Insert sarcastic chuckle.
I was having a particularly lonely day and this is the app where single people go when they are lonely. It is hopeful with its yellow colors and cheerful bee allusions. It seduces you into believing this is where you will find your hive...and become a Queen.
Its yellow mirage is sneaky.
My favorite profiles go something like this:
"You can find me in the gym or on my boat. Love traveling, snowboarding, fishing, running, biking, and reading. I have my s**t together and you should too. No drama. Am very fit and healthy. If you do not have your sh#t together, swipe left."
Swiping left = move on, Linda
What exactly does "I have my sh#t together" mean? You own a house? A car? You're gainfully employed? You invest? You vote? Go to church? Have lots of friends? Have a great credit score? You wear chinos and dress appropriately at all times? You go to the gym daily? You floss daily? Have a money clip? Wear slippers around the house because you don't want to bring in dirt from the outside? You properly groom yourself?
Fill a sister in.
In this post-divorce/40ish dating world, the bar is high. It requires you to have hobbies, a rocking body, an above average IQ, a large bank account, a high credit score, an oversized house, an even temper, be eternally tan, nails always done, clothes always ironed, independent without the slightest need for a man, know how to fish, be ready to camp on a moment's notice, have time to invest in someone whose ego is supremely inflated, properly conduct yourself via text and Snapchat, be anxious to receive and send nude pictures, have little expectation for any kind of intentional dating, and be OK with "Netflix and chill"on a Friday night... AKA..."I'm not spending any money on getting to know you because I will not tolerate anything that requires me to put in any effort." It's a world of filters and fronts where narcissism runs rampant.
Their bar is high, but yours better not be.
Hi, my name is Rebekah and I'm a slightly bitter, single woman.
OK, maybe more than slightly. I might have crossed that line and arrived fully with everything but a toe on the other side. My pinky toe. The most insignificant part of my body is still hanging on, determined to gain super human strength to maneuver my body back to the yellow, hopeful side.
(On a side note, I must give a shout out to the men that I KNOW do not fit in this category. Keep fighting the good fight, fellas.)
I went to Trader Joe's yesterday and came home with two very inexpensive bottles of wine and a bouquet of lavender roses. If there was ever a day that called for an indulgent flowers purchase, it was yesterday. I was emotionally exhausted from legal stresses and needed a pick me up. I spent $16 on the whole lot and left feeling like an Independent Woman BADASS. It was money well spent.
Being hopeful as a single woman in her 40s is a dangerous business. I have found the best approach to maintain your Independent Woman Badass status is Trader Joe's, wine, and flowers. And erasing all yellow, hopeful apps that seduce you into believing you will find your hive and be a Queen.
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