Being viewed online is not the same as being seen in person.

It seems as if our lives online have started to feel more real than anything present in front of us. In all honesty, I have lived so many hours in front of my screen. If you added them all up, it would probably be the lifespan of a small gerbil. It has become my instrument for working, expressing myself and connecting with others. When I tell older generations I’ve met friends, lovers, roommates on TikTok & Instagram, it’s quite a shock, but for me and many others, that is our normal. My Instagram stories can create a skewed narrative in my dating life and at work. People see parts of me and seem to fill in the rest. Some may say I’m too open. Too trusting. My Instagram shows moments of me looking hot and feeling free, being my authentic self, the ups and downs. And the same wandering eyes have been watching for years. I feel their presence from afar, like a flock of invisible cameras. Surveying.

Maybe this breaks the fourth wall between screen and soul, but I like showing. And I like watching you watch me show. Haha. I’m quite aware of this… why does it have to be an issue? If your whole self-worth depends on it, then yes… it becomes an issue.

But what do people think of me? It’s a question that runs through my head often… more than I would like to admit. Are they aware that I’m a real human with real thoughts and feelings, rather than just some hot sex symbol they get to watch online? Maybe that’s something to question within my own perception of myself.

In dating and the creative work scene, the question is how much to reveal online, and how much I let a potential romantic partner or coworker dictate how I act. Do I continue being the free bird I tend to be, or conceal a little and allow things to reveal themselves as time goes on… My mom always mentions never to reveal too much, but when you become an online persona, the distinction becomes unclear. And your instincts become fuzzy.

On dates recently, something keeps happening. When I answer questions about my life, the man across from me sometimes tries to finish my sentence. Like it’s a fill in the blank and he already knows the answer. There’s an occasional eye roll, a comment with an edge to it, always a bit of something that feels like jealousy. I’m sitting right there, telling him about myself, but somehow it feels like I’m interrupting a story he’s already written through his own digital eyes.

I’ve felt this in a work setting, too. My old boss once made a comment to a coworker along the lines of, “If she wants to post so much, she should just become an influencer full time.” If I’m doing my job and balancing work and “play” online, then what is the harm? The comment made me feel as though my online presence counted against me, regardless of the work I was doing. Could I be taken seriously as both? It seemed difficult for my boss to separate Dea online from Dea in person, as a coworker. Once again, I felt like a version of me had entered the room before I had.

My sister told me her boyfriend didn’t want to follow her on Instagram for the first two months of their relationship. He didn’t want to create a version of her that he wasn’t meeting in the real world as he was getting to know her. Which is kind of beautiful in a way, but so interesting that this has to be the route we take. Do we have to avoid someone’s online life to give ourselves a chance to get to know them? And she doesn’t even post that much in comparison to me.

Meeting people online has become natural to some of us, although it can feel so unnatural. This is where the skewed reality comes in. I grew up watching Black Mirror, and now parts of dating & life feel a little too familiar. I’m aware of how dystopian it is, but I also kind of like it. It is truly terrifying, but our current and future truth, and one that can also be considered exhilarating? When a woman becomes an “experience,” what happens if she doesn’t live up to what someone imagined? The pedestal I was once put on feels as if it’s been kicked from underneath me.

Yes, intimacy always gets brought into the question, but this isn’t about sex. It’s about how I’m perceived online compared to who I am in person. Some men can be a bit jealous of the attention a woman receives online. Sometimes, the assumption seems to be that things come freely, naturally and easily to her. Is there a form of misogyny in the story being written before she even gets to speak?

Yes, I am an attractive woman, and some things come more easily for me. That’s not something to deny. But to be dismissed, to be lusted after without being seen as a multifaceted, real individual, is upsetting. As if looking hot and feeling free online leaves no room for me to be serious about my work, or complicated in my private life. Why does the attention I receive make my unhappiness difficult to believe, or my effort easier to overlook? To be viewed, but not truly seen. That is where the fantasy comes in. The mind works wonders. All this time, I thought women were the ones creating these fantasies through rose-tinted glasses, but I think men have gotten more imaginative…