Do All the Men Suck?

Finding the line between caution and cynicism.

As some of you may have noticed, I’ve been quiet here for a while.

My disappearance hasn’t been intentional. After things went south with the energy healer, I fell into a bit of a dating funk. Not a dramatic one; more like a gray, foggy, “why-bother” kind of funk. I was stuck in a cycle of left swipes and — in the rare event of a match — stalled conversations.

I craved and hoped for connection, and also felt it was impossible. I’d had so many frustrating dates, and everything I read made me more despondent. In the The New York Times, Jean Garnett wrote of being surrounded by “studiously irreproachable male helplessness.” In The Cut, I read about “reams of anecdotal and statistical evidence that men are less mature, less educated, and less emotionally available than their female counterparts.” Vogue even went so far as to ask, “Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now?”

Hoping it would help me find better matches, I joined the Facebook group of the Burned Haystack Dating Method, created by applied rhetoric scholar Jennie Young. The method teaches women to recognize red flags in the rhetorical patterns men use on dating apps that might indicate that the men are, for lack of a better phrase, total assholes. The idea with this approach is to rule bad men out as quickly as possible based on their language, rather than to give them the benefit of the doubt and see what plays out.

Women in this group regularly post anonymized screenshots of men’s dating profiles and discuss why certain phrases are indicative of misogyny or boundary issues. I find the method fascinating and can see why it is useful, but it also seems like literally anything a guy says can be interpreted as a red flag. In one thread I stumbled across, women were arguing that if men describe themselves as kind, you should immediately block them, because truly kind people never describe themselves that way.

I found myself starting to believe that all men must be terrible. Some were probably good at hiding it at first, while others were only bad in certain contexts — but their true colors would show eventually. And if that was the case, what was the point? Should I follow in the footsteps of economist Corinne Low and only date women? Was becoming a lesbian the only way?

Then, a little over five weeks ago, as I was mindlessly scrolling through Tinder with low expectations (but yes — I’d changed my settings to consider women, too), I was presented with a man who actually made me gasp. He was beautiful. Intense brown eyes with expressive, slightly-furrowed eyebrows that reminded me of George Clooney’s signature quizzical gaze — the look of a man who’s half-amused, half-bewildered by the world and also, probably, very good in bed.

Seeing him both lit my loins on fire and made me feel even more cynical. He had to be a jerk, right? The gorgeous guys can get away with anything. Women inevitably come crawling back. When you look like that, there is no incentive to be good.

But oh, dear god, he was sexy. I sent screenshots of him to my friends. We all have wildly different types — it’s almost a joke at this point. We have literally never, not once, all thought the same man was good-looking.

They all thought he was hot.

On the chat, this guy seemed curious, respectful, thoughtful. But a shortcoming revealed itself soon enough: He had a time-consuming job, which, he said, had become extra intense as of late due to a demanding client and recent company layoffs. We talked about meeting up, but scheduling proved difficult. We talked about STI testing — which I did immediately, fantasizing about him in the urgent care waiting room — and he, instead, struggled to find the time.

I immediately perceived his busyness as sign of disinterest, if not a damning character flaw. I conferred with some girlfriends and they agreed: It wasn’t OK that he was this unavailable. Either I wasn’t enough of a priority to him, or he was a total mess — and either way, those were giant red flags.

One day, I brought all of this to my therapist. I had lost faith in men, I told her. Then I had stumbled across this beautiful man, and …. well, all signs were pointing to him being bad news, too. Should I just give up?

She jumped on me so fast. “You shouldn’t make judgments about a person’s character or interest based on such limited information,” she said. “If he’s as stressed out and over-worked as he says he is, then this is all perfectly reasonable. It really may be difficult for him to find the time right now.”

I stared at her in disbelief. I trusted my therapist, sometimes even more than I trusted myself. She was smart and always called me on my shit. The story I had been telling myself started cracking. My god, what if she was right?

I realized then that my interpretation of the situation had been strongly driven by my assumptions. I had come to believe that all guys sucked, and although this one seemed lovely in many ways, the data points that had become salient in my mind were the ones that confirmed my belief.

This is the seductive trap of confirmation bias: It makes us feel safe, even righteous, because we already know how the story ends. But, I realized, it also blocks us from seeing nuance and possibility. It convinces us that our pessimism is realism, that our caution is wisdom — when in fact, it’s often just fear wearing intellectual armor.

My snap judgment about this guy was certainly understandable. It just wasn’t warranted or fair. And yes, I know he might still turn out to be a jerk, or even just a bad match. But if I really want connection, I think I need to open not just my heart, but also my mind. There’s a fine line between self-protection and prejudice, and I’d crossed it by mistake.

Don’t get me wrong: I still think many guys are not okay. Women should be on the lookout for signs of bad intentions or character. But it’s easy to take a good idea too far — to jump on a cultural bandwagon and let dogmatism and cynicism reign. When we stop believing people can surprise us, we stop being surprised — and that’s when life, and love, can get very dull indeed.

In the end, this beautiful man did get tested. We did end up finding time to meet. I did end up luring him to my bed and having the most erotic night I’ve had in my life. The moment I stopped guarding myself against disappointment, pleasure blew right through the door.

The Energy Healer Lost His Spark

I Broke The Dating "Rules"

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