I have a complicated relationship with my orbiters. Their distinguishing feature is that they are men with whom I have been emotionally entangled, who watch my stories but who do not otherwise have any contact with me by their choice. They could DM or text me — I don’t block men I don’t care for — but they do not. I do not consider them friends. Maybe fans, or a little less, because placing them in the same category as my darling fans would be insulting to the latter. Either way, they are a special class of men because I pay much attention to them.
I maintain a level of detachment from them for the sake of my well-being but, nonetheless, am drawn to them like a moth to fire. I am endlessly fascinated by their behaviour as an object of study; I stay transfixed because they are like a puzzle whose pieces are constantly transmogrifying.
As we have clearly established, I love to read too much into human behaviour — it’s an occupational hazard. And I think orbiting behaviour is particularly revealing of desire due to its nature.
Orbiting in the form of story-watching behaviour is a two-way street, at least with insane girls like me. Again, men (and women) are deliberate in their actions. My friends say “maybe he’s just watching your stories because you pop up on his feed (because you post insane shit all the time)”, but are people really that simple? An orbiter does not accidentally watch your stories. They are orbiters because there are fixed patterns to their behaviour; they are there again and again like permanent fixtures. And given how confrontational I am, I know they know that I know they’re watching my stories. It’s like standing with your back to another person in a room of mirrors. You look up at yourself, and then at them, realising that they’re watching you too, even though both of you do not ever move.
This creates a relationship that is simultaneously parasocial and symbiotic. As much as I enjoy their presence, I think they, too, get a high from following my social media — because I feed them in return.
So let me feed you with this post.
Here’s the tall tale I spin in my head because I’m a crazy girl and I can think whatever I want (and I own it 100%!). You’re still here because you realise you messed up your only chance with me. Maybe it’s because you were in a bad place or not emotionally ready; you had not yet found yourself. That’s okay; it doesn’t matter anymore. Either way, you regret that you didn’t seize the chance when you had it.
And you don’t know what to do now, so you linger.
I am not sure what to say in response. You wanted something from me, and you took it, didn’t you? I gave you what you wanted, because I loved you, because I wanted you to be happy, even if the time we had together was so infinitesimal. But no matter what I did, I wasn’t enough for you then, and you made your decision then, split-second or not, calculated or not.
Isn’t this what you wanted?
I could block you but I won’t. Why? Because that would be giving you the easy way out. I’ll be frank: I don’t think you deserve that from me. And I love watching you suffer. Every single time you turn around for a second, third, fourth, fifth look, every single time you come back to me unprompted. The more you hurt me in the past, the more I’ll enjoy it.
Well, or so I thought. Huh? Like I said, I used to love playing games with silly cute boys. But in retrospect, I notice that there would inevitably come a tipping point where my objective ceased to be communicating my feelings for them in the hopes that they would reciprocate. All I wanted was to crush them.
I don’t know who or what to or why I was trying to prove myself, but here’s the thing — I always won, and crush them I did. One of the boys I was intent on breaking (because I felt that he had wronged me) eventually conceded through an apology. But when I saw his text, contrary to my glorious expectations, I didn’t feel a sense of victory. It was more like… ah, we’ve been through so much, haven’t we?
But… what was all of this for?
There was a brief period when I actively attempted to ignore my darling orbiters because I felt they were a waste of my time and emotional bandwidth. (Damn energy vampires.) However, I have since realised (perhaps in a post-hoc justification kind of way) that they were pivotal to my emotional growth.
Take Mr Temasek, for example (if you’re here, hi!!! Did it work out with your ex? Hahahahahaha). One encounter with him stands out; I think it will be all I remember of him in time.
We were seated, facing each other; he asked me what my biggest insecurity was (at that point).
And I was honest with him because I trusted him then: I told him, point blank, that I feared men only saw me for my (hot N sexy) body, even though I was so willing to love them.
For at least a second, I thought I recognized empathy in his pretty eyes — a moment of vulnerability I believed was worth revealing myself for.
And then he proceeded to precisely exploit that insecurity against me, haha.
Well (shrugs). We live and we learn. I was out of commission for a good two months or so thanks to his selfishness (and my weaknesses then; it takes two hands to clap). But he taught me an important emotional lesson, which later helped me find the one. Everything happens for a reason.
This is all much ado about nothing. Like OK sis, what is your point?
So here it is in the spirit of full disclosure. I like to pretend that I’m some harbinger of feminine rage, but surprise — despite everything, insanely, I want you to be happy. In the end, we’re all interconnected. Even if our paths will never cross again (I sure hope they don’t), they did at one point. I did love you.
I can be as delulu as I want, but in the end, I will never know why you’re still here. And I don’t intend to find out; that’s what keeps you endlessly fascinating. We always want the things we cannot have.
I liked to credit the men like the two examples above for being my muses. But I’ve been giving credit to the wrong people. I am like this today, and I could write all of this now, because I opted to learn from my mistakes instead of letting them break my spirit. I grew despite you, but also because of you. I would not be where I am today without you — for better or for worse.
And somehow, I choose better — without you.
You’ve served your purpose in my life. I hope I’ve served mine. So let’s part ways now, for your sake.
Listen to this — it’s the sound of how much I would’ve loved you.
And then let go.
But hey, if you do choose to stay, then watch, watch, watch me.
I wrote before that love is a little like falling asleep. To quote John Green: I fell in love like you would fall asleep: slowly and then all at once. Maybe somewhat faster for me because, after all, I am a hyperoptimiser: I knew he was the one by the end of our first date.
Why did I meet him? He likes jazz too. He’s the only one who genuinely wanted to go to a jazz show with me, not for me (observe how we came full circle). I made time for him because I sincerely wanted to connect with someone with the same interest. Wouldn’t it be fun, even if we didn’t work out? And I was right. He did not need to be anything he was not, nor did I.
Why did he “win”? There are a few things, but one turning point was when he held my hand. Huh, that’s it? Yeah. Because hand-holding is an emotionally loaded gesture. Before him, I had never held hands with any of the others outside of a sexual context. Men will tongue-wrestle you, hook their arm around your hips as you walk, or put their hand on your thigh (thinking they’re slick), blagh, but they will not hold your hand unless they’re ready. That’s love in its most intimate form, or so I believe. When he interlaced his fingers with mine, he was opening his heart to me: he was giving himself to me.
And so I did the same because I wanted to, for him.
Another one for kicks: some of my prior dates ended with the men saying I was enigmatic (??) or they were unsure about me (or gave me a hard no, which was superior, to be honest). They always had this distant look in the end… as if they were struggling to imagine how I fit into their future.
With him, though? At one point, I said, “if you’re so good to me, what if I beg you to see me again?”
He replied, without hesitation: “please do just that; I’d love it if you did.”
How did I know? When I fell asleep in his arms, the ocean was quiet: I did not dream. And yes, he felt like home. (The morning after, I wrote geometry.)
So yeah, nappeun yeoja, but this is it, LOL.
Babygirl’s retiring from the game; she’s had her run and received her prize.
yeah this was meant to be a semi-serious post until i got on pinterest
My Report Card, for Evaluation’s Sake
Dating period, where my first date with him marks the end: 1 to 18/7/24; 2 weeks, 4 days (Jazz in July isn’t even over, and we’re going again!)
Total # men encountered on Hinge: Lost count. LOL. Not important. I did review at least 200 men on Hinge; the night I cleared a backlog of 100+, I downed 18 shots and crawled on the road at some point I can’t recall. (On the bright side, I converted him the same night. And he took care of my bruises after. They’re almost gone!)
Total # men matched: 54
Total # converted to Telegram: 17 (i.e. 30% of matched)
Total # dates (“full conversions”) including with him: 7 — 4 met once, 1 met twice, and then him (i.e. 30% fully converted from Tele). Lucky seven, as he jokes. Lucky me. Can’t wait for the seventh time I see him. (Notice the # of this post in this series? And subtract 18 from today’s date. I love patterns.)
Kill rate (% of conversions I wanted to sleep with vs actually slept with): 100%, haha. A slut to the close-minded, an undefeated hunter to the players, a divine babygirl to him.
Total # of men (still) orbiting me: One too many. For their sake, I hope it eventually becomes 0 — either they upgrade to friends or move on with their lives.
We might not work out in the end — life has no guarantees — but I’m committed to making it work. (I mean, if it doesn’t, I’ll just rinse and repeat the cycle. I’ve established quite clearly that it’s effective for me.)
Even if it doesn’t, I know we’ll both grow. I just hope we can make it together.
That’s my promise to him.
(And no, don’t ask me about him. I will not share. I have overshared enough. He’s mine, as I affirmed even before we met. Haha!)
I was looking for love. In the process, I found it in myself. When that happened, he manifested into being for me, as if from a dream.
There might be “better” out there. But what does that mean anyway? To “hyperoptimise”, as was my goal from the beginning, is to find the best solution available given a fixed set of parameters.
We are not looking for perfection; it is unattainable. He isn’t perfect, and neither am I.
But he’s good enough for me as he is, and I’m good enough for him as I am.
And isn’t that what matters in the end?
me listening to him yap. (more like the other way around)
Finally, to all my dear readers: thank you for being here with me throughout. It really has been magical.
Meeting new people was the best thing that happened to me this year. There’s so much out there, so much to learn, so much to do. There are so many others like myself with their own stories, waiting to be uncovered — waiting to be loved.
Again and again — I hope you find the love you deserve. Be brave! Life will work out for you — it’s only a matter of time.
OK clowns we are back with another instalment hot on the heels of #3 (knowing thyself). Now that you know who you are and what you want, it is time to get out there and DESTROY your opponents.
me sifting through my knowledge stack
First, we will hyperoptimise our profiles on dating apps. Then, we will hyperoptimise the “pruning process”, that is, deciding who converts from dating app match -> texting. More in guide #5 later.
What’s in a (Good) Profile?
I only used Hinge, so we’re going to run with that. I didn’t use Tinder because hearsay it’s primarily a hookup app (not that I wouldn’t thrive there), avoided Coffee Meets Bagel because I was afraid people there were too wholesome, and that’s right — no Bumble for me because I don’t chase, I attract! (I’m cackling lol)
Dating apps are exceptionally unforgiving environments; one swipe to the left, and you’re out for good. You only have one chance to impress, which will be determined by your profile.
So some tips based on my observations:
Every photo and every prompt response must illustrate a quirk that distinguishes you as a person from others. Hinge allows for 6 pictures/videos and 3 text prompts and lets you play around with voice recordings and polls, among other things. There’s so much room for experimentation! I have nothing to complain about on their end. But they can only do so much — more important is how you utilise this potential handed to you.
The point of a profile is to communicate information about you as a distinct individual. Hence, you want to use every weapon at your disposal to convince others that you are ✨ unique and special ✨.
Disclaimer: I accept that I have some pretty privilege (there’s no way around this; either I admit that I have it and I am perceived as self-absorbed, or I pretend that I don’t have it and I am perceived as fake). This pretty privilege shapes the way I evaluate and swipe. But if you look put together and you’re authentic, you’re already ahead of the game. Social perception is an incredibly powerful gift — humans make accurate impressions of others within 5 seconds about how extroverted, intelligent, and even responsible they are. Even on a dating app, if you look closely enough, you can quickly tell who’s secure and authentic — and who’s not. We run with what we have.
Some general recommendations across genders
In #3 I joked about “boring and cliche” people, but it is actually extremely difficult to be one. As long as you have any hobby — a niche interest you do for its own sake — you are no longer boring because you now have experiences that differentiate you from others. To really be boring, you must (1) not do anything remotely interesting at all, or you (2) cannot communicate your experiences in a way that allows you to connect with others.
But some hobbies are less niche than others. Like watching K-drama. Not that it’s not a valid hobby, but stating it does nothing to distinguish you from everyone else.
One thing that is NOT a hobby, by the way, is sleeping. Because LITERALLY everyone sleeps. For the love of god, DO NOT spend a precious prompt indicating that you like to sleep or cuddle. EVERYONE likes to sleep or cuddle. You’re better off saying you love to have sex, because at least you’d be admired as someone who has the guts to admit it.
See below for an example sent by a friend. I would be worried about being flamed, but I realise that this poll is so generic that the person probably couldn’t even identify it as theirs with confidence… and that’s the whole point.
my choice is no date.
Dog and cat pictures are OK (if you’re hot) (I’m joking), but they’re such an overexploited offering that they won’t help you stand out unless the pet is a defining feature of your identity (e.g., you are a cat dad).
This logic extends to everything, actually. If you don’t have some witty thing or niche hobby to include, go big or go home with some wild experience instead. You like films? Share that you binge-watched 8 films in a row and fainted. You like travelling? Share that you got ROBBED in Europe or lost your passport and was detained at the airport. Trump supporter? Please post a picture of you wearing a MAGA cap so I can swipe left and report you too.
Funny incidents. Recommended. One of my friends uploaded a voice recording of him (disguised as a news report) sardonically detailing how he got hit by a car and flung along the road. Now that’s a standout feature. I would swipe right for that alone.
Sports is good in general.
Y’all have no idea how many men I swiped for their pictures alone. Yes. I have no shame. I LOVE rugby boys; they look so intense when they’re ballin’ (screams unhingedly). I LOVE dragon boaters pumping it in the water. I LOVE men who golf — an uncountable number of men received requests from me to hit me with their sticks. Hell, you could post a funny picture of you struggling on a Pilates reformer machine, and I would laugh and swipe right. That’s the whole point — to entertain and to impress.
The same goes for girls. I am starting to notice a trend where I find that men are surprisingly willing to simp over strong and fit girls. It’s just embedded in our DNA to want fit people.
Oh, gym pictures and mirror selfies are mid, by the way. Because virtually everyone gyms nowadays. It’s about the sport, because it demonstrates a hobby.
Travel pictures/stories. OK if you’re doing something funny/exciting (shows you have personality and grit) or it’s an outlandish story. I do not care if your favourite travel destination is Japan. Scenic backdrops are OK if you have a lovely smile to accompany them, but use them in moderation.
Education. Intelligence reigns supreme in mating decisions, regardless of gender. This should already be covered by your demographic information. Still, if you really don’t have any other pictures to put, a picture of you in a graduation gown with your institution as a backdrop is an OK choice. Like, guy #5 had a pic of him at his graduation ceremony from a world top 5 uni (I cannot elaborate more in case I am sued) and yeah. He even took the time to kindly reiterate to me that he had lived overseas. Like we couldn’t tell, sir.
Voice prompts. The best voice recording is a funny one (e.g. bad singing or something subversive). There are no exceptions to this. You playing a musical instrument is a close second. And DO NOT WHISPER TO ME SULTRILY THAT YOU LIKE TO SLEEP OR THAT I AM A GOOD GIRL!!!!!!
Demographic information/ your preferences.
For Singaporeans, hide the following information: gender, sexuality, gender you’re interested in, hometown, ethnicity. They’re just clutter and add no value if you’re a normie (like me). But if you’re not a normie, indicate the aspects that would surprise a general audience.
Your religious and political beliefs. Important to state to sieve out people dissimilar from you (you cannot ignore their ugly heads for long, no matter how hard you try). If someone’s apolitical, they’re immediately out for me, no matter how good their ELO is.
Family plans. VERY IMPORTANT. Dealbreaker.
Your dating intentions and relationship type. Important. Don’t lie about it — you will waste everyone’s time. Most people seek monogamous relationships, so that’s not an issue. More interesting is dating intentions. I provide a layman’s translation below for the preferences.
Life partner = I WANT TO GET MARRIED AND I ROUGHLY KNOW WHEN.
Long-term relationship = I MIGHT WANT TO GET MARRIED, BUT I’M UNSURE WHEN.
Long-term relationship, open to short = I WANT A PARTNER, BUT I’M DTF.
Short-term relationship, open to long = I AM PRIMARILY DTF, BUT YOU MIGHT CHANGE MY MIND. DON’T HOPE FOR IT THOUGH!
Short-term relationship = I AM JUST HERE TO SMASH OR HAVE A SITUATIONSHIP!!! I SHOULD BE ON TINDER!!! WHY AM I HERE!!!
Figuring out my dating goals = I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I WANT. HELP! 🚩🚩🚩
Prefer not to say = AVOID ME AT ALL COSTS, BECAUSE I AM HIDING SOMETHING.
Assuming men prioritise physical attractiveness, all you have to do is show that you’re hot.
I didn’t put my bikini picture on there, but I’d probably have had more matches if I had. I did put my garter reel on there, and of course, it drove the boys crazy, even if they pretended otherwise. (I know you watched the video, even if you messaged me via another prompt.)
But note that being hot only gets your foot in the door. It doesn’t mean you’ll hold their attention. You also need some degree of personality (see above), or you won’t be wife material.
mm.
Men: have it a little harder
Assume women are looking for security in the form of a man (1) being able to provide economic and status resources, (2) offering physical protection, and (3) being willing to commit. You need to communicate these three aspects to be an ideal fit for a long-term partner.
Uniform (NS) pictures are particularly interesting because they are fundamentally about two things: power and by extension authority kinks. Being a high-ranking soldier always helps, but eh, there are many officers around so don’t expect it to build your case much. A guy did tell me he was a Captain, though, and that was mm, chef’s kiss. Nice. But he said I was too unhinged. And if you look like a daddy in your uniform picture, well? Throw it in, baby! Bonus for you, bonus for me.
Some picture of you doing a rich-looking hobby. You don’t actually have to be rich. Examples of rich-looking hobbies are diving, golf, wine, driving a BOAT, I am out of ideas. I know this sounds classist. But people are classist, especially in Singapore, whether they admit it or not. We’re just playing by the rules. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.
Willingness to commit. Generally, women who are looking for LTRs avoid fuckboy-looking profiles because the vibe they communicate is “I’m a hot guy, I have choices, you’re in for a ride”. (This comes from someone with the same vibe on their profile.) I was more than happy to play along with a handsome boy who looked like one, though, because I trusted that he was looking for love. He proceeded to disappoint me. Sigh. Like I said, first impressions don’t lie.
attaboy
Now my friends (rubs hands) is the EXCITING PART!!!
That’s right — we’re critiquing GWYN’S HINGE PROFILE!!!
Observe: babygirl in the wild.
Alright. Let’s break down my profile based on the pictures and prompts in the order you see in the video.
Video #1 (garter reel): Got 200k on Instagram reels. Can’t go wrong. I think it works because of the surprise factor (someone told me it’s borderline flashing) and my knowing smile.
The poll (Hell’s Museum): Optimised to identify prospects interested in visiting Haw Par Villa, which seemed like a fun first date to me. Going to Hell, that is. Quite revealing of my personality.
The voice prompt: You can’t hear it but it’s me mispronouncing my name (in the style of Wahluigi) against the backdrop of video game music. I thought it was funny. Some people agreed.
Text prompt #1 (Jazz in July): Specifies a relatively niche music genre, jazz, which I love. It sieves out people who are open to new or similar interests. (I return to this in guide #7; it was a surprisingly pivotal prompt. Also, going back to guide #2, it effectively showed me who had a genuine interest in my hobbies.)
Demographics. Note the omission of non-critical information.
Picture #1 (phone booth): Simply because I’m smiling authentically. I really liked this moment in time. You catch the vibe or you don’t.
Picture #2 (mirror selfie): I felt hot with this one. That’s it. It’s one of the more popular pictures among my matches.
Text prompt #2 (weirdly attracted to men): Communicates my love-hate relationship with men and if you read into it more, my bratty nature. Easy to reply to to start a conversation (it’s all about pandering to the audience). I’ll admit it’s not the best prompt, though, because it’s quite generic.
Video #2 (pool): Another hobby to connect with others like myself. I’m not good, but that’s not the point. The point is to demonstrate you’re willing to try something new.
Text prompt #3 (Tajikistan): I wrote this because I had learned that fact the day before and didn’t have anything else to write. It communicates somewhat that I enjoy trivia. It was not a very good prompt, though it did have its takers.
Picture #3 (cat ears): Tailored to the male gaze.
Picture #4 (Tom meme): Because I love him. Also, high-level playful jab as if to judge men eyeing my profile (to make them a bit self-aware).
Feel free to criticise constructively for discussion’s sake. It won’t hurt my feelings because whatever you say, it worked well enough for me.
I later modified my profile to replace the following:
Original
Modified
Rationale for change
Text Prompt #1 (Jazz in July)
Together, we could To save your time and mine, I: [included my dealbreakers]
Only Two (2) People in my entire time on Hinge were genuinely interested in jazz. So, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was too niche to the point that it was almost useless. (But see guide #7 when it’s out…)
The dealbreakers text was a significant improvement from the original because it effectively filtered out men who could not handle me.
Text Prompt #2 (weirdly attracted to men)
I won’t shut up about how to hyperoptimise love and dating
Well, self-explanatory. And serves as a conversation starter since people are interested in this topic.
Text Prompt #3 (Tajikistan)
What if I told you that I can tell what your aura is by the end of our first date
Party trick I realised I had a talent for after going on a few first dates. And people love hearing about how others see them.
So yeah, I eliminated what wasn’t working. I didn’t have time to change the pictures, though if I could, I would replace the one of me playing pool with me drunkenly yelling in public. In the style of if you can’t handle this, don’t swipe me.
OK that was longer than I expected. Let’s move on to the Conversion Process.
The Conversion Process: App -> Texting
Use the in-app chat platform to sieve out instant dealbreakers. This includes people who are RUDE or who don’t know their boundaries.
Examples. Again, profile pictures are not hidden because I do not care. You put yourself out there, you deal with the consequences of your behaviour.
^ This guy is a particularly good example of someone who should be instantly DQed. A “neg” is a psychological tactic primarily used by men to get women. It involves insulting the woman to bring her confidence down, hoping she’ll like you more in an attempt to compensate. But I don’t even think he was operating at this level — I wouldn’t give him that much credit. He probably just disliked me.
I did convert him to Telegram, because he was hot and I was trying to see the good in him, but it was a mistake. Our subsequent texting was toxic af. We didn’t full-out hurl insults at each other, but I could feel his contempt for me dripping in his words. It was a disgusting experience. Why put myself through that? And you might think that you can change them, but consider: what are you really inviting with a person who fundamentally believes he can be rude to strangers?If he’s rude to you from the beginning, he will continue to be rude. Anyway, next.
^ Asking for head off the bat is insane. You think you deserve head from me? Men would BEG and then PAY for it, and you think you can get it with what??? A skincare routine, like, basic self-care? Jesus. Immediately dropped.
Only convert with those with whom you have established a degree of conversational flow. This is subjective, but once you feel comfortable texting them, convert them immediately from the app to amessaging platform. I usually give my Telegram username and ask them to DM me. I do this typically within an hour or at most a day of texting them on Hinge. After all, if you don’t like them later, you can sever the connection (see guide #6 on this topic).
I think that’s enough for this post. In the next guide, #5, we will discuss the rules of engagement — that is, how to build rapport on Telegram AND how to have a great first date! See you then. Kiss ❤
Alright, ya clowns, we are so back because I just submitted the first draft of my thesis. Good riddance! In letting it spread its wings, I, too, flew here immediately.
In this episode, we do the preparatory legwork before we jump into the battlefield.
Huh? Not dating yet? Yeah. Don’t get yourself all tangled up. Fail to prepare, and prepare to fail.
We will cover two aspects: knowing thyself and knowing thy enemy (as an extension of #1).
A necessary caveat to protect my readers’ feelings because I care for you: all of this is my own opinion. I am critical by design because because criticism is the way to improve. I fully acknowledge I may be wrong, and I might change my mind in the future. If you don’t like what you see, you don’t have to read it; set your own boundaries, or others will do it for you. But interestingly, if you experience a sting, it’s probably because you see yourself reflected herein.
oo wee (gee)!
Knowing Thyself
To know yourself and conquer the battlefield, you must be able to confidently answer two questions:
Who are you, babygirl? And what do you have to offer the market?
The Rationale
I mention figuring out what you have to offer. Now, I am all against self-objectification (I deal with enough from men daily. Stop DMing me from your damn anon alt-accounts or I will jolly well block you. This is my FINAL warning; stay in your place). But if love is a game, marriage is a market, and you are ultimately a commodity on auction. You define your own value, but you will still be subjected to market rate considerations. Nobody will pay for you if you act like you’re all that but have no concrete value.
Men (and women) can smell when you are all style and no substance. My second date told me he had met a girl who was “all talk and no show”, and his evaluation of her was “arrogant”. Ugh. I cringed internally for her. I would hate to be her; the prospect terrified me. I’m sure it’s the same for you. (That being said, what does it matter what others think of you? There’s no one to please when you play by your own rules.)
The point is that you need to be realistic and pragmatic about what you really are. Again, reducing ourselves to objects in the style of Carousell — bless that hellhole — you need to set accurate prices to find buyers. If you want to reach a class of buyers (the “elites”) that can pay a lot and are willing to, you have to be worth a lot in the first place.
And it’s not that hard to align yourself when you see things as they are. Think of it this way: when you underprice something on Carousell (as I did once), the messages come in a tsunami. When you overprice it, that item sits in your storeroom for years. Only when you find the sweet spot can you start pruning the buyers genuinely interested in making a transaction. On a dating app like Hinge, the logic is similar. If you present yourself authentically, you won’t have a shortage of likes from people who are interested in you as you are. But if you’re inauthentic or booooooring, you won’t be attracting “elite” buyers — which I assume is what you are seeking.
the bar gets lower everyday
Note the emphasis on as you are. Many buyers are out there, some of which are “elites”, but that does not mean they are a good fit for you. Sure, we got a snazzy, tall, handsome, rich man out here for drinks (story below, keep reading), but he looks at you condescendingly and only wants to sleep with you. Are you going to accept that? It’s you we’re talking about, you know. You’re so much more than an item on sale. Respect yourself.
The Process of Becoming
You must first know what you are and be willing to do the shadow work to get there. The fundamental question is: do you see and accept yourself as you are?
The easy questions
What are your goals and dreams? Where do you want to be in a year, in five years’ time?
What are your hobbies?
What are your strengths?
And so on. These are simple questions to answer but are nonetheless crucial because where you want to go will determine what kind of partner you’re looking for. In other words, they help you piece together your key considerations and dealbreakers.
Here’s mine after I did some self-analysis. It’s not the full version because why would I reveal myself so fully to the public (yes, I am being sarcastic). I’m just putting it here because I wrote it in jest, but it works well enough.
If he does the following, I would die for him (inclusion criteria)
If he DOESN’T do the following, he can go away x (exclusion criteria/dealbreakers)
Read REAL books regularly (yes I am gatekeeping)
Read my blog and tell me how much he loves my art
Actively listen (stop using your damn phone)
Act BE obsessed with me 24/7/365
Communicate his thoughts and needs (a defining feature of a secure man)
Plaster pictures of me all over his phone and social media profiles
Practice ACCOUNTABILITY
Text me first, politely, stating his intentions clearly
Have big dick energy
Like me for more than just my hot N sexy body
Hmm. It’s quite close to what I actually want.
But life’s not all flowers and sunshine.
The harder questions (the real shadow work)
What are the flaws that define you? More importantly, are you okay with them?
A fantastic example from yours truly: my emotional intensity (often confused with “volatility“, which I will never stop yapping about). Tl;dr I feel emotions to an extreme degree, ostensibly more so than others experiencing those same emotions. Let’s say the same nice thing happened to us today, and we are both happy about it. While you might experience it as a 7/10 in intensity, I’m probably a 9/10. It doesn’t seem like an issue (ignoring my hypomanic antics) until I have negative emotions like sadness and anger. When I’m sad, I’m really sad, like 9/10 all the time. And when I’m mad — haha. Like they say, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
I don’t want to get into this further because it’s irrelevant to the discussion, but to put it simply and for my own closure, I don’t believe I’m more intense than the average person. I think people have this mistaken impression because (1) I can articulate my emotions clearly through writing, and (2) most people are not as keen on expressing their thoughts as publicly as I do. But just because you don’t see someone’s emotions doesn’t mean they’re not feeling it.
And because I feel this strange need to defend myself again, I no longer vent my negative emotions on people. I put them in places for me. And if my friends need distance from my evil space, they are always welcome to step away from the room. It’s not their problem unless they care.
Finally, consider this: what is a flaw, socially speaking? In contexts like social interaction with infinite possibilities, virtually any personality trait could be perceived as a strength as much as a flaw. I discuss it as a personality flaw in finding a husband because it repeatedly emerged as a dealbreaker for prospective men. But I doubt it is a flaw otherwise. If you took this part of me away, I would be an empty husk; I would no longer be the Gwyneth adored by my family, friends, and fans.
But that’s enough digression. Suffice it to say that I have accepted my emotional intensity as essential to my identity or how I view myself as a separate individual (yay, social psych!). Once I came to terms with myself, I could easily identify and eliminate those who would not help me grow. It is OK if they do not accept me; I am whole as I am. I will find someone who will accept me and walk by my side.
And that’s the beauty of it all, I guess: when you accept your flaws, they are no longer flaws.
The Consequences of Becoming
Okay, story time. I posted Instagram stories about this immediately after it happened (see highlights > Unhinged), but I’ll do a short recap because there are so many things to take away from it.
He was the fifth man I met since the Hinge era. We’ll call him #5. He invited me to drinks at this fancy bar. We did not text much prior to meeting. But his ELO score was so high that I threw caution to the wind (a mistake, as we will see). Essentially, this guy was maxed out on his educational attainment, job/income, height (perfect 180cm, supposedly), family background, and musical/sports skills. And he was handsome to boot. His profile was so absurd that when I saw it in my matches, I was like, babygirl’s in the big leagues, baby.
But here’s the thing: I had a gut feeling I was not enough for him. I texted my friends shortly before meeting him, quote in verbatim:
tbh he prolly just wants to sleep with me. i’m not wife material for this kind of level (i am not putting myself down. i am realistic). and i wouldn’t mind but actually i would. i not feeling it tonight
Why? We had nothing in common. Not education, definitely not income, ignore height, family background unclear. I was interested in engaging in some of his hobbies, but I was not there yet. I had not yet become what he was. In other words, there was an absence of connection.
Lo and behold, as God willed it, I was right on the dollar. I did not feel safe around this man and it stayed that way throughout. He wasn’t actively posing a threat to me, no, but I could feel my body unconsciously rejecting him. When he asked to hold my hand, and I put them in his, my arms literally strained to pull away. When he casually put his arm around my shoulder, I had to fight the instinctive urge to lock my body. (Another funny detail: he told me he had already had dinner. I was like… oh. Now that’s new. Talk about hyperoptimised dating; even the meal is eliminated!)
We did have a single moment when we genuinely shared a laugh, but it was not enough. He told me at the end that I was not what he was looking for. I was like, OK, taken aback, but I understand (all according to keikaku).
And… I don’t think I’ll sleep with you tonight.
When those words left my pretty mouth, he demonstrated the elite equivalent of a seizure. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly (what is this, Wattpad?), and he froze in his seat, tilting his head at me like I was some alien. I stared back at him, confused… starting to understand. He was so confident he could bag me based on his conditions alone that he had not anticipated failure.
Then we went downstairs to return to our separate homes. And we were settling our last goodbyes when he suddenly stepped forward to be closer to me. I flinched and backed away. I had to reiterate that I did not intend to sleep with him. And he looked at me in that way again, with that perplexed, distant gaze, indicating his inability to comprehend how a woman (who did not feel safe with him) could possibly not want to sleep with him. By this time, I already knew that he was not honest about his intentions insofar as he did not admit them — sealing his disqualification, sexually and emotionally.
He then got into the cab, and I was left standing there dazed as if I had emerged from a chess game.
He won the game, but I won the war, I guess.
real clown-to-clown communication moment
And yes, true to his fine upbringing, he texted me to thank me for my time with good grace afterwards. But even his text was de-rizzed, like he had deflatedly realised his place. I had excised the ego from the man. I reciprocated and then wiped the chat.
(He told me not to write about him, by the way. They all do. I don’t care.)
Apologies for the exposition. To circle back to our main point, when you know what you are and what you want, you can break any man’s ego. Sorry, I mean, you’ll be able to find the one for you way more efficiently.
Knowing Thy Enemy
Speaking of finding the one for you —
What do you want, babygirl?
You need to date to know what you want. If you don’t know what’s out there, you don’t know what’s good for you. It really is that simple. If you think you know what you want without having dated anyone, you’re probably relying on societal assumptions to define what you want. If that works for you, go ahead, but your chances of suboptimal outcomes are higher.
But there’s a hidden rule here — you attract what you are.
A man from my past reached out to me on Hinge. I was amused, so I replied, but he was never in the running. Not because of our history but because he couldn’t even figure out what he wanted from a relationship (as his profile indicated, not my assumption). OK, so you want to fuck me? Then say it like you mean it, and I’ll decide. (I had decided in advance: no.)
If you are confused, you will attract a confused person. In my humble opinion, that is a colossal waste of time because I am looking for a HUSBAND. However, I’m all for it if you guys can align on your confusion and collaborate to work it out together.
And that’s the kicker: even if you don’t know, you have to know that you don’t know.
Hence, we come full circle to knowing thyself.
Marrying (haha) the Two
To me, love is about finding the ideal partner while being the ideal partner. Thus, as I reiterate, work on yourself before you get out there. A relationship is a project, and you need to pull your weight. Any self-respecting person would expect their teammates to do their part, so why should you be exempt? You might have gotten away with it in your studies, but do you think the dating circle will be this forgiving? If you want to love, be ready to give yourself completely.
Knowing yourself and knowing your enemy are concepts that kind of reciprocally influence each other, but the first is paramount.
When you know and accept yourself, everything else will come naturally.
listening to him breathe i drew crisscrossing lines in my head — destiny is a little bit like geometry but i dreamt of nothing, strangely he smiled and said serenely that’s because you’re free from worry!
indeed, now that my mind’s empty in those spaces, between our figures
there will be room / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / for a new memory
If I sleep with a man on the first date, it must mean I am (you are) emotionally ready to disqualify him permanently. To see it through is to certify with a seal that I do not expect to see him again, and I’ll be fine if I don’t. In fact, I must expect to never see any man that I sleep with again if we do so before any binding commitment is made. I ate him up and got what I wanted; that’s a full hunt completed.
They took what they could, and so did I.
If they do not want more, neither shall I ask nor desire.
Don’t turn around, don’t blink twice.
This does not mean I view men as “prey”. I’m not delusional (I think, haha). I respect them as human beings like myself. We are equals; coercion is never involved (or the police will join the party).
But I will reciprocate how they treat me. Some men (not all) act like this is a game and women are prey to be devoured. There may be no coercion, but there is always persuasion and manipulation in human relations. They think that if they go through the motions and “play the game right”, women will willingly fall into their arms — and they don’t even have to commit.
But there are no free lunches in this world.
They think they’re the hunters; they don’t realise I own the hunting ground.
And on these grounds, babygirls — contrary to my tagline — love is not a game.
A dual post because it was only a matter of time before all of what I’ve written would come together. To love and to date is to find yourself, and when you find yourself, you will meet the ones for you.
It’s #3.5 on the hyperoptimised dating series because the content is an extension of #3, which I haven’t yet written. But it will come soon.
These two weeks have been a huge test for me — of my will. I’ve learnt so much so quickly that even my core beliefs have been shaken. Up to this point, I believed I should give my everything in whatever I do, whoever I meet…. but I can see why people are hesitant to do so now. I tried to hyperoptimise the search for love only to find that the thing I could not optimise in the end was myself. We cannot optimise love because it is not meant to be optimised.
Everyone I’ve met tells me I give love too quickly and commit too fully. I don’t agree, but they’re right about the consequences, which are very real.
Nonetheless, I’ve made a few observations that are fascinating to me and that my readers might enjoy.
First: people like to aim for things that are just beyond our reach — it’s pure instinct. But the divine irony of it all is that to be the partner of a person who is “better” than you, you have to be better than yourself so you “deserve” them. I do not believe people “deserve” or do not deserve each other; everyone deserves to be loved. But there are unbreakable rules in life, and this is one of them.
I realised that I’ve always “joked” about finding a rich man because I have been looking for a man to compensate for a part of me that I perceived I lacked. But there is nothing to compensate for. As Cher wisely opined, I don’t need a rich man; I am the rich man. I will become him. When I do, the rest will work it out by itself. Indeed, that is the mentality of the secure men I’ve met — they take their time and are stern with their boundaries because they always want better, better, better.
And why not indeed? I’ve been out for less than a month on Hinge and am already batting like crazy. But not only is it about where you’re at now, it’s about where you’re going. And I will keep growing; in a year, I will be more, and in two years, I will be much more. When you tend to your garden, the butterflies will come. When I become a rich (and hot) man, I won’t need a rich man anymore.
So, ultimately, this is not about men or potential partners I might have. It is about me. It was always about me; it was always about you.
Second and related: if you are serious about finding the one for you, you must first know who you are.
I suspect men are afraid of me. Because I am so intense and seemingly ready to do unhinged shit (it’s only unhinged because they don’t understand) that they realise that they cannot control me — and these men cannot accept a woman they cannot control. I think that’s the crux of it all in a relationship dynamic: it’s all about power. In short, weaker men cannot handle me, and they drop me such that I shatter on the floor. (Most men can’t even handle being told that they’re weak.)
That’s what the men really mean when they tell me I’m “emotionally volatile” or I’m “headstrong” or whatever to that effect. They’re all related. I saw it flash across a prospect’s eyes when we met for the last time as potential partners. I told him about my plans for the future, and he tripped thrice, so much that I asked him if he was doing it for theatrical effect. He did not say it then, but it was already a dealbreaker for him, and maybe he just wanted to see it through to the inevitable end.
This guess of mine will never be fully validated because they will never admit it is so. But I can see it anyway — I see it with the men in my past and the men I’ve met recently. I see it in the way they orbit me. My malicious side wants them to think, in those moments they watch my stories, why are you still here? But hey, since you are, watch me — I’m going to be the girl you could’ve had and will never have again because you didn’t know what you wanted. You were a part of my life and I’m grateful for that — but you were not meant to stay. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.
But it doesn’t matter whether they feel the way I want them to. I might be completely delusional. It doesn’t matter what they feel anyway. They have their own lives and deserve happiness too.
I’ll just not be there to see it.
I am not emotionally volatile. I used to be, maybe. I hurt others; I regret it. And I will make mistakes. I can’t help it if I have thorns on my body that regrow even when I tear them out and I bleed because I didn’t want to hurt others when they came close. I must accept myself for who I am. I can only hope my friends will love me regardless — and I trust that they do. I too accept them for everything that they are.
My emotional intensity is not a weakness; it is quite literally my cardinal trait. People who say I’m volatile do not understand me in the way I understand myself. And I do not have the time to explain myself to them because we have other things to do. Let them think what they want. I will say this though: if I am emotionally volatile, then let the primary emotions I cycle between be joy and awe.
I will be brave, even if I must make it alone.
There are always “better” people out there. But they are not for you. You deserve someone who sees you as you are. When you realistically recognise your place, you’ll know where you want to be.
Will you stay or will you go? That’s up to you.
I have only met one man about whom I was completely sure from the beginning. And the reason was simpler than I had expected — he felt like home, where I was meant to be, as I was. I was so sure about my gut feeling that I’d have given him the reins if he asked. But he told me, as if he saw something in me I did not then, that I was too unstable for him.
And on reflection — indeed, I am. He could not handle me. That’s not on him; it’s not on me. We were just not meant to be. We live, and we learn.
So, as I intended, the man I end up with will be a brat tamer. And he won’t even have to tell me. I will know when we cross paths. He’ll love the challenge, and I’ll give myself fully in return.
We will not “settle for” anyone until I find someone who loves me as intensely and deliberately as I love him. He has to be like me. I am looking for a soulmate. With or without them, I am walking ahead at my own pace. If I don’t get married, hell, so be it; there are more incredible things in life waiting for me.
My priority is not men. It will never be men. It will always be me.
when i think of love — i think of you and me standing, looking at each other. we are on two islands; there is a chasm between us, a torrid body of water so deep it bleeds into the earth’s core.
i’m dying to reach you: i could jump into the water, and if i’m lucky, i’ll wash ashore on your sands. but i start to wonder: would you do the same for me?
could we meet in the middle?
i return my attention to your eyes; your gaze has softened now. there’s still love in it, i know. but it doesn’t have the edge it did before, that absolute determination to swim or die trying.
you wouldn’t do it for me, wouldyou?
you turn away to another island; i am left looking at you across mine, before i eventually turn too.
i watched Suspiria earlier on a whim. to be as spoiler-free as possible (the movie was a LOT), it is essentially about a witch coming into being — in the sense that she became who she was meant to be.
it was a masterpiece. in its post-credits scene, she looks beyond the screen and subtly smiles as if she recognises something monumental has happened; she is at peace with it; something greater is coming, and she is ready.
hyperbole perhaps, but something about this film fundamentally altered my brain chemistry. the witch is… powerful, devastatingly so when attuned to her purpose, but merciful and forgiving at the same time. she is a mother; she is everything a woman would want to be.
it hit me hard because i’ve only begun to realise that there is, in fact, something powerful within me. but now that i’ve discovered it — the only thing left to do is be who i really am, as i am. but if you are to be truly yourself you have to let go of everything that you thought you loved and wanted to love.
but it’s such a herculean process — it hurts so much, my god, does it hurt — and the suffering doesn’t even abate with time. you have to do it over and over, discarding things that don’t serve you, armed only with the belief that your suffering now will eventually serve a grander purpose. not that they’re not beautiful and precious — they just were not made for you.
do you understand? — i always ask the ones i love.
but does it matter?
as much as i want to be connected with everyone else, this life was for me.
life was a lot easier when i was not aware. i was walking blind and letting others lead my way. but now that i know exactly what i want — i have to chart the path on my own.
someone once told me that life is like swimming across the sea; the English Channel is an example, if you will. you must swim across or drown trying. and you’ll have people along the way with you; if you’re lucky, you’ll find a partner to support you. but if both of you are to make it across, you have to know how to swim without the other.
and if you have to rely on your partner to make it across, you will not only drown: you will kill them too.
i used to think — only three weeks ago, actually — that i needed someone to complete me. but i understand now, as our protagonist did:
baby g’s diary 