was addicted to someone who wanted me. I had to be wanted.
These men were overly stimulated visually and easily physically distracted. They all fixated on my physical and tolerated my mental. I never had a friendship with any of these guys. I had pleasure ship.
You questioned my deep, soulful feelings. They turned a cheek to my equanimity attitude. They made a face to my immense empathy. They shrugged at my sympathy for others.
After the end of my last relationship, I took an oath to myself. I would be celibate and single until I turned fifty. I had held onto a really nice bottle of champagne and reserved it for a special occasion. I went to the fridge with a felt-tip pen and wrote, "Drink October 2021".
One troubled Monday evening I decided to write down who I was and what I was looking for. I started writing with the attitude, “If I went to a dating site. . . I would write something like that. "
As I was writing, reading, and editing, I began to really like what I was reading. I thought, "Damn it – I'm a good writer!"
I wrote in a charming, humble way about the good, the bad, and the ugly. I have been essentially honest about my shortcomings and my efforts. I didn't leave anything out because I had nothing to lose.
It became a cathartic experience for me. I rewrote it and read it again until I said to myself, "Damn it – I'm a really good person!" I got to a place where I wasn't embarrassed to share the raw truth, but on the other end I wasn't thinking, "I don't give a fuck what you think". I was in a good place.
I was proud of myself and wanted to share my story. I felt very good at being able to write my love life and read it like it was a story drawn from the heart. It made me smile.
That Monday evening I decided to do an experiment. I received a one-month membership to Match.com and paid extra so that only people I “liked” can see my profile. I created my profile and called myself AbbieNormal, a reference to the funny Mel Brooks film Young Frankenstein.
I answered all questions about myself and even filled in the random topics. Match prompts help people get to know you. I typed up the long resume I'd created and when it came time to upload a profile photo I decided against it. This was the experiment.
The experiment was to find out if a man cares about my mind before seeing my body. I was a single woman looking for a single man with a profile, a novel to read and no photos.
Which guy would read instead of see? Which guy would trust without being shown? Which guy would take the depth without shallow bait? Who would buy the cow without seeing that it was a cow?
There is no doubt my last boys would not answer. My ex-husband would think I didn't post a photo because I was fat. The friend who took my money would think I was a woman trying to cheat on her husband.
I've looked through profiles of over a hundred men and selected about twenty to display my profile, or as Match calls it, "liked" them. I had very little confidence that any man would message me. It was an experiment for which I had already drawn the conclusion.
My article began as follows: "I've never been single for more than a moment, and I think that's partly because men are visual creatures. I play with no photos. I would prefer you to read about me and decide if you'd like to go on as seeing me and fitting my words into the pretty little package that I am, emphasis on pretty, not on ego 🙂 ”
I went to bed feeling at peace with myself because I allowed people to read about the real me and confident that this experiment would not interfere with my champagne oath. I woke up the next morning, Tuesday, to find three men had written to me. I was shocked!
Everyone mentioned how refreshing it was to read such an authentic profile. A man said a photo would be nice but no print, which I thought was cute. Another mentioned that he was also a big young Frankenstein fan. He got points for recognizing the reference.
I wanted to write them back, but it seems that Match doesn't allow you to message people unless you've posted at least one photo, which is silly because I've already given them money. The site must be owned by men. I was hesitant to post a photo so I waited another day.
Wednesday morning one of the three men wrote me another message asking me to connect. I felt the need to respond so that my intentions wouldn't work like a trick. I posted a photo and replied to the three men who said the same thing to each of them: "Thank you for taking the time to read my profile."
On Wednesday after posting my photo, I received messages from the remaining twenty men I “liked”. Before it became a full time job to keep an eye on her, I paid my attention to the first three guys. You were my priority.
Guy 1 – faded out after a few texts: /
Guy 2 – asked for more photos: [
Guy 3 – we wrote, spoke and met 🙂
I gave some time to a handful of guys from the second round who sent me a message after the photo appeared. One didn't understand how bitter I was to lose a quarter of a million dollars. Another commented that I should post more photos because I am so beautiful. And most of them wanted to meet immediately.
I also looked through all the profiles that Match sends daily while their algorithms are doing their matchmaking. Though I have to say, they always sent me my ex-husband's profile as a "Super Match" and he is nowhere near that.
The experiment was as good as over. I had a photo and now I was acting like I was dating or something. I had to focus on my champagne oath and just stop.
My experiment surprised me.
I have gained a new appreciation for the male species / humanity. Who knows what the three boys' intentions were when they decided to text me based on just my words and no photo? I would like to believe that they were really interested in what they read and wanted to ride with the belief that there would be some physical attraction. This is my final answer.
The experiment taught me a lesson.
I was hypocritical as I looked at each man's photos to find out who would have access to my profile. As painful as it is to say that I looked at the physical characteristics of men, my attraction always came from what they wrote. I know without a doubt that if a man "liked" me with no photo and his words moved me, you'd better believe I'd report him back.
The experiment gave me a new perspective.
As I said before, I wasn't innocent of how men looked at me or what kind of man I ended up with. I wanted someone to see me for who I really am, but my shell was sparkling and shiny while my center was polished and deep.
I realized that I had longed for someone to want the polished and profound, to desire and turn on and then happily satisfied with the sparkling and shiny.
Throughout my dating life, men wanted me for the sparkling and shiny that was then tolerated, challenged, and ridiculed. The experiment allowed me to feel who I really am for a brief moment, and it was an incredible feeling.
I will forever remember this experiment when I learned who I really am in relation to a partner. I had blamed the men, or the quality of the people, or my poor judge of character, and it wasn't any of those things. I had to learn who I am in order to understand who I wanted.
I bet you're wondering what happened to Guy 3, right? I'm still with him. As for the champagne oath – that I would be celibate and single by the age of fifty – let's just say when I told Guy 3 about my oath he said, "This is not going to happen, you better just drink it."
About Lisa Yee
Lisa Yee owns a wellness studio in San Diego, California, where she helps customers take steps to get healthier and happier. She is the mother of three teenagers who keep surprising and challenging her. You can see her running at sunrise or walking her dog at sunset or on lisafit.com.
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