Mysterious Match.com

I got an e-mail from Match the other day. The subject line was “He noticed you!” I was instructed to log in to find out who “he” was.

I canceled my subscription to Match months ago. If my profile has been deleted, as Match claimed it would be, how was “he” or anybody able to notice me?

Match has been accused in the past of displaying profiles of people who were no longer members in order to falsely bolster its membership numbers.

Did they leave my profile up? Wouldn’t put it past them.

Read more here about consumer complaints against Match.com

I’m not okay, I promise.

So I haven’t blogged lately.

In the immediate aftermath of what happened to me, I found that blogging was therapeutic. I felt more or less compelled to write about it and share the story. After a while I stopped feeling that way–it began to feel like I was wallowing in it, thinking too much, and I decided that was probably unhealthy. So I decided to take a short break, which has turned out to be longer than anticipated.

I was getting on with life (I told myself). Moving on. In a way, every moment I spent thinking about my experience was another victory for my scammer. I couldn’t have that; he’d won far too much already. So I mustered up some self-discipline and stopped thinking.

I’d like to be able to report that that worked, but it didn’t. I’m still not myself. Sure, I’m surviving: I can more or less tackle the activities of daily living. I go to work, feed the cats, do my laundry, put gas in my car; on that level, I’m okay.

But no, overall I am most definitely not okay. The other day I came across a picture. I thought I’d deleted all the scammer’s pictures from my various electronic devices, but I missed one, and suddenly there he was–the guy I thought loved me and couldn’t wait to meet me, the face I imagined while I chatted with my scammer and talked to him on the phone. Just one look at that photo, and I was right back where I was three months ago: devastated.

I was operating on the premise that since the relationship wasn’t real, a grieving process wasn’t necessary. Turns out I was wrong about that, and grief, true to form, has popped up again. Grief doesn’t go away; it just waits till you’re ready for the next step in the process. So yeah: I just realized I’m grieving. Yay.

I guess there’s another reason I haven’t blogged or talked about this lately: embarrassment. Again, since it wasn’t real, I should just bounce back, right? It’s not like I actually lost a boyfriend. It’s not like anything real happened… Get over it already, I’ve been telling myself.

The trouble is that I can’t seem to do that. The trouble is, as much as I’ve wanted to minimize it, this was huge. The truth is that I’m grieving a loss, and I’m nowhere near finished with it.

I guess it’s actually good news that I’m depressed, because as the experts say, depression is the fourth of the five stages of grief–next stop, acceptance.

I can hardly wait.

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