Stop Telling Me To Be Less Picky

“You’re beautiful, Frannie, so you must be doing something wrong.” My friend’s words hung there, stinging, as it dawned on me that he thought he’d just paid me a compliment.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” I said before changing the subject.

I get it, you think you’re helping. I get it, it’s because you care.

Recently I realized that if my personal bio were a man’s, rather than a woman’s, I’d be seen as a catch; anyone I dated would be congratulated for snagging me. But instead, I’m viewed with some level of pity, coupled with an incessant need to try to “fix” me because I’m a woman in her thirties who isn’t yet married. There’s an assumption I’m doing something wrong, or that there’s something wrong with me. Does she have commitment issues? Is she a nagging bitch? Does she have a third breast? (Wait, would that be a positive?) The point is, at my age, a man is still given a long runway and assumed to have just not yet made his choice, whereas a woman is viewed as broken, outcast, or — horror of all horrors — physically undesirable. And so comes the advice from clickbait internet lists and well-intentioned married friends who think they’ve solved the matrix. And to you married folk and magazine writers, you did it, you solved your own matrix. However, mine looks entirely different. It’s mine, not yours.

So here’s my advice to each of you. Stop it. Seriously, stop. Stop telling me — and all women — to be less picky, to be more open-minded, and that we need to sacrifice a part of ourselves for love. Stop assuming you know what we need at all. Stop trying to project your ideal onto us. Stop assuming we are only complete with another person. Stop assuming that we are single because we’ve messed up, or because we can’t find a date. And if you haven’t dated online in the age of tinder/bumble/hinge/grindr/whatever else: Then especially, and seriously, just be quiet. You have absolutely no idea how the world has changed since your casanova days. The thing is, society seems to think they deserve to ride shotgun to a woman’s dating/sex life. Well, guess what? I just kicked you out of the car

The Internet has never been a welcoming place for women, and the online dating scene is a harsh magnifier of an already menacing environment. I chat with men I know and they say it can be rough for them, too. But their version of rough is that some women don’t respond to their messages after matching. (For the uninitiated, “matching” means a mutual opt-in, followed by the ability to message one another on a dating platform). Men sometimes don’t respond to me, either. But men also sometimes call me a whore if I don’t write back. They abruptly sexually proposition me. They tell me they’d rape me. They send me unsolicited photographs of their penis. My experience is far from unique and, sadly, probably far from the most extreme. Why did I match them in the first place, you ask? Am I picking these guys on purpose, is it yet another thing that I’m doing “wrong,” and you think you can help me fix my problematic swiping? Let me ask you a question: Do you think their bios say, “Hey, I’m Bob. New to Denver. I love skiing, expressing my perceived entitlement to sex, and appreciate a good IPA”?

Because they don’t.

These guys are everywhere. You think you don’t know them? You do. They just don’t fly their “women owe me sex” flag in front of you. Maybe because you’re also a man. Or because you’re their sister. Dating sites perpetuate a culture where men see other men having success with women, believe themselves to also deserve and be owed female adoration, and when they don’t receive it, they end up lashing out at women in the worst ways. The perceived anonymity that comes with hiding behind a screen also allows someone to lower their inhibitions and say truly reprehensible things under the guise of flirting; there are social media sites that aggregate such examples. And it’s not because everyone on these apps is expected to be there just for sex. In fact, dating apps are practically the only way to meet potential mates in this day and age, as so few people approach one another in-person. Also, even if they were just for sex? I still don’t deserve to be called a whore. Maybe you’re thinking, “not all men.” Well of course not all men. But should it be any men?

Stop telling me to be less picky. I’ve dated a lot of guys for the sole reason that they seemed nice, feeling like I should like them. I’ve tried to hold on and wait for “it” to click, but feigned affection is a fast crumbling endeavor. I’ve attempted to go out for drinks with multiple guys in a single week, trying to be open minded. But in this fast-swipe, quick-chat, slow-to-commit world, in which dates are perceived to be in limitless supply and people seem to be expendable, you really just become progressively exhausted. And it is, it’s exhausting. It’s exhausting to continually put yourself out there for critique and acceptance. To lie in wait, ready to expose the most intimate and tender parts of yourself, the parts you understand are a more complicated part of your personal tapestry. You have to be optimistic that the next person is The Person, otherwise no sane being could survive.

I’m not carrying around a laminated checklist that outlines that a man must be 6’4”, brunette, able to run a sub-five-minute mile, and liberal (though, hey, show me this guy, please). This isn’t me picking out a sandwich for lunch; it’s me picking out a mate with whom I want to spend my life and raise children. I don’t have a laundry list of idiosyncratic quirks that one must embody, but I do expect someone with whom I share common values and beliefs, someone with whom I can laugh and communicate effectively, and someone to whom I am attracted. Oh yeah, and someone who doesn’t think dick pics are a good pick-up line. Is that really so unreasonable?

If you’re married, it’s safe to assume you were in charge when you chose your mate, so why should I be denied that privilege? Is it because my classmates are now posting pictures of second kids on facebook while I spend Saturday mornings in yoga classes or running up a mountain with friends? I haven’t found the right person for me yet, but that doesn’t mean my life isn’t rich and full and lovely.

I’ve had some incredible highs, and I’ve had moments when I was so heartbroken that I didn’t even recognize myself. My life has been filled with challenges and backtracks, victories and bear hugs. I am an independent adult human. Many men in their 30’s purport, in theory, to want an independent woman. But if you’re actually a single woman living the hell out of your life, people will tell you you’re intimidating and you’d better tone it down. One friend told me he assumed I didn’t want to get married because I’m so independent. So which is it? Should I idle around with a cocktail at the bar, waiting for a mate, letting life happen to me? Or should I get out there and explore and make mistakes and figure myself out every single day? I want the latter and a partner who does the same. If a man isn’t doing that or if my doing that intimidates him, then we aren’t a match. And that’s fine. But don’t draw judgment because a woman in her thirties isn’t willing to throw her life out the window simply because a man has arrived. Marriage isn’t a box I’m trying to check simply because I have a new pen I want to use, it’s a box I want to check with someone whom I truly resonate. Let’s make a life together that honors what we both had separately and celebrates what we will become together. Isn’t that what a relationship should be? A safe space to grow, not a space you’re in simply because society dictates that your last birthday necessitates it.

I’m single because, while I am theoretically ready to settle down; I’m not ready to settle on someone who isn’t going to love me as a person with a history and battle scars that are all my own. I hope we should all be so lucky.