So I
admit, I dabbled lightly into the world of online dating; it was
about three months or so that I initiated a free account. I think it
was the day after I had got home after one of my hospitalizations
that I created it – I was home feeling bored and lonely, aside from
being sick from my KTS. It was as though I was living life in a
fishbowl – I was watching everyone outside going about their lives,
while I remained stranded in my own little habitat. Friends of mine
were going on dates, and it made me jealous. The problem with dating
for me, however, is how little of energy I often have. Usually, a
school day is enough to wipe me out – my body has a very hard time
juggling my academic and personal life as it is, and that's with just
friends. Yet, there is a part of me that yearns to be in a
relationship – even though I may not be ready for it emotionally.
Still, the day I created my account, I was bursting with optimism.
“So,
why not just join a site and see what happens? See who comes to me,
and maybe if we form a relationship based on conversations, see where
it goes from there? What's the worst that could happen?”
Not
long after I created my account I decided to mention my
Klippel-Trenaunay Syndrome; it impacts my daily life, and is a vital
part of who I am. It is not me, but it is surely a part of me. I did
not include any pictures of my leg, but figured they could Google the
condition and get an idea of it. I did, however, explain how it
impacted me medically and on an everyday basis. That didn't stop the
requests from rolling in, much to my delight. It felt good to be
wanted, even if it was from 800 weirdos scattered across the Boston
area (not to say all are weirdos, I did meet some very nice people!).
Among the many, I found a few who I seemingly clicked with. The
conversation would transfer from the dating site to my phone, and it
felt good to be somewhat in the game, even if I was still very much
so a pathetic rookie. Eventually, as the conversations grew more
detailed about our personal lives, I would send guys a picture of me
and my leg exposed. Since then, each one had lost interest. I told
them that it's okay because I am confident in myself and understand
that not everyone is equipped to deal with such a thing. Inside,
however, it does hurt. I mean, I'd be lying if I said it didn't. Just
yesterday, a guy I had been talking to for a while that I really
liked finally saw a picture of my leg. Prior to this, we were texting
often, and had gotten to known a fair amount about each other.
Yesterday, he mentioned something about me in a bikini. Well, I said
back, I may not look as sexy in a bikini as you may be thinking, you
did read my profile right? He said yes, and then said “so what, you
have a couple of scars or something?” Um yeah, buddy, let's call
them that why don't we. I then proceed to send him the picture –
and about an hour later, he tells me I still look beautiful. I thank
him, but I know that this is the end, and it was. The pessimism soaks
in, but I try to shove it aside and get on with my schoolwork. Even though I consider myself a confident person KTS wise, it just reminded me that I am still vulnerable, too. It hurts when people reject you - especially over something that has already caused you such a tremendous amount of pain in life thus far.
Any of
you Kter's have experience with online dating? Have you had better
luck than me? - A
