21 Apr 2017

A couple weeks ago, I was on the bus home from a night out. It was late and the bus was empty bar one young guy who sat in the seat across the aisle from me. For a while, we didn’t say anything – as a woman it seemed like the safer option not to talk to a stranger at 3 in the morning. But then he said hello. And I said hello. And we got to talking.

The conversation didn’t last long – it was only five minutes or so before we pulled up at his stop – but there was that little unexplainable something that you very occasionally get when you meet new people. An instant ease. I think we both felt it, and as he was getting up to leave we hesitated for a moment, both trying and failing to work up the courage to ask for a phone number. In the end, he got off the bus and disappeared in the dark. I didn’t even know his name.

The next day was a frenzy of Facebook stalking. Without even a first name to go off, tracking him down was near impossible. I trawled through masses of Facebook events, tagged photos from bars and suggested friends, but it was to no avail. Honestly, I felt pretty pathetic, frantically scouring Facebook like a crazy person. I should have just had the guts to ask for his number in the first place, instead of yet again trying to start a relationship via social media.

phone number digits

So, after digging my way out of the inevitable shame spiral that followed this experience, I made a decision. No more social media when it comes to dating. All it was doing was giving me an excuse not to approach people I found attractive irl. Why bother going up to strangers when I could just match with them from the comfort of my bedroom?

I went cold turkey, deleting everything that was safeguarding me from forming a real life connection. It was scary not having a fallback option, but I knew I didn’t want to tell my future kids that I met the love of my life on Tinder. There’s nothing wrong with that and I know plenty of successful relationships that have started online. But I wanted to have a story.

I wanted furtive glances across train carriages. I wanted cheesy pick-up lines and buying someone a drink. I wanted workplace romances and kissing against the photocopier. I wanted pretty faces in crowds. Okay, so I know this is the romanticised Hollywood-version of how couples meet, but hey – meeting a guy on a lonely bus ride home is pretty damn close. Well, it could have been if I’d had my realisation a little earlier.

bus cute

So much of our lives these days happens in the cybersphere. Important conversations are had, friendships are formed, relationships blossom. It’s been this way for most of our lives – I still remember running home from year six class to chat to my crush on MSN because I couldn’t work up the courage to talk to him at school. But we too often forget that real smiles don’t look the same as emojis, and the sound of someone’s laughter is way better than reading ‘lol’ in a Facebook message.

I’m learning that I would much prefer to have the memories from a good conversation than the chat history. And I would prefer to feel the crushing anxiety of approaching a stranger than have the first words the love of my life say to me is that I look hot in my profile picture. I’m not a confident person, so it’s by no means easy for me. But it’s a challenge I really want to try my best at.

How’s it going so far, you ask? I’ve certainly gotten better at talking to people I’ve just met, but I haven’t made a connection yet. But it doesn’t even matter – it’s been way more fun and exciting trying to catch the eye of a cute boy on the bus, than staring down and swiping through them on a screen.