I'm Special by Ryan O'Connell

Author:Ryan O'Connell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Finding Love (and Losing It) in a Sea of “Likes”

IF BEING GAY GAVE me my first inkling that I wasn’t special, then dating made me feel like a basic bitch without a prayer. Case in point: Recently a boy I had feelings for wrote me a handwritten letter. It was four pages long, written on crisp white paper that crinkled like dead leaves. I read every line hoping it’d contain some wild declaration of love, but instead I got the opposite. At the end of the third page, he wrote, “I’m sorry that I can’t love you.”

Deep down I already knew this. We had spent the last few months hanging out together, and every time I would leave him, I’d have a feeling this was going to end in tears. I’m not a clairvoyant. I just know these kinds of things. We all do. People owe us nothing: they can blow through our lives, make us feel hopeful and loved, and then disappear with no explanation or apology. This is just the way it is now. There are so many new and exciting ways to get rejected: getting swiped to the left on Tinder, unfriended on Facebook, and ignored on OkCupid. Are we unlovable? No, but we place all our self-worth in getting a text back from our crush, and if it doesn’t happen, we automatically assume we’re going to die alone.

To counteract this constant fear of rejection, I do what everybody else does: I look for validation by outsourcing my self-esteem to the Internet and various apps. I take selfies until I land on a picture where I look semi-attractive. Then I apply a filter, which will graciously take my looks from a five or six to an eight. By posting the selfie, I ask the world, “Am I attractive? Could you understand if someone made the decision to love me?” I watch with bated breath as the “likes” pile up like little ants giving me their tacit approval. But a like isn’t enough for me anymore. I need someone to type, “Looking good!” or “Wow, Mr. Handsome!” to feel fully satisfied.

After posting the selfie, I’ll think of something amusing to tweet. Instagram selfies are meant to make you feel pretty, whereas Twitter is designed to validate your intelligence. That’s why you follow hot models on Instagram and dowdy comedians on Twitter. It’s a necessary separation of brain and brawn. After spending minutes crafting something brilliant, I’ll send it out into the universe like a proud parent watching their child graduate. Seeing it get retweeted hits me with a burst of joy that leaves as quickly as it came.

As I’m going to bed, I’ll make the final stop in my Validation Tour by going on gay sex apps like Grindr, SCRUFF, and GROWLr—which is like Grindr but for hairy chubby people. On Grindr and SCRUFF, I’m completely invisible, drowned out by a sea of six-packs and chiseled physiques, but on GROWLr I’m practically Ryan fucking Gosling. My body type

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