I’m Not a Liability

“I came across your IG and it seems like you just date for stories for your blog?” read a comment from one of my Hinge matches last year.

It had a hostile and presumptuous tone that frustrated me. He said he didn’t want to “be another random episode” and ended the message with a smug “good luck out there.”

It’s a common misconception about me—the idea that I’m on a constant mission to find content. The misinterpretation usually comes from men who don’t actually know me, but it’s upsetting nonetheless. It’s happened more than once—a guy on an app accusing me of being there for the wrong reasons.

After they do some internet research and see what I write about, they assume I’ve only matched with them in the interest of sourcing dating content. Someone else wrote, “Feels like Hinge is just endless relationship essay material for you.” No; life is endless material for me.

Anyone who regularly reads my essays, or knows me personally, is well aware that the only thing I’ve wanted more than a successful creative career is a healthy long-term romantic relationship. To that end, no part of me has ever been interested in swiping on dating apps for kicks, or for the purpose of developing a blog post.

When you’re a breathing human being there’s an endless stream of topics, thoughts, interests, opinions, and ideas to expound on. I’ve written about something as mundane as a candle. Furthermore, having a deeply introspective mind means that I’m my own greatest subject and muse. As a creative person with depression and anxiety, I have plenty of fodder to pull from. In other words: I do not need a man for content. 

The idea that I’m on a relationship-seeking app for the purpose of finding material to write about couldn’t be more untrue. And having been alive for what feels like a bajillion years at this point (I’m 31), I also have a ton of life experiences to reflect on and write about.

To be clear, I admit that the most rousing kind of posts for me to write — and for readers to read — are on the topic of my dating escapades (sex sells!). The fact that dating apps sometimes facilitate those stories is purely coincidental.

BUT…

On the flip side, men who date me have to understand that being written about comes with the territory. When I do choose to write about my love life, I get annoyed when someone I’m dating gets nervous about what I might say. Part of why things ended with Carter earlier this year was because he asked me not to write about him anymore.

I couldn’t commit to that. The question offended me, to be honest. He was a writer too; it was the first thing that bonded us. I expected him to understand the value of creative freedom and expression. If I’d agreed not to write about us, I would’ve felt like I was being silenced.

Some men look at my writing as a liability, or a hazard from which they have to steer clear. It’s bullshit. And, as one of my exes pointed out, if a man is good to me there’s nothing for him to worry about. My writings are like literary albums, there for us to look back on and reminisce as we turn the pages of our lives. 

And who would want to forget dating me? 😉