Author: Matthew Palmieri

Finding myself single again for the first time in a number of years, I am inevitably on a number of dating apps. Meeting people in ‘real life’ at social events, through work, or other outlets has often proved to be difficult for me. I just don’t have the gumption to walk up to people. For better or worse, the apps have been my best shot at landing in a relationship.

Through trial and error, I’ve learned there are timelines, proper conversation starters, methods for how you talk about your past—just things that can make my head spin.

I’ve always found that by disclosing my truths, and keeping firm to my intuition, the ones that are meant for me tend to stick around.

And yet now that the bar has been raised in terms of what I’m looking for, the process has been difficult.

I am not one of those who prefers being single.

Having experienced the pursuit, the rejection, and the puttering date that doesn’t quite lead to anything, I’ve learned a delicate balance that comes with being a male on these apps. These are some of the general questions I’ve found myself asking, while swiping ad nauseum:

Do I disclose my illness? If so, when?

Granted, there are a lot of people, especially those who suffer from bipolar illness, that actually prefer being alone, avoiding the pitfalls of what they see as a doomed relationship, clouded by the inevitable ups and downs of our experience.

When I first started swiping, I had no idea what I was doing. I once went on a date and towards the end, to fill the awkward silence I just blurted out that I was bipolar.

My date then said, ‘Oh that’s ok. They have meds for that’. It felt gracious but I had to hold back from saying, ‘If it were only that easy!’

Figuring out the right time frame has been a constant puzzle. Recently I mentioned my illness on the 3rd date. It was one of those ‘ok screw it’ moments. The cool thing was after I kind of did an awkward trauma dump she said, ‘Oh well I have it too. I’m a rapid cycler.’

Sometimes being open doesn’t backfire. It taught me that it’s ok to open up, even if it was by accident or unplanned.

Is my job good enough?

Having experienced really intense manic and depressive episodes (I’m bipolar 1), work has been quite a hurdle.

I’ve always had what I consider to be a solid work ethic. So when I’ve made and saved money in the past, I inevitably spent it while manic.

So if I had a kind of blow up at work, I’ve rarely had savings to cushion the blow. Consequently, taking specific jobs that don’t quite line up with what I truly feel speaks to me has been the result.

About 3 years ago, once I became stable I was able to stick to a holistic treatment plan that has put me in a much better financial position. However, I’m not doing what I want to do.

Letting go of my current job feels out of the question, but when I talk about my passions online, they aren’t things I get paid for.

Leaning into those passions has been crucial, but being vulnerable about my day job remains a sticking point. Not from a financial standpoint, but from a ‘Can I provide a lifestyle for this person that matches what they are looking for?’

How about where I live?

Having recovered from a marriage that didn’t work out, I’ve found myself staying with family. This is for a number of reasons. Primarily I need help with my pets. Having someone there at home makes it much easier for me to feel ok being at work full time.

Explaining this while dating has required some delicate maneuvering.

It’s also allowed me to save quite a bit of money, which has been huge for me and managing my illness.

As these things seem to make sense, I have an inclination to want to present myself as a ‘complete package’ to someone. Resisting that urge is difficult, and sometimes I worry I come across as hiding something. When in actuality I’m happy to talk about these things, just unsure how it will land with someone.

Questioning just how close I can get to someone before starting to back pedal

These questions, and quite a few more, have led me to believe that sharing who I am, basically to strangers, has made me question just how close I can get to someone before starting to back pedal.

I’m not sure if there is something unique in being a male on a dating app or in a long-term relationship for that matter. I do know, however, that there is a whole online genre of dating tips, dos and don’ts, and just so much content about how to bring someone towards you and how to prevent them from retreating.

There’s the ‘anxious avoidant’—someone who can pull the ripcord as soon as things get serious. Having had that happen to me, it’s made me even more fearful about getting close.

Recently I was dating someone I was really falling for. Between dates she asked me why I only text when I’m making plans. That was quite a curveball. Here I am paranoid about disclosing too much, while this person wanted me to open up more.

Lesson learned.

But while navigating those boundaries in conversation can feel like a tightrope walk, I’ve found a loophole: I have a drive to disclose who I am without hesitation through my writing. Maybe that’s what I need subconsciously to unload the burdens on my heart.

Being a work in progress and seeing how far I’ve come has been pretty cool, regardless of the outcome.