Dated

30 Days in Istanbul: Day 6

Off the road where I live in Besiktas is a delicious serpentine of back alleys and narrow streets lined with even more bars and restaurants and coffee shops.

There are apartment buildings too, some older and shabbier, others stately and sparkling. It seems to be a thing here to load potted plants into corners and against window bars, understandable in a city with so little green space.

The street cats are next level. I’m sure they have a back room in one of the restaurants where they eat kebabs, smoke cigars, decide which neighbourhood belongs to whom, and occasionally dispose of certain individuals who are getting in the way. 

Getting lost in these little streets has become one of my favourite things to do. The bars, restaurants and cafes are packed from 11am onwards, every day, without exception, as long as it’s not raining. But some nights, passing hundreds of black-clad Istanbullu millennials and GenZ’s smoking and drinking and falling out of doorways makes me feel a little lonely. I don’t want to go back to that age (or that level of alcohol consumption). But covid + suburban life + moving to a new country has taken things far too far in the other direction. It’s made me nostalgic for the times of having more friends to go out with than I could count; when meeting a new soulmate was a daily occurrence; when staying home was the exception to the rule.

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I deleted all dating apps from my phone 3 months ago. There are many reasons for this, but mostly, they were making me hate the world. Nothing highlights how broken and socially avoidant our culture has become like a dating app does. They (in my opinion) are the most dysfunctional way to connect with other humans ever made. They amplify misogyny to unimaginable levels. And they are created to be highly addictive. To borrow from a Rose family quote, I don’t love that journey for me.

I was so validated to find Nancy Jo Sales, who wrote an entire book on this topic. She now refuses to use dating apps, and this was the direction I was leaning in, too. But walking home last night, gazing at all the friends having the times of their lives, it occurred to me that the entire reason I was able to come to Istanbul for a month without breaking the bank (rentals and Airbnb prices are soaring here with inflation) is: a dating app.

I met Mehmet on Bumble. Mehmet had a farm in Bodrum where I went olive picking, which is where I met Charles, who owns the apartment I’m staying in now. (At the olive farm I also, notably, met Jimi.) I met Askin on Bumble, and we’ve become good friends, and Askin, too, is giving me his apartment to stay in next week. Somehow, a dating app has helped me build a network of humans who have been hospitable, helpful and kind.

Olive picking at the farm - with Jimi!

But god, it felt nice to not have dating or men on my mind for 3 months. 

But also, I could really stand to make more friends. 

And also, even though I am very happily single, I am human, and have human desires. 

I took out my phone after dinner last night. I opened the App store, and stared at the Bumble icon. I closed it and put it away. I’m not ready. Not yet. Opening up that can of worms scares me, but some of that fear is for unhealthy reasons, like not wanting to put myself out there again. 

So it might be time to conquer that one.

Soon.