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There are three things that make me bat-shit crazy: empty ice cube trays in the freezer, hormonal birth control, and dating someone while we’re both maintaining online dating profiles. 

There are great things about online dating. You can find out all kinds of things about someone without ever having to say a word to them: do they like cats, do they eat meat, do they sleep in the nude…but there are terrible things about it, too. For me, the worst thing about online dating is that initial period of seeing someone you think you might like, when you’re still getting to know each other and not officially “together”, and seeing them active on the dating site where you met.

This is what’s happening with Great Date Guy. He’s not my boyfriend. We haven’t even been on a third date (though not for lack of trying). It is not my right to be upset about him keeping his options open. The problem is, whether he’s truly looking for something better or just having fun on a social site, knowing he’s on there playing voyeur makes me feel “not good enough”. And then I feel pressured to play voyeur myself, just in case I’m prematurely putting all my eggs in one basket. And I half-ass it because I’m already interested in someone. Which is not fair to the men who message me thinking they’re getting a fair shake at dating me.

I am sure this reaction stems directly from my evil ex boyfriend experience. When he and I were just starting to get serious, we were both still on the dating site where we met. I changed my status to “seeing someone”; he never did. Every night we were apart I would comb through his profile looking for any new material that meant he was looking for someone else. (I should mention he is, always was, and always will be a serial cheater.) Every time he changed the “I’m looking for” section I felt like he was throwing my flaws in my face. It was something that bothered me until the day he dumped me, because I knew that no matter how serious we got, he was putting himself out there as a single man. 

I think this is what they call “baggage”.

With all that in mind I did something extreme: I deleted my online dating profiles – all three of them. Just like how I quit smoking, I cold turkeyed almost six years of editing and question answering and photo scrutiny in one click of a button. 

Part of me thinks it’s a shame, since I was finally getting really good at the “I don’t think we’re a strong match, but I wish you the best of luck” rejection letter. But the other part of me, the part of me that is not a crazy stalker person, thinks it’s for the best. No more invitations from experimental couples. No more explaining that disliking cats is, in fact, a deal-breaker. And no more late night stalking the men I date, wondering if I’m the only woman they’re seeing, and if I’m the one they like best. 

It is still possible GDGuy is seeing someone else, but as they say, ignorance is bliss.