If a prospect posts a selfie of himself standing in front of a metal bunk bed surrounded by steel walls and a roommate wearing a matching khaki jumper, swipe left. If, over drinks, an endodontist suggests bartering “services” in order to fix your chipped lower cuspid—or a potential suitor asks if “princess can be trained”—run.

Yes, these things have really happened to me over many years of online dating. Of course, not everyone flies their red flags loud and proud. I’ve mastered the art of omission myself (nobody needs to know I travel with a stuffed animal; stop judging). But if one overlooks my long monkey toes and penchant for heavy drinking, I’m really quite the catch.

Online dating has forced me to take a look at myself and what I have to offer, and that’s a good thing. There is nothing more self-revealing than putting yourself out there in the virtual world of online dating. Well, perhaps with the exception of this: writing about it.

I’ve embarked on this column at the suggestion of a Facebook friend who found endless entertainment while reading my shameless and unapologetically revealing descriptions of my dating experiences. Ironically, the ability I have to keep my flaws hidden while constructing a dating profile is nowhere to be found when it comes to talking about the dating process. Romantic relationships or the prospects thereof are exciting, after all.

Dating makes us feel happy, desirable and hopeful. Conversely, it makes us feel alone, flawed and inferior—and when the latter rears its ugly head, it becomes difficult to maintain that needed level of transparency which is why so many of us get discouraged.

I have plenty of experience with this: At 46, I’ve spent 15 years looking for love—or admittedly, sometimes just a hookup—on dating sites. That’s a looooong time; longer than anticipated.

What’s more, at times, I find it terribly embarrassing to admit that I am still single despite my varied attempts at dating.

I used to keep that my little dark secret, brushing away the nagging awareness that I was always the single one at dinners—causing me to wonder if perhaps there was something innately wrong with me. Not anymore. They say the truth shall set you free, and boy has it:  I’ve begun airing out my connection conundrum and my public proclamations on social media have opened up a whole new dialogue with my friends.

Best thing I learned: I was far from being alone in this business of being alone. I am not alone when I say that I am alone.

Am I flawed? Hell yes! Are there red flags coming out my ears? Possibly! Do I have room for improvement? Most definitely. Does that insecurity seep into my profile? Does my pessimism taint the profiles I peruse? Yep.

In some ways, the online dating experience seems designed to spark cynicism in even the most resolute optimist. What I found, however, was that once I was able to come “out” about my dirty little online secret—and the fact that I’ve so far failed to find my “fit”—it allowed me to just have some fun.

I’ve become more forgiving of myself and others, monkey toes and all. I am newly in love with love and the quest for it—no longer angry at the lack thereof. I share laughter, even tears, about the sometimes daunting task of looking for one’s match.  I’ve made myself vulnerable with my friends—and now with you.

Silly rigid dating rules and superficial deal breakers are no longer required. Harmless quirks and eccentricities come in varying degrees and it’s up to us to decide how much we can handle, or alternatively, dish out. Let’s lighten the heavy sack of expectation we carry into the dating world and exchange microscopes with nice lighting—it will help the seemingly impossible task of finding a match more plausible.

So stop. Stop sputtering to the guy or gal in front of you at dinner about how you’ve “never done this before” and “it’s so embarrassing and weird”; stop lying to family members about how you met that cute loan adjuster.

The dynamic of courtship has changed over the years and it’s time we have a discussion about it.  We no longer have to hide our apps or blush when we see each other on these sites. We can openly hum the “Farmer’s Only dot Com” jingle with gusto.  E-harmony? Indubitably! Match dot com? Match dot yes! Hinge? Bumble? OK Cupid? Yes. Yes and yes!

Let’s all fly our “I am single flag” together shall we? If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I’m not alone when I tell you I’m alone.