I’ve been thinking about the dating game for a couple of years now. Things have changed a lot over the course of my life when it comes to how we date and how we find people to date. Some of the changes might be good, but some of them, well… I’m not so sure.
When I was growing up, we met people at school or through friends and maybe we thought, “Hey, that one’s cute; maybe I’ll send them a note during class.” Then, the note, which usually said something like, “Do you think I’m cute?” or “Do you like me?”, followed by two boxes and the words, “Check ‘yes’ or ‘no’.” The note came back with their answer. At least this was how most girls did it.
Then in our twenties and thirties, we met people through work, at bars after work, and at parties. Sometimes married friends would introduce us to their other single friends because face it, the person in the couple who knew us first wanted to hang out with us, but the other person never really was comfortable when it was just us and them, so they would often invite a wingman along, at least so they would have someone to talk to. If we hit it off with the wingman, that was even better.
We actually talked to each other when we were dating. We usually introduced the other person to something we liked and they usually shared their interests with us. Women drug their dates to romantic movies, and men drug their dates to Superbowl parties. Of course, there were always exceptions to the rule and different activities to do, but you get the gist. It’s during this time that most people went by the “three-date” rule. You know the one… that the third date should be the date that sex is on the table.
After a while of dating the same person, assuming that by now, we’re exclusive, sleeping over at each other’s places, probably have met each other’s families, and have spent at least one holiday together, we would move in together, get engaged, or even get married. We thought we had made it then… except that life sat back and laughed while she dealt us surprise cards like “Shit just got real”, “Affair”, “Monotony”, “Illness”, “Divorce”, and even “Death”.
So, now what? Now, we have online dating. That has opened a whole new can of worms. Before, we would at least meet someone or see them in person before the date, but with online dating, it is like shopping at Amazon. We put in what we are looking for and hit the “Search” button. We got to describe ourselves, and we had pictures to show what we look like, and we got to see the other person’s pictures once the Amazon for Dating had found something in its vast inventory that was along the lines of what we are searching for, but pictures can be misleading, and some of them make me wonder if I’ve actually been booted over to the Temu of Dating because either a) they can’t read what I am actually looking for, or b) they actually think that they are a real Chihuly lamp instead of an acrylic knockoff that was made in China.
Incidentally, when Hallie was younger, she asked Shana if I had a husband, and when Shana told her that I did not, she said, “Well, she needs to get one”, as if I could just pop down to the Husband Store and pick one out. Apparently, that child knew something we didn’t because that’s exactly what online dating is like.
The pictures consist of all types of fashion faux pas and awkward social mishaps. There are pics of shirtless men with man-boobs standing in front of a bathroom mirror that hasn’t seen a spray of Windex since it was first on the market, ones who are shirtless under a sheet, the obligatory fish picture (Incidentally, WHAT is THAT about? Do they honestly think that holding a picture of a fish that they just pulled out of the water is going to impress me? Like I will be the kind of person who comes home and gets excited when you say, “Look, Darlin’, I got us some dinner!” And, I feel the same about the pictures of them holding up dead animals with their rifle next to them. Maybe they are trying to show themselves as the hunter/gatherer, but personally, show me a picture in the Produce section of Publix because that is about the only hunting and gathering that I – along with most other women – am going to care about.), the picture of them getting sloshed in a bar, or the best one… the oddly shaped picture of them that shows a hand around their waist or on their arm because they cut the ex out of it before posting it.
I am pretty specific in my own profile because I thought requiring teeth, little to no facial hair, being reasonably fit, self-sufficient, and able to converse about a range of subjects in an intelligent manner, or write using proper grammar. I’m choosy in order to weed out the ones who are dead weight or assholes or are looking for a fling. I’ve had coffee with one, and there was no spark at all. I had lunch with one and during lunch, he told me he is living with his mother and then asked me if I could pay for my own lunch (For the record, I am fine with doing this, but if you were the one who did the inviting, then you should be the one to pay.). I was scheduled to meet another, but he got snarky and backed out when I reminded him that I would have my then-17-year-old with me, and told me that he didn’t think we were going to be playing at Disney all day. Clearly, I dodged a bullet with that one. I’ve had one that wanted to talk on the phone instead of text and message back and forth. That’s actually what I would prefer, but when we were on the phone, he didn’t tell me much when I asked him about his interests or how his day was. I stopped answering after that first call, so he left voicemails the next couple of times he called, and he sounds like Eeyore, like he has the energy of a sloth… There is no way he could EVER keep up with me!
I’m choosy because I can be, but based on a recent comment from Philip, aged 61, on one of my photos, maybe I should rethink my strategy, since his exact words and poor grammar usage are shown in the photo below. Then again, I think to myself, “I might be able to find one in the Produce section at Publix when I move to Florida.”
