It’s getting to crunch time.
The plan is to hand off all forty-four pieces for my exhibit—the finished and unfinished paintings plus the digital mockups—to my painting mentor at the end of the month so that he can prepare the work for final assembly. It was thus particularly satisfying this past week to lockdown half of the work in the exhibit timeline with the completion of the digital mockup for “That Guy I’m Not Dating.”
When folks ask how I met my husband, I’ll usually respond with “through the magic of the Internet”, which is my somewhat cheeky way of saying, “on a dating app.”
Many folks meet their partners (or lovers) on dating apps today, however, when Stefan and I first met in September 2014, it was a bit less typical. People still questioned the long-term viability of such online matches and the dating culture was already in the midst of a seismic shift thanks to the introduction of Tinder in 2012. I still remember after-work conversations with colleagues around the etiquette of “swiping” and if Tinder was good for anything beyond feeding the growing hook-up culture.
Rest assured, Stefan and I did not meet on Tinder.
While I had dipped my toe into several different dating apps over the years, I suspected as a person in a wheelchair I would be at a serious disadvantage on an app like Tinder that encourages an instant “yay” or “nay” with a swipe on a photo alone.
This is why Stefan and I found each other through the much older and more text-oriented dating site, okCupid.
I can’t speak to what the site is like today, but its main claim to fame ten years ago was suggesting matches based on a person’s responses to questions submitted by other users on the site. These could be incredibly broad and generic like “Are you interested in having children?” or extremely specific like “What do you think of people who have an entire room dedicated to their Lego collection?”
The idea was that you respond yourself and then also record how you hope your potential match will respond. The more of okCupid’s questions you answered, the better it was supposed to be at helping you find someone who was a match to your interests and values. Like other dating sites, there was also an opportunity to post photos and introduce yourself through a write-up, but there was something about the questionnaire approach that appealed to me. This focus on shared values and an approach to matchmaking that felt vaguely scientific made me believe that even as an insecure woman with a disability, I at least had a fighting chance.
Unfortunately, my luck with okCupid was pretty dismal regardless. I’d pop on every few years, update my photos, answer more questions and then quickly give up again. The people who reached out to me tended to be creepy and the icebreaker messages I sent went largely unanswered.
That summer in 2014 was simply my latest go-round in the world of online dating. I was feeling a bit more motivated in the endeavour at the time having read several (supposedly) empowering dating self-help books like “He’s Just Not That Into You” and “If I’m So Wonderful, Why am I Still Single?”
If you’re a fan of the Netflix comedy-drama, “Bridgerton”, I was 100% Season 3 Penelope that summer. I was tired of being a wallflower and determined to find love… or at least go on one coffee date. I figured if I could have that sliver of a romantic experience, then I’d be satisfied and live out the rest of my life single and in peace.
Instead, I met Stefan.
After only a few messages exchanged through okCupid, he quickly asked if I would be interested in meeting him in person.
“Coffee? Tea? Bubble tea?”
I immediately agreed.
Then, an even more unexpected thing happened. We didn’t have that lightning strike falling-in-love moment. We had that first coffee shop meeting, which was pleasant enough that we agreed to meet again… and again… and again.
Even though we’d met through a dating site, we decided early on that we would just be friends and see where that went. It was a friendship that deepened quickly and we got together almost weekly for dinners out, trips to the movies or just hanging out. The digital mockup references our second meeting in which we decided to walk my dog, Lola, together through a wooded park near my apartment. I vividly remember that afternoon as one where I started to soften the more reserved and introverted side of my nature as I realized Stefan was someone I simply wanted to connect with—romantically or otherwise.
These platonic get-togethers went on for months and I got rather ribbed about it at work. Stefan became affectionately known among my friends there as “that guy I’m not dating”.
If the background on the digital mockup looks familiar, it is because it is from an earlier painting called “A Walk in the Park”. I completed the piece as a prototype during the research and development phase of the exhibit. I was still figuring out my new Kroma transparent paints at the time and hadn’t wanted the additional pressure of working on a painting for the exhibit that was such a key moment in our story together.
In a strange parallel, that is exactly what Stefan and I were doing back in 2014 as well. By allowing ourselves to get to know each other as friends first over quite a long period by today’s online dating standards, we didn’t end up in the typical dating pressure cooker. As with my painting experiments, it gave us time to gradually develop our style together and, almost ten years later, I am exceedingly grateful for it.
If you’d like to see this piece and more in person, come to see “The Extraordinary, Ordinary Nature of Interabled Love” between July 30th and August 24th at cSPACE Marda Loop in Calgary. Also, don’t forget to RSVP for free for the August 1st opening reception.