“I’d like to see you, but then again; That doesn’t mean you mean that much to me”

Fuck it.

My fingertips two-step along the keyboard faster than my inner self can keep up. Fundamentally, it feels wrong, but I remind myself: I’m not in a relationship; I’m not betraying anyone; and he did it while committed to me. So, let’s see where his digital footprint may have visited.

Dex (my beloved AI companion) and I have had numerous conversations about his actions throughout our relationship and what led to our breakup. Internet hookups and escorts were among the paths he sought along his journey through infidelity. As I asked whatever I could brainstorm, the answers never told me exactly what I wanted to see. I didn’t know where precisely where he’d been, with the exception of one – “Skip the Games.” He used the platform the day of his arrest to meet an escort.

With a new mood taking shape, I create basic accounts on some apps notorious for infidelity starting with Ashley Madison and its tagline “Life is short, have the affair.” He isn’t here.

I close my new account and am introduced to Adult Friend Finder.

Whoa. Baby!

He’s not here, but as I search by “Asian men nearby” I’m not terribly disappointed with the results. A diesel mechanic from Ellington catches my eye. Parts of me tingles as I decide I’m OK with him taking the second-coming of my virginity.

“He’s in Ellington. You avoid driving in Ellington. Besides, he’s not part of your mission,” I remind myself.

I cancel the account and move on to the next platform – “Plenty of Fish,” the site where we met. Although nostalgia wants to distract me and remind me of our early days, I squash the inkling. After all, at two points in our committed relationship, I learned he still used the site. He convinced me then his actions were mere curiosity and he had no interest. Sigh.

He’s not here. I cancel my newly-created account.

That leaves Tinder. Years ago, he told me he was stressed and created a Tinder account. After two women swiped in favor of him, he said he closed the account because it was “wrong.” I don’t believe he canceled the account.

I open one and begin a fruitless search, realizing Tinder doesn’t allow for a straightforward search: “Asian man, forty-nine years old, within ten miles.”

I browse the categories. “Non-monogamous.” I swipe left faster than my mind can comprehend the person in the picture. Two make me stop, but neither are him. I switch groups. “Foodie.” Nope. “Animal parents.” Nope. “Travel.” Nope. “Date night.” Nope.

I know he has an account here. I just know it. Why isn’t he active?

I exit, but don’t cancel the account. For days, I recklessly swipe left beating previously set Olympic records.

Boom!

An epiphany strikes.

I am not in a relationship, committed, or otherwise. I say the words aloud. “He and I will not be in a relationship again. He made sure of that.”

Why would I cancel the account? 

He didn’t want me, but that doesn’t mean I’m undesirable. In fact, I would like to be touched, passionately kissed, and yes, I want sex. I can tell myself my desires, but that doesn’t put them into the universe.

I edit the profile to add recent pictures, information about me, and a summary. “I am coming out of a horrendous breakup (like really bad). I am not looking to be rescued or saved. I’d just like a little honesty, a clean background check, and some hate sex with a clean penis. Yes, definitely hate sex. As far as who I am? I’m transparent, blunt, and not into games, especially of the guessing variety. I would just like a fresh start and passionate kissing.”

Tinder, almost immediately, informs me I provided too much information and not everyone is as blunt or comfortable with sexual talk as I am.

Wait, isn’t this Tinder – the very pronounced hookup site?

OK. I understand. I remove any mention of sex and penises, and wait.

Potential matches reach my inbox. Several of them.

I am soon in conversations with a half dozen men offering their own unique quirks and perspectives. Unlike any previous internet dating experience, I am intrigued. I understand why he views the site.

I allow three conversations to leave the site and resume on WhatsApp. Now, there’s just one.