12 p.m. — After paying for extras on Tinder, so I could see who liked or viewed my profile, I got into a relationship and deleted the app. Then, a couple of months ago, we broke up. Some people don't care about their partner's history, but I do. I was married to someone whose past came back to haunt both of us, and I vowed never to be with a person who engages in criminal activity ever again. I believe it takes a certain type of person to hurt, steal from, or lie to others, and because I have a strong moral compass, I want to be with someone who has similar ideals. I've since stepped away from online dating. I want love to happen naturally, mediated by what's in the stars for me. Maybe my ideals in this regard are not evolving with the times, but I'm trying to save myself from being a "serial profile picker" — that is, matching with numerous people over and over again and yielding lots of communication but very few quality interactions. I'm content with being single for now and writing my pen pal who is incarcerated. We've developed a meaningful friendship over the last few months, and I've become something of a mentor to him. I check my email to find several messages from him, thanking me for my generous gift — I previously sent $50 to his prison account — and letting me know that my messages truly uplift his spirits. I choose to ignore his inquiries about what kind of music I listen to and why I'm single because there are limited characters allowed per 25-cent message (you have to pay per message to communicate with inmates), and mentorship is my key motivator in our interactions.