If I told you that I changed my name online you would probably call me a catfish. Catfisher? The point is, you would see me as someone unworthy of your trust. But what’s in a name? Who cares if my name online is Isabel or Erin or Erica? It’s all a careful presentation of the self. I might tell you a couple of lies: “Oh I LOVE that band” or “I hate beets” (This is a real lie I have told) but I’ll also sprinkle in some carefully cultivated truths. I love to dance. I used to be a cheerleader. I’ll eat anything. Is this any different than my offline presentation? Part of me thinks that my initial online interactions are more true to myself, or the self I am revealing today (because there are multiple), than my first date self-presentation IRL.
I don’t do online dating through Match.com. I don’t use Bumble or Twitter. You won’t be able to find my profile online. And that’s the way that I want it. At this point, I’m not looking to find a relationship online. And I’m certainly not looking to forever archive the tiny speck of myself that I’m sharing today. People ask me why I don’t have my full name on my social media accounts. The artistic and angsty part of me wants to respond with a careful analysis of the fragments of self presented on each site. That is definitely part of it. Another part is that I read, in a guide to working online, that workers should remove any associations of photos with their full names online. Why? Because if a customer finds your full name, they have access to you forever. They can make unlimited accounts and follow you over and over again. I’ve already seen this happening with strangers. For evidence, go look through the unsolicited photos in my Instagram direct message inbox.
I’m not looking for serious relationships right now. If I was, I might use Tinder. It seems the most game-like, full of swiping, giggling, texting your friends to ask about potential matches. How flattering is it to get SUPER-liked? I have friends who have used Tinder. I know queers who have found THE ONE (for now) on Tinder. But still…does my last name have to be one it? Lately, I’ve been thinking about adding my mom’s last name into my name. Would that save me from my online past? Applying for jobs, resting safe that when they google me they’ll only see me starting at age twenty.
I don’t like the idea of being swiped myself. I don’t like the idea of selecting swipeable photos. I have a queer friend who never gets matched with women. She says her profile looks too heterosexual. Do I post the photos of me on my femme days? Do I try to find an old photo in a dress to show that I’m “date” material? Do I even want to date guys? Or do I go full EnBi-Haley, dressed, as my friends like to say, like a nerd? These questions are important because they hint at the necessity of figuring out how to brand yourself online. Tinder certainly doesn’t provide the opportunity to portray yourself expansively. The photos you post on your profile, do they portray you in your complications and nuanced, does each photo reveal another facet? Or are they instead the bits of blue left by Bower Birds, beautiful selections meant only to attract?