I swipe. I swipe a lot. I swipe incessantly. I swipe so much that I hate myself for it but I can’t stop myself from it.
The app, the people, the desires, needs, wants; the simplicity of it all makes it so accessible to construct a fantastical fictionalised reality for me.
People become objects. I have an addiction. If I like an object, I need that object.
Left, left, left, right.
It’s a match! My heart skips a beat. My hopes spring eternal. I make a mistake. I get too ahead of myself.
I am 22. I want something but I don’t know what that something is. I want to feel something. I want to fill a void but fill it with what? Love or lust or neither?
Left, left, left, right.
We start talking. I don’t know them but I feel giddy, I feel whole. I feel wanted; I feel happy.
I become a version of myself I don’t recognise. I become needy. I become sad.
Their attention consumes me, it keeps me going but then it fizzles. I self-sabotage.
I am passionate, smart, crafty, quirky, a little unhinged in a good way but I fail to see these qualities in myself. I become envious of the one thing others have. Attachment.
Left, left, left, oh, a superlike!
I am a commodity too I realise. I could advocate for anything but myself. My desire for attachment was accompanied by shame, anxiety, emptiness.
I was desperate to know what it felt like to be wanted. I was desperate for intimacy but intimacy came with rules. They say “I only want something casual”.
I respect the forwardness, the honesty, the bluntness but it stings. I muster the courage to accept their want. I convince myself that if I accepted the want, it would be a stepping stone to fulfilling my want.
‘This user has unmatched you’
I grieve the loss of someone that I only knew two-dimensionally. My fantasy shatters. I am back to square one. I am right where you left me.
Except, you don’t know that; you move on and obtain your ‘something casual’. I overthink too much. This is so cliché of me. I can’t pin down why I’m so bothered.
Left, left, left, right. Here we go again…
I objectify and get objectified. I am a feminist but this experience isn’t liberating. I create this façade of wanting to fulfil what they wanted while convincing myself I was acting like a progressive feminist.
I am what I like to call ‘a self-destructive masochist’.
Left, left, left, *delete account*
I need to build a relationship with myself. I will not settle for crumbs. I deserve the whole cake. I need to stop seeking. I think it’ll be worth it.
Written by Shabnam Sidhu