A girl meets me on Tinder. Or rather, she “meets” me.
She’s directed to this blog, and she reads about me. Or rather, she reads what I’ve written. She wonders: “Is this real? Is this guy who he says he is? Is he – the Tinder guy – even the same guy as the guy who writes the blog?” How is she to know? And, if I am that guy, the guy who writes the blog, what’s the relationship between that guy and the guy with whom she interacts, whom she might hope to meet?
Those are impossible questions – much more complicated, and difficult, than the confounding one I get more often – “How can I know who you are if you won’t show me your picture?” That question feels to me in some ways dispositive: if it’s really a deal-breaker, then we’re probably not a great match. Not because chemistry doesn’t matter, not because I’m not hot. But because, in my experience, some of the hottest people I’ve met I’ve had zero chemistry with, and I’ve found a number of women whose photos I might not have resonated with enormously hot, once we met. And, because what I have to offer primarily is a package – a package of personality, thinking, instruction, request, domination, and appreciation. And that’s what’s going to draw a woman to me, more than my looks. (Even if she finds my looks very compelling, which wouldn’t be unprecedented.)
So anyway: the answer to the Tinder woman worried about the first question – is it me? Am I the guy who writes the blog? The answer to that question is…. Yes.