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Abstract

te. They had probably become deeper in the intervening years, hadn’t they?</p><h2 id="f220">Finding the right match</h2><p id="bc57">Actually, yes, they had become deeper. Or they had been in the first place and I should have trusted them. I tried <i>Match.com</i>, another well-known dating site, and put in my preferences. I sought a Christian. One who would understand that I was still on my journey of discovering, and coming to terms with my sexuality.</p><p id="dc99">I chatted with a few people. Mostly ones who didn’t have faith, but who were kind, caring, and making a positive difference through their work or volunteering. I chatted with Max* who volunteered with The Samaritans in the East of England. He introduced me to a bit more about gay culture in terms of films and understanding. I chatted to Alan, who works to ensure the civil service upholds ethical and legal standards. Alan and I met up in person for a walk and had a great time, but there was no romantic chemistry there. I chatted to Dave, a trainee doctor. He had ticked the option ‘Christian’, but his faith was as a Jehovah’s Witness, different from Christianity that would state the Nicene and Apostles Creeds, which is the faith I follow. I also met a Mormon, again different from Christianity as presented in the creeds. All of these wonderful people, but none of them are right for me.</p><p id="db1f"><b>It turns out there aren’t plenty of fish in the sea after all.</b></p><h2 id="4ec8">When I stopped looking</h2><p id="b510">I was coming to the end of my subscription and had decided to end it that evening. It had been a good experience, and I chatted with some interesting people. As I left work that day, I had one last look at the app and saw a message. It was from an American living in the UK for a year. It couldn’t go anywhere but thought I might make a new friend, so I responded and we messaged for a bit. I soon realized I was mistaken. He was British and had lived in the US for a year. The biggest plus - he was a Christian working out his sexuality, having developed faith in the evangelical church We exchanged numbers and spent that evening chatting on the phone. We did the same the following evening, and the next. We chatted most nights for the next couple of weeks.</p><h2 id="234b">My second date</h2><p id="df15">The problem was he lived in London. A full three-hour drive from where I live in the North of England. After two weeks, we arranged to meet in London. I would meet him at the train station and we would spend the day together. (There is a whole separate story here for me to tell about coming out to some family members the day before I met him, but that’s fo

Options

r another time.)</p><p id="343d">I was so nervous on the train to London. I brushed my hair, tried to wear slightly smart clothes (I do not fit into the fashionista gay stereotype), and brushed my teeth extra thoroughly. Even so, my insecurities ran around my head like an annoying Instagram reel, only with an inability to move on:</p><p id="de1b"><i>Is my nose too big? Is my skin too oily? Is my laugh too loud? Is my voice too nasal? Is my sense of humor too dry? Am I doing the right thing? What if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him?</i></p><p id="2f77">Such questions are, I suppose, inevitable before a first date with someone. And remember, this was only my second first date ever. And it would be for the whole day.</p><figure id="248a"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*aRTHQBWRoeKNHg7FW9dwuA.jpeg"><figcaption>Our first date was in London. Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/es/@bendavisual?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Benjamin Davies</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/s/photos/london?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="d6be">I stepped off the train, left the station, and saw him, round the corner. We smiled and hugged, before setting off towards a coffee place a 15-minute walk away. We stopped at an exchange store for computer games on the way and I bought an Assassin’s Creed game. I was feeling nervous, and it gave me something to hold. Once we arrived at the coffee place, he gave me a card and a gift. The gift was a cap. A snapback. They don’t suit me at all. Thoughtful, but I don’t have the confidence to pull it off (or should I say, put it on?). The card was written with a beautiful message. He gave me the opportunity to read it while he went to order drinks. I was touched. It was so thoughtful, kind, and full of emotion. I knew at that moment this one was special. I knew I loved him, and that he loved me.</p><h2 id="af99">A happy ending</h2><p id="4e33">Over the following months, we spent a lot of time traveling up and down the country to see one another. Then lockdown hit, almost a year later. Neither of us would have coped living on our own, so I drove down to London to pick him up. We learned to live together in lockdown and to love each other even better.</p><p id="a187">Early last year he moved up north (he was brought up not far away), and I asked him to marry me. He said yes.</p><p id="dcef"><b>It turns out there aren’t plenty of fish in the sea, but you only need to catch one.</b></p><p id="07e2">*names changed to keep anonymity</p></article></body>

Does online dating work?

One experience of online dating

When I first dipped my toe in the online dating ocean I learned some important lessons.

The very first time I dated I hadn’t come out to myself as gay, so when I signed up to eharmony I put in all of my information, starting with my sexuality. Of course, I was straight. What self-respecting follower of Jesus could admit to even the possibility of a whiff of gayness? Not me, that’s for sure. Not then, anyway. Now, I’m wiser.

I had chosen eharmony because it said it based compatibility on many deeper factors, not just interests and looks. I didn’t want to be shallow, so I took the plunge with the site that seemed deepest.

My first date

My fishing expedition was successful. No catfish involved. I soon landed myself a date. We met in Birmingham at a park on a cold and showery April lunchtime. The person I met was beautiful, kind, caring, and female. There was no chemistry, just inane chatter and uncomfortable silences which I tried to fill with optimistic observations about the flowers trying to brave the cold. I could well imagine their shivers as I wondered how to keep the conversation flowing. Inevitably, despite my futile hope, I received a text when I arrived home thanking me for meeting and stating gently but firmly that we wouldn’t meet again.

After that experience, it took me a while to bravely dip my toe in the water again. Partly because it had been so unsuccessful, but mostly because coming out to myself and others took me a few years. When I eventually came to terms with my sexuality, and with the idea of exploring a relationship (that part is almost more difficult in the evangelical Christian world) I revisited eharmony. It had been a few years, but it remembered my email address and welcomed me back. It also remembered my ‘straightness’. I chuckled to myself and went to my account settings to amend it. There was no option to do so. Oh dear.

I scratched my head and had a think. I assumed the Christian dating sites wouldn’t allow a gay option, so I decided I would use another well-known site. They had probably become deeper in the intervening years, hadn’t they?

Finding the right match

Actually, yes, they had become deeper. Or they had been in the first place and I should have trusted them. I tried Match.com, another well-known dating site, and put in my preferences. I sought a Christian. One who would understand that I was still on my journey of discovering, and coming to terms with my sexuality.

I chatted with a few people. Mostly ones who didn’t have faith, but who were kind, caring, and making a positive difference through their work or volunteering. I chatted with Max* who volunteered with The Samaritans in the East of England. He introduced me to a bit more about gay culture in terms of films and understanding. I chatted to Alan, who works to ensure the civil service upholds ethical and legal standards. Alan and I met up in person for a walk and had a great time, but there was no romantic chemistry there. I chatted to Dave, a trainee doctor. He had ticked the option ‘Christian’, but his faith was as a Jehovah’s Witness, different from Christianity that would state the Nicene and Apostles Creeds, which is the faith I follow. I also met a Mormon, again different from Christianity as presented in the creeds. All of these wonderful people, but none of them are right for me.

It turns out there aren’t plenty of fish in the sea after all.

When I stopped looking

I was coming to the end of my subscription and had decided to end it that evening. It had been a good experience, and I chatted with some interesting people. As I left work that day, I had one last look at the app and saw a message. It was from an American living in the UK for a year. It couldn’t go anywhere but thought I might make a new friend, so I responded and we messaged for a bit. I soon realized I was mistaken. He was British and had lived in the US for a year. The biggest plus - he was a Christian working out his sexuality, having developed faith in the evangelical church We exchanged numbers and spent that evening chatting on the phone. We did the same the following evening, and the next. We chatted most nights for the next couple of weeks.

My second date

The problem was he lived in London. A full three-hour drive from where I live in the North of England. After two weeks, we arranged to meet in London. I would meet him at the train station and we would spend the day together. (There is a whole separate story here for me to tell about coming out to some family members the day before I met him, but that’s for another time.)

I was so nervous on the train to London. I brushed my hair, tried to wear slightly smart clothes (I do not fit into the fashionista gay stereotype), and brushed my teeth extra thoroughly. Even so, my insecurities ran around my head like an annoying Instagram reel, only with an inability to move on:

Is my nose too big? Is my skin too oily? Is my laugh too loud? Is my voice too nasal? Is my sense of humor too dry? Am I doing the right thing? What if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him?

Such questions are, I suppose, inevitable before a first date with someone. And remember, this was only my second first date ever. And it would be for the whole day.

Our first date was in London. Photo by Benjamin Davies on Unsplash

I stepped off the train, left the station, and saw him, round the corner. We smiled and hugged, before setting off towards a coffee place a 15-minute walk away. We stopped at an exchange store for computer games on the way and I bought an Assassin’s Creed game. I was feeling nervous, and it gave me something to hold. Once we arrived at the coffee place, he gave me a card and a gift. The gift was a cap. A snapback. They don’t suit me at all. Thoughtful, but I don’t have the confidence to pull it off (or should I say, put it on?). The card was written with a beautiful message. He gave me the opportunity to read it while he went to order drinks. I was touched. It was so thoughtful, kind, and full of emotion. I knew at that moment this one was special. I knew I loved him, and that he loved me.

A happy ending

Over the following months, we spent a lot of time traveling up and down the country to see one another. Then lockdown hit, almost a year later. Neither of us would have coped living on our own, so I drove down to London to pick him up. We learned to live together in lockdown and to love each other even better.

Early last year he moved up north (he was brought up not far away), and I asked him to marry me. He said yes.

It turns out there aren’t plenty of fish in the sea, but you only need to catch one.

*names changed to keep anonymity