Can't tell a man how I feel, but I can tell you.
6 Men. 8 Dates. 12 Entries of The OnHINGEd Series.
12 is my lucky number, always has been. When I started this series, I had no idea where it would lead. I thought I’d be lucky to make it through two dates. As you all know by now, this series was really an excuse to light a fire under my ass to start dating. But, after meeting six men, going on eight dates, and writing twelve entries, I can honestly say my confidence has grown— not just as an online dater, but as a writer, a communicator, and a New Yorker (still in training).
I used to roll my eyes in sheer exasperation whenever people said, “You learn so much about yourself when you date.” I couldn't stand it. Learn what, exactly? My go-to cocktail? That skinny jeans are a crime? I could mock the cliché all I wanted, but the truth is, “people” are right. You do learn about yourself when you date.
Through my writings, OnHINGED has become an outlet for creative expression in ways I couldn’t have predicted. Yes, I love the silly goofiness of it all (that won’t ever change), but by reflecting on these dates, I’ve started to notice countless patterns in both my behavior and the men sitting across the table.
I sat down to write these entries, whether I was giddy from a great night or clenching my teeth, wondering if I’d ever get a text back. Smitten or enraged, I kept click-clacking away on my keyboard through coffee shops up and down Manhattan. Still, it was impossible to keep up in real time. Despite the delay between each date and each post, I strived to preserve the integrity of how I felt in the moment things unfolded. It sucked at times (I won’t lie), but it forced me to sit with each experience long enough to remember the details I’d overlooked. Whether it was a sweet gesture or a dry message that I initially brushed off.
These entries helped remedy my inability to articulate my feelings out loud—perhaps mirroring my difficulty communicating those same feelings to some of the men I dated, cough cough. It was while writing Entry 4.4, about a boy being insufferably lame, that I was struck by a cold, hard epiphany; right there at my own desk, cigarette in hand, à la Carrie Bradshaw.
There it is—I finally said her name.
Miss Carrie has been a huge influence on these entries, and while I hope I’ve done her proud, for this next chapter, I plan to channel some more of Samantha Jones’ sex-positivity, Miranda’s wisdom, and Charlotte’s high expectations.
Epiphany in my notes app—
I’ve realized that my problem isn’t with intimacy or “opening up”, it’s with wanting the other person to be vulnerable first, when I, B, don’t want to be. It’s the false expectation that someone else needs to profess their feelings and be emotionally open before I can do the same. When in reality, I need to let go of the chase and express my feelings when I feel them, not when someone else gives me permission to.
I think that’s why all my flings tend to fizzle out after three or four dates. I’ve had this warped perception that once feelings get involved, the fun and flirtation disappear. But in reality, it’s the opposite—those things can be amplified, and you can have both. For me, it seems, it’s also about fear of losing control. Something I struggle with and can admittedly chalk up to classic hyper-independent older sister syndrome. It’s just hard to trust a guy to take the wheel… to simply hand him over the keys and let him drive. I guess I just don’t have that much faith. But I should with the right guy, right?
I have this power trip that traps me in a cycle. I want to “win”—make them like me first, text me first, fall for me first—but I still want to maintain control. That’s an almost impossible ask. Is that why I’m constantly sending screenshots of texts with guys to my friends up the wazoo?? Why am I seeking everyone’s validation except my own? Why is my humor, instinct, and confidence enough for me in so many other areas of life, except when it comes to men? Oh, I’m on one now.
And why, dear God, would I avoid expressing interest, desire, or vulnerability when those are the very things real relationships are built on?
The thing is in friendship, I have no problem opening up about heavy stuff; it’s pretty easy to tell if we click or we don’t, it’s organic. Plus, it’s uncommon to approach another girl and say, “Hey, wanna be friends?” With guys, there’s that added fear of rejection, dun dun dun. Despite this difference, I’ve realized an important point:
you can’t compartmentalize relationships.
Whether they’re platonic, romantic, or work-related, all of them are influenced by our ability to communicate and behave towards people. I mean, fuck, I lived with Rufus for six months before she saw me cry.
I’m finally starting to accept that for me, emotional intimacy isn’t just about unloading your past, your childhood, your parents’ marital status, your complicated relationship with home. It’s just as intimate to tell someone you enjoy their company, you’re grateful for their time, and you want to see them more often. So why don’t you start there, B?
Gagged myself with that one.
Yeah… this Substack has taken a very introspective turn, but you can understand why this epiphany felt liberating in so many ways. My dad once told me that unhealthy relationships breed an inability to be self-aware, so at the very least, I’ve got a pretty healthy relationship with myself covered.
Now that the self-awareness and my tendencies have been analyzed to death, let’s turn back to the men of the Court of the OnHINGEd and reflect on what they’ve taught me.
I’ve compiled a one-word list below to sum up the defendants and give their final verdicts.
Warner: Riddle.
Still can’t figure him out—does he even exist? He was sexier in my head.
Verdict: Guilty of Ghosting in the 1st Degree (Preemptive) and Contempt of Court (Failure to Appear). You’re almost a lawyer, Warner, sound right?
Marshmallow: Uninspired
Perfectly kind and polite… might need help telling a squash from a marshmallow.
Verdict: Not Guilty.
Asperge: Curious
Went to high school with my ex-situationship; we’ll leave it at that.
Verdict: Not Guilty.
Petit Prince: Goofy
A silly and sweet short king who knows how to bring a girl flowers on a first date.
Verdict: Not Guilty.
Dimples: Hot
That is it. That’s all I’ve got.
Verdict: Guilty of Ghosting in the 2nd Degree (Cold-Turkey).
Prairie Boy: Charismatic
He could probably make friends with a wall, a true Hinge officiendao!
Verdict: Guilty of Ghosting in the 3rd Degree (Mutual), minimum sentence.
While I haven’t been on the dating scene for long and don’t have any ongoing relations with guys to show for it, that wasn’t necessarily my goal to begin with. The goal was to have fun and go on dates!!! And 2BDs, I had fun. I tried 10 new bars, three new clubs, one new restaurant, oh, and my couch got christened, ha.
Along the way, each of these men taught me something, either a quality I’m looking for or one I’ll avoid like the plague. Thanks to my graveyard of Hinge dates (pictured above), I’ve gained a clearer vision of what I want and how my lack of communication has sometimes gotten in the way of that.
Now, armed with all this field research, I can be even more specific as I get closer to figuring out what I truly want. What is it I want, you ask?
I just want a good F***.
Someone who is—
-FUNNY
-AMBITIOUS
-WORLDY
-KIND & KEEN
…a real good “FAWK”duhhhh.
Some compromises must be made, of course, you can’t have it all, most guys can only check off one or two on this list, but it’s fawk-ing good place to start.
There you have it: that’s a wrap on Season 1 of OnHINGEd.
What’s next for 2BD? Season 2, of course.
Summer is knocking—I’m young, hot, and single in New York City. I plan to be back on-HINGE by the end of the month with all past dates blocked and settings set to 25+, I’m craving a slightly more developed frontal lobe, you know?
In the meantime, we’re taking things off-HINGE. That’s right, I’m talking blind dates and setups.
And I might just have a blind date lined up for this Thursday…
Let Season 2 begin. Where will my first date of the season be?
Turns out, mystery man has chosen the exact same bar Marshmallow did, three months ago TO THE DAY, talk about full circle…I don’t believe in coincidences. With thousands of bars in NYC, I couldn’t make this up if I tried. Hopefully, he can tell a marshmallow from a squash. I know I can.
Oh, and his codename? That’s 2BD of course…
Stay bold :)
xx 2BD
We want double dates.
Summer in the city? Let’s see how hot it gets.