Self-disclosure

Hallmark movies are my thing. While I'm not ashamed to admit it, I am slightly embarrassed. I've taken great care to create a certain facade--one in which I appear to be practically stoic, pragmatic and unemotional--but I'm actually quite the opposite. I'm the overly sentimental, daydreamy type. You could even say I'm a borderline romantic, considering my love of sappy Hallmark movies (especially around the Holidays) and affinity for eighteenth and nineteenth literature. I identify with the protagonists in many, if not all, of Austen's work. The women are strong, emotionally and mentally, and confident about there abilities and skills, rather than their superficial aesthetics. Yet, interestingly, the protagonists seem to admire and fall in love with handsome men whom are more attractive aesthetically than the women themselves. Maybe it's the inevitability of the plot that attracts me; the fact that a union between protagonist and the handsome and accomplished, not to mention morally sound, man is destiny. Is it the fact that such a dashing man could overlook superficialiries and love and admire a woman for more than just her appearance? Nowadays, men and women put much emphasis on looks, less on personality and values, or so it seems. This is besides the point. I identify with these female character, and I deeply desire an outcome much like theirs, despite the fact (I'm capable of acknowledging) I'm not the same homely, plain type aesthetically. However, I am sentimental and somewhat of a mystic underneath my, occasionally, icy exterior. I guess I'm just that emotional, secretly sensitive, writerly type. Why though do I find it distasteful and difficult to admit my preoccupation with these holiday movies? Admitting it is like being mauled by a bear with your innards spilling out. Actually, I described a horrific scene, when I'm just expressing the idea of vulnerability. It's difficult to be vulnerable. Just yesterday I experienced vulnerability, needing to self disclose personal information on a coffee date. No matter how often and simple it is to talk about oneself, it's somewhat scary to divulge information. Fear of rejection? Or fear of disapproval? Fear of over sharing; tmi, colloquially speaking? Maybe, like many things, the answer is a convoluted mixture of nonsensical things that are really quite simple.

Conversations

So, I've been online dating for almost two years now and I'm learning new things about these specimens, the ones we call men, on a daily basis. Most, if not all, of my observations are somewhat banal, but nevertheless, useful. I read, as I am sure many women do too, on men's profiles that they seek a companion or person or woman with whom they would like to be able to have and sustain (intellectual and/or philosophical) conversations. That men wish to be able to have thoughtful and meaningful discussions may sound promising, but in reality, the men requesting such events are unable to begin or maintain such a conversation. Men aren't good conversationalists. True, we know this and we've known this to be fact for forever. Men don't want to share their feelings and they sure aren't going to be vulnerable and put themselves out there, which oddly enough, that is what the woman does and is expected to do in a sense. With that said, one would think online dating would be a perfect platform for all men, especially the ones that are fearful or anxious about starting up a conversation with women. Unfortunately, this doesn't seem to be the case. All too often I am messaged stupid lines of text that require zero thought. I've also come to recognize a copy-paste message among other effortless attempts to engage me in conversation, such as the ubiquitous one liner, "hey." Men who don't ask questions seem disinterested and uninterested, which leads me to believe my role as the woman seems to be ego-booster or immediate cure-for-boredom. Thoughts?