gwyn’s guide to hyperoptimised dating, #3.5 (becoming, #3)

in this series: #1 (#1.5) | #2 | #3 (#3.5) | #4 | #5 (#5.5) | #6 | #7

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.

And we are going to live.

gwyn’s guide to hyperoptimised dating, #2 (he’s just not that into you)

in this series: #1 (#1.5) | #2 | #3 (#3.5) | #4 | #5 (#5.5) | #6 | #7 (#7.5)

i am cursed to be a woman; i am cursed to feel. the problem is that i struggle to determine who really wants me for who i am before i fall. elite men or otherwise, it is undeniable that i am only a body to some of them. i fear the proportion is higher than i wish it is. […]

but my femininity is not a weakness, it is a strength.

to my friends, and for my fans now

Welcome back to Gwyn’s Guide to Hyperoptimised Dating, where dating (and love) is a numbers game — and we hack it to hell.

Oh, following feedback from a fan yesterday on post #1 (sex and love), I wanted to take this space to add something before we proceed. They raised a good point that some men need time to get to know you better before they decide if you’re the one for them. If you bypass the pre-sex courtship, then, it is likelier that the man might develop feelings for you and get “sucked in” (verbatim quote, poor men!). Therefore, you lose the bucket of fence-sitters if you sleep with them early on.

It’s a fair point and I don’t disagree. My answer is that this boils down to personal preference: are you willing to give the fence-sitters a chance? I’ve met men who knew I was the one for them — at least, at that point — from the first time we met, and they were willing to show me from the start. Do I want to settle for anything less? I don’t think so.


In Part 2, on special request by a sweetheart, we will discuss signs of interest and when to disqualify.

I hope the psychopaths who want me don’t read this, or I have to wrack my brain to discover new and innovative ways to determine if men are interested in me (beyond my body). GOD!

I would say it all boils down to a gut feeling, but I thought that one of them I met was the one and that went down the drain real quick. So out with the vibes, out with the delusions, babygirls. At least I caught myself instantly this time — clearly, the compartmentalisation practice is working out.

We look only at actions hereon.


What’s in a Date?

With shock and surprise, I realised retroactively that men (and women) who are genuinely interested in you will want to partake in your hobbies. Groundbreaking indeed.

mrw

As you all know, it’s Jazz in July, and I initially began only intending to find cute boys to go to jazz concerts with (before I got sidetracked by hot men… thank you, Jesus…).

There were, broadly speaking, only two types of responses I received:

  1. I don’t know much about jazz, but I’d love to try if you’re willing to have me 🙂
  2. I don’t like jazz; can we do something else?

How interesting, right? Now, you can argue that the second type of man simply knows what he wants. That’s okay. I love men who are honest and have opinions. However, note that there is less acquiescence on his part compared to the first response type. If you bring it to the logical maximum it suggests that he is less interested in what you like as opposed to what he likes.

It is not about what we actually do. It is about how we get there.

Still, one date is poor sample sizing; there is nothing to interpolate from. Yet we must do our best because we are hyperoptimising.

Hence, we look at what we do on the second date (if there is one).

When planning the date together, did they ask what you’d like to do? Are they at least suggesting things that meet in the middle for both of you?

During the date, are they asking about you? What do you like, babygirl? What do you want in life? Where are you going? What are your fears? What do you look for in a partner? …How can I love you in the best way I can?

Or are they talking about themselves incessantly?

Texting, Yapping, Quality Time, Whatever You Like

Again, being kind and giving the benefit of the doubt, a relationship is meant to be founded on compromises. One guy mentioned we could go to a jazz bar, which was nice enough of him.

Unfortunately, he proceeded to text me remarkably inconsistently, so I figured he liked someone else more, dropped him, and bumped up my next favourite (possibly one of my top 10 decisions this year). It’s a pity (I exaggerate) because his face card was fantastic, but more importantly, I knew he could love — he still has pictures of his ex from years ago on his Instagram! (He orbits me, by the way. If you’re here, hi.)

The above is an example of a universal truth. If they wanted you, they would text you. NOBODY IS THAT BUSY THAT THEY CANNOT TEXT YOU. DO NOT MAKE EXCUSES FOR THEM! Additionally, the critical element distinguishing an excellent communicator (look out for it) is that if they were really busy, they would take the initiative to explain why. An exemplar:

Hey babygirl, I’m so sorry for my delayed responses as I’ve been swamped with work. Still, please feel free to text me whenever, and I’ll do my best to get back to you whenever I can. Love you lots x

It really is that simple. If you don’t have the physical bandwidth to write that, then bloody hell, just copy the text above and send it to the person you care about. My god! Do I have to say this!

People who love you will always set aside time for you.

They will not ghost you. I hate that term; I hate them all. I was so ready to love you for who you are, and this is what you thought I deserved in return. Not even an explanation, but nothing at all. It’s fine though — as the Stoics say, we are entitled to nothing from other people; to have expectations of others is futile. To give yourself to someone fully, you must expect nothing in return. And we must let go; we must return things as they are to make room for more, for better.

Your room has limited space. Do not give chances to people who do not cherish your attention. In the game of hyperoptimised dating, you only have one shot, and you’d better make the best of it.

So, love boils down to a war of attrition, I guess. He who persists wins.

Don’t turn around and change your mind; we don’t have time for that.

me yelling at me to RESPECT MYSELF

Sigh. I have once again written too much. But here’s the devastating kicker: if they liked you, you wouldn’t need to worry about these at all.

They would do all of it in the first place because you’re worth it to them.

And that’s what makes me sad.


Bonus: A Love Letter to My Orbiters

If you didn’t know, orbiters are people who do not reply your texts but watch your stories anyway. I categorise them into two types: malicious or stupid orbiters. But that’s a discussion for another time.

Processing orbiters is as easy as 123. If they can watch your stories, they have time to text you. Therefore, if they do not text you, they are just not that into you. Thank you. Mute their stories and go and talk to someone else who will be happy for your love and attention. But I’m not complaining; the orbiter class of men is my guilty pleasure (I mute orbiters who matter to me from watching my stories). Ultimately, every orbiter is a fan, and I adore my fans.

But that’s all you’ll ever be. If you’re happy with that, I’ll be happy for you too.


P/S: I’m not a saint. I make mistakes too. I yap too much, and I’m too emotionally volatile (apparently). Sometimes I inadvertently hurt people. So if you want something from me, tell me, babygirl, tell me now.

I’ll give it to you, because you’re worth it.

And so we end, before I go:

i’ll find a life partner eventually. but the love of my life — it’s me. and it’s you guys, my friends, who accept me completely as i am.

to my friends, and for my fans now (cont.)

Love you lots, always. x


in this series: #1 (#1.5) | #2 | #3 (#3.5) | #4 | #5 (#5.5) | #6 | #7 (#7.5)

interregnum, #3 (the lovesick logs)

i used to be obsessed with this guy; i dreamt about him for years. even as he hurt me, over and over, vengefully because i had hurt him too, i clung to the idea of him, desperate for his love. i was willing to drop everything for him if only he would ask, if only he wanted me the way i wanted him so completely. the day i gave up on him for good when he told me i was too much for him. i guess i needed that closure, and at least i found it.

the thing is, i found myself loving again. and the next one was better, or so i thought. and then i fell out of love. and then i fell again, for — you won’t believe this — an even better one. because i was growing and i was becoming. and i will keep doing so, with or without them.

granted, with the current one, i think i’ve never felt so instantly sure before. but love has an insidious way of short-circuiting your brain making you blind to your past, your future, and even your present.

i’ve been thinking: i think many of us have a conception of love as a shared object. it is something given, but it has to be received to be complete. but i’m starting to wonder if it’s even simpler. maybe love is something that is merely given. it is not about what we have; it is not what you think about me. it is only about what i have to give you, because i wanted to, not because i wanted something in return.

and so love is not a game of deservedness — it is a game of appreciation. and so we keep going as much as we can. to love again and again, until we find someone who will accept us completely, as we are, as we will be.

to my dearest, #2

there’s a big win in here somewhere — in working on my thesis i’ve realised what i really want to do in life (spoiler: it’s not academia). i clearly have a knack for socialising, being myself online, and writing whatever i like. i find myself coming back, over and over, to these things as my refuge. and though that’s not why i’m doing it in the first place, the more intensely i give myself, the more i have received in return.

so, thank you to my beloved for being here. i want you to know that you will be in my acknowledgements and my heart always. my universe, mine.

somnolence

i could never fall asleep easily around them.

one time i stared wide-eyed at the ceiling through midnight until his alarm rang. when i studied him, basking in the warmth of the golden hour, he seemed to be having a pleasant dream: maybe life was sweeter for him there. back in reality, all that was left for me to do was envy him.

i think that one sleeps soundly when there’s nothing to worry about.

another time we stayed up until it was warm; i was talking at him throughout, at a pace so frenetic it was as if i already knew that we would never see each other again. i couldn’t sleep, even with the additional melatonin in my blood. i did have a lot i wanted to share, but now i wonder if it was also because i didn’t feel comfortable enough to let the silence settle in between us. it adds up, because i can no longer remember what we said, only what was left unsaid.

as someone who’s had insomnia all her life, falling asleep easily is a blessing. a perfect descent is like wading into a warm ocean with the scent of home around you. deceptively light at first, a heaviness weighs you down until you realise you’re sinking to the point of no return: it conquers you whether you embrace or resist it. but it’s easier to let go with someone — if you trust that they’ll eventually pull you back to the surface to breathe again.

maybe they knew, maybe they didn’t — either way, i don’t think they cared.

i’ve joined them now. these days, i burrow into my blanket and hug my bolster tight. for sure, doing so can’t replicate the affections of a drowsy lover. but it is nice in its own way: nestled away in my cocoon, sometimes — just sometimes — i hear the sound of the waves and nothing else.

good girls, good boys

someone told me, point-blank, that he wouldn’t date me because i was out of his league. he might have been lying, but i believe him; he had no reason to lie, and there’s no point ruminating over the reasons behind an immutable outcome.

still, it was a bizarre statement.

i was right there before him, asking if he wanted to be with me.

didn’t that mean that i thought he was good enough?

sure, i write about ELO scores and power asymmetry and all that. but in a moment like that, did he think such things mattered to me?

what does any of this matter as long as i love you?

but there he was, letting his demons get in the way, all the while looking at me but beyond me.

ah, so this is what it means when they say a relationship is a commitment. it is a commitment to work through your insecurities together — because you trust the other person to bring you through it.

i feel that rationality in the face of emotion is an illusion. if you can be rational when it comes to someone you’re head over heels for, you’re probably not as much in love as you think.

that’s how i knew they didn’t like me enough.

was it something about me? sometimes, i think they saw something in me that they decided they couldn’t handle. they didn’t trust me to stay. if i didn’t know any better, i would have thought that the problem has always been me — and yet it really isn’t, not at all.

that they chose not to stay breaks my heart, but it wasn’t about me. it wasn’t even ever about us.

it was always about them: what they wanted and felt they couldn’t want and didn’t deserve.

i can’t help but wistfully wonder if — or rather, how much — i would have loved his insecurities, or the insecurities of all the men i’ve loved. but much as i want to, their demons are not for me to address, and not even their eventual partners will be able to do so —

in the end, it’s a battle we have to confront alone.

gwyn’s theory of interpersonal interest, #1.5 (an interrogation of desire)

In this series: #1 | #1.5

This morning, I dreamt of one of them again.

We were at a chalet gathering, composed such that it seemed that I had organised a party on a whim merely to celebrate people important to me.

He stood out — of course he did — and when he made his entrance, my friends looked at him wryly, as if he was not one of us.

He was… insouciant, that’s the word. Nobody moved to accommodate him, yet he took his place in the middle of the circle as naturally as a king glides to his throne. I actively continued flittering in social butterfly mode, but I couldn’t help sneaking a look at him occasionally.

I might have kept looking in his direction because I was hoping there would be a moment when he would be looking back, having been waiting all this time to ensnare me.

All it would have taken was a single moment, a single intention, and a single action.

But it didn’t matter because I was his from the start, and I knew that he knew it.

Inevitably, he turned his attention to me as the night went on; perhaps that was his purpose all along as a character in my story. He was flirtatious to a fault, his manner careless; he acted like he wanted more, but he was a bad actor — all his declarations rang empty.

In spite of it all, I was getting carried away — until I caught myself, whereupon the dream ended.

As I lay staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of my dream, I realised that I had portrayed him in a unidimensional manner. That wasn’t necessarily on me: after all, I could only work with what he had decided to show me in the limited time we had together.

I am inclined to believe that he, like everyone else, is a complex creature. Our circles are deeply interconnected, much as I’d prefer otherwise (a drawback of sourcing your prospects from outside dating apps — it gets complicated). And when your circles overlap, you hear stories. When you hear stories, you come to conclusions.

My conclusion was that there was a lot more under his surface worth uncovering, even as his flaws seemed destined to prevent me from doing so.

But might I be being too kind to him to assume that he was more than what he seemed? His appeal was precisely his inaccessibility — he was a blank canvas on which I could project whatever I wanted.

I’ll admit that writing this post is an admission of desire — an example not accounted for in my theory of interpersonal interest. So, it is worth adding the caveat because I understand only now: to be interested in someone does not mean you ultimately want them in your life.

No matter how many dreams I have or how many love letters I write to you.

And yet — simply because we were not meant to be doesn’t mean I didn’t love you.

Or, at least, whatever I knew of you.

李克勤 – 藍月亮 / hacken lee – blue moon

excerpts, #8

everyone forms opinions about others; social cognition is as natural as breathing.

yet what i’ve learned about human nature is that we overweigh evidence available to us and underweigh evidence not available to us.

that’s reasonable; how can you make sense of what is not known to you?

but this is all much ado about nothing — my conclusion stands.

i do not need to be explained or understood; what i need is to be accepted as i am.