Absolute Pleasure
Absolute Pleasure
That Time I Got Banned From Tinder
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That Time I Got Banned From Tinder

Drama versus trauma.

I’ve been on many, many dating apps since my husband died in August 2021. From relationship centered Hinge to kinky Feeld, I’ve been on them all, multiple times. I was banned from Tinder, but I used my dead husband’s cell number to make a new account.

Oh, why did I get banned from Tinder you ask? I lost my shit on some guy who I met months earlier on OK Cupid. We had been texting all day, and I thought we were really connecting. It was late December 2021, so just a few months after Steven died.

Mr. Cupid and I were off the app and texting on our phones. I had already checked his number and knew he was using a fake name. I called him out on that, but what he didn’t know was that I dug a little deeper than just his name.

It never occurred to me that watching my husband die after three years with a terminal cancer diagnosis had left me severely traumatized. I thought I was doing all the things: selling my co-op apartment, moving, working, and single parenting my son with special needs. I was doing GREAT! Right?

I didn’t understand that losing my sense of safety, security and certainty left me feeling incredibly vulnerable. When Mr. Cupid didn’t text me back at the agreed upon time, something inside me broke. Apparently it was my ability to think rationally because my thoughts immediately assumed he had been fucking with me. With me?!?! But, he knew I was a bad bitch who held her husband’s hand as he died and whose father died exactly 4 months later on Christmas Day 2021.

Did I leave reality? I don’t know, but my punishment didn’t fit his crime. 

Earlier that day, while telling myself I was “verifying” his identity, I found his older brothers and their wives on Facebook. I then proceeded to leave him a voicemail, something akin to the following:

“Fuck you asshole! You better think twice before you fuck with me again. I know who your brothers are and I’m happy to let them know what their little brother has been up to. So stay away from me and if you fuck with me or my son again you will be sorry.”

Yep, I went crazy. He blocked me, and I eventually realized what I had done, but not before I had reported him to OK Cupid. He was using a fake name after all, right?

So, back to getting banned on Tinder….

I limited myself to only being on two apps at a time. I would be on them for a few weeks, then delete them and on to the next two. Rinse and repeat. This wasn’t my first Tinder account, but it was the first time I saw Mr. Cupid on this app.

Against my better judgment (okay, I had no better judgment at that time), I sent him the following message, “Are you having any better luck on Tinder?” A couple of days later I was banned. Can I say with 100% certainty that he reported me for harassment? No, but who could fault him if he did?

I’ve finally identified my trauma, and I am doing a specific type of therapy to address it. Still, I react badly to any type of perceived abandonment. I feel taken advantage of easily. My mind creates scripts where I am the dupe of a calculated manipulation. I am constantly pulling men close to me and then pushing them away in the most unkind ways.

Regretful, I try to apologize, but I am labeled as having too much drama. I try to explain that it isn’t drama, it’s trauma. I lay myself bare and tell men that while I may appear “needy” I just need a little extra reassurance, some more consideration, and clear communication.

I haven’t found anyone who gets it, who will take the extra time to follow through with doing what they say they are going to do. If plans change, I get it, but please just tell me; don’t text me two days later like nothing happened.

Maybe I am too much for most men. I blamed myself for so long for being defective, when in reality I was, and still am, trying to heal so much trauma. I am working so hard, but I wonder if anyone will see my value and what I have to offer behind the pain that’s always just below the surface.

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Absolute Pleasure
Absolute Pleasure
Midlife, widowed mom to one tween boy. I write about some of the crazy sh*t grief made me do after my husband died from cancer in 2021.