Until fairly recently, I was in a mostly-comfortable-enough relationship. I thought we could coast on inertia forever, until the day many decades in the future when death would take us simultaneously into That Good Night (FWIW I disagree with Dylan Thomas, I would way rather go gently).
But after years of being coupled up, I once more find myself a single girl in the city, doing my thing etc. etc. In an effort to keep me from texting my ex*, (most of) my friends have persuaded me to start dating. Online dating.
*It’s not even that I drunk-text my ex, which is the normal-person thing to do. I sit at home and watch reality TV and get really, really sad that I no longer live with someone whom I can brainwash with sex into thinking he enjoys the Bachelor franchise and wants to have spirited debates about whether Chad is the best of the worst. (Best, obviously. DELI SLICES FTW!)
I’m trying to keep an open mind about this whole experience. It’s pretty bizarre to online shop for people. I wish dudes still took the initiative** to hit on you IRL***. I’m already astounded by the variability and inclinations of the human species… I read some of the more interesting messages to my friend and writing partner Scott, who is married and will never have to trawl the bizarro wilderness of the Internet for Twue Love, and his response says it all: “There are several paths to the freezer.”
But, despite my trepidation, I know a lot of people who have had some success on L’Internet (“I met my boyfriennnnnd on Bagel Donut, keep tryinnnnng!”) so I guess I’ll give it a chance. I’ll keep y’all posted, stay tuned.
**I know, I know, it’s not considered being a good feminist to want guys to take the initiative. But we’re all still socialized to be put off by aggressive ladies, amirite? Parents of small children, maybe you can fix this for the next generation, but the reality is that 30-something dudes still respond to the dynamics of the chase. Plus, if I’m only making 76 cents on your dollar you can suck it up and face the possibility of rejection.
***... or maybe they do, just not to me? These are the questions that keep me up at night.