I've seen so many commercials for internet dating websites it makes me wonder if everyone is a hermit these days. Does anyone even leave the house any more?
If you want a new book or CD you can order it on the internet and have it shipped to your house. There are plenty of internet stores that will gladly provide you clothing and shoes. You can even have your groceries delivered!
As I've mentioned before, I've experimented with the sociological aspects of internet dating, mostly out of curiosity and somewhat out of boredom. After all, a man can only browse the Musician's Friend website for so long.
So after completing my little experiment, I felt I had really come to a disturbing conclusion -- society is in trouble, man! Our social fabric is unraveling!
Even my brief time on a dating website, and for purely social research reasons at that, troubles me. It troubles me that the commercials on TV apparently got to me. It troubles me that I even signed up. Research or not, or even as a passing fancy (although telling myself "it was purely for research purposes" does make me fell a bit better about it), I'm not going to say "I never thought I would find myself on a dating website" because that's what everyone thinks.
Really, who sets out on their path to dating bliss by thinking, "I'm definitely going to start looking on the internet first"? Frankly, it's unnatural to find a date on the internet. The internet is for illegally downloading music and buying blu-rays of Smallville and How I Met Your Mother. Speaking of, that show would be totally lame if at the very end he said, "And we met on the internet. And that's how I met your mother."
Instead I should be meeting my soul mate at church. Or through a mutual friend. Or at the grocery store when I happen to bump into someone, knock the cantaloupes out of her hands and, trying to be helpful, say, "Let me grab your melons." Yeah, something funny, charming and embarrassingly memorable like that.
But it seems social interaction, actual face to face, interpersonal social interaction, is a relic of a paradoxically less connected time. A time when telephones were plugged into a wall and typewriters and white-out were a modern convenience. A time when you actually, physically visited your friends to learn what was new in their lives. Aside from internet dating's aforementioned propensity to pander to people's superficiality, it seems as a society our sense of community is eroding. What are people so busy doing these days they can't make time for a church function or a community picnic at the park?
Probably spending hours in front of a computer browsing a dating website.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The Set Up
I'm not entirely opposed to being set up. It's just that sometimes it seems like a threat.
"I've got this great friend! She's really pretty and her personality is awesome!"
That may be true. Apparently her personality is not quite awesome enough, however, to allow her to consider dating beneath herself in the looks department.
Maybe my experiences are aberrative, but it the specter of being set up with a friend's single friend more often than not makes me hesitant to go along with such matchmaking experiments. I've been approached by well intentioned friends to be set up with their single, well intentioned friends on a few occasions, and each time I have been disappointed. Or been the disappointer. Regardless, disappointment was present and, much like every socialist society the world over, in the end only misery was shared equally.
I'll be approached with the idea, to which I will ultimately agree. Ever the optimist, perhaps this time will be different. What have I got to lose, right?
"I've got this great friend I'd like to set you up with."
"Okay, let's do it."
Typically that will be the end of it and I will never hear of it again, at least until another single, seemingly "set up" worthy friend comes along. I can only imagine that my well intentioned friend was met with a stern "No" or even resounding laughter.
Recently, after months of attempted convincing, and apparently being talked up to nearly epic proportions, I allowed my friend to show her friend a picture. And that was the end of that. I imagine there was an even sterner "No" and perhaps some weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Dignity. That's what I've got to lose. Dignity replaced with fear and loathing.
It's not always so depressing, though, hence my still dimly flickering sense of optimism. One time I actually met my friend's friend.
"It will be great," he said. "She wants to meet for lunch. She's really excited about it."
So we had lunch. Well, my friend's friend and I had lunch, along with a friend of hers, and my friend.
But wait, I thought, this could turn out well. She will see that I have friends who enjoy my company and will enjoy my witty banter in a dynamic social situation. She will find my ease in such a situation admirable and sharp sense of humor attractive, which will compensate for my lack of actual, physical attractiveness. After all, isn't that how comedians do it?
The four of us had a wonderful time talking, laughing, and really connecting in friendship and more. I felt a strong sense of attraction. My friend's friend was really excited about it. She enjoyed the witty banter and humorous conversation. Except I don't think it worked out quite as my friend planned. You see, the lovely girl he set me up with kind of liked him. Very much.
Oh, yeah, he's married.
On the plus side, he hasn't threatened to set me up with one of his friends since then. Plus his wife was pretty upset with him, which was funny for me.
So is there a solution to the "Set Up" conundrum? I don't know. Will I allow my friends to continue to try to set me up with their single friends? Probably. Preferably without an audience.
"I've got this great friend! She's really pretty and her personality is awesome!"
That may be true. Apparently her personality is not quite awesome enough, however, to allow her to consider dating beneath herself in the looks department.
Maybe my experiences are aberrative, but it the specter of being set up with a friend's single friend more often than not makes me hesitant to go along with such matchmaking experiments. I've been approached by well intentioned friends to be set up with their single, well intentioned friends on a few occasions, and each time I have been disappointed. Or been the disappointer. Regardless, disappointment was present and, much like every socialist society the world over, in the end only misery was shared equally.
I'll be approached with the idea, to which I will ultimately agree. Ever the optimist, perhaps this time will be different. What have I got to lose, right?
"I've got this great friend I'd like to set you up with."
"Okay, let's do it."
Typically that will be the end of it and I will never hear of it again, at least until another single, seemingly "set up" worthy friend comes along. I can only imagine that my well intentioned friend was met with a stern "No" or even resounding laughter.
Recently, after months of attempted convincing, and apparently being talked up to nearly epic proportions, I allowed my friend to show her friend a picture. And that was the end of that. I imagine there was an even sterner "No" and perhaps some weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Dignity. That's what I've got to lose. Dignity replaced with fear and loathing.
It's not always so depressing, though, hence my still dimly flickering sense of optimism. One time I actually met my friend's friend.
"It will be great," he said. "She wants to meet for lunch. She's really excited about it."
So we had lunch. Well, my friend's friend and I had lunch, along with a friend of hers, and my friend.
But wait, I thought, this could turn out well. She will see that I have friends who enjoy my company and will enjoy my witty banter in a dynamic social situation. She will find my ease in such a situation admirable and sharp sense of humor attractive, which will compensate for my lack of actual, physical attractiveness. After all, isn't that how comedians do it?
The four of us had a wonderful time talking, laughing, and really connecting in friendship and more. I felt a strong sense of attraction. My friend's friend was really excited about it. She enjoyed the witty banter and humorous conversation. Except I don't think it worked out quite as my friend planned. You see, the lovely girl he set me up with kind of liked him. Very much.
Oh, yeah, he's married.
On the plus side, he hasn't threatened to set me up with one of his friends since then. Plus his wife was pretty upset with him, which was funny for me.
So is there a solution to the "Set Up" conundrum? I don't know. Will I allow my friends to continue to try to set me up with their single friends? Probably. Preferably without an audience.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Museums -- Good for learning, bad for dating.
You'd think a museum would make a good first date, right? It does not.
I love museums. They're great for exercise -- lots of walking. They're great for learning -- lots of reading. They're also great when you want to tell your friends and acquaintances beside whom you occasionally feel inadequate that you are a man of culture and learning, for you have visited a museum.
I made the fatal mistake of listening to a woman who said she enjoyed visiting the art museum and translated that into a brilliant, clever, charming and interesting first date.
We can walk and talk and learn together, I thought.
Well, much like my futile attempt to make the baseball team in high school, it was a home-run swing and a flailing miss.
We walked, but there was not a lot of talking. Probably because museums are mostly places where people go to walk and learn, but not talk. There was some talking, but, really, how can you go about all the first date get-to-know-you conversation when there is a naked statue staring you in the face?
"So, you have how many siblings?"
"Wow, that's a very provocative sculpture."
"And what did you study in college?"
"Oh, my, what a prominent appendage..."
So the result is a very awkward, very uncomfortable stroll through a very quiet place with someone you don't know.
We walked, but there was not a lot of learning, You don't get much of a chance to read the plaques denoting the significance of each particular piece. Because you're walking around a very quiet place with someone you don't know. And maybe you would also like to learn more about her? But you don't know, because you're walking around a very quiet place with someone you don't know! You're trying to learn about her, you're trying to absorb the collective artistic and historical brilliance of thousands of years of human achievement -- instead you walk away wondering, "Did I just waste three hours and sixty bucks?"
Plus, museums aren't romantic. Maybe they are in movies. But not in real life. Nothing says two strangers coming together romantically like trying to read about a Romantic-era painting on a tarnished copper plaque next to a smelly old man with his audio guide headphones blaring.
But at least I learned something. Museums are for learning, not dating.
I love museums. They're great for exercise -- lots of walking. They're great for learning -- lots of reading. They're also great when you want to tell your friends and acquaintances beside whom you occasionally feel inadequate that you are a man of culture and learning, for you have visited a museum.
I made the fatal mistake of listening to a woman who said she enjoyed visiting the art museum and translated that into a brilliant, clever, charming and interesting first date.
We can walk and talk and learn together, I thought.
Well, much like my futile attempt to make the baseball team in high school, it was a home-run swing and a flailing miss.
We walked, but there was not a lot of talking. Probably because museums are mostly places where people go to walk and learn, but not talk. There was some talking, but, really, how can you go about all the first date get-to-know-you conversation when there is a naked statue staring you in the face?
"So, you have how many siblings?"
"Wow, that's a very provocative sculpture."
"And what did you study in college?"
"Oh, my, what a prominent appendage..."
So the result is a very awkward, very uncomfortable stroll through a very quiet place with someone you don't know.
We walked, but there was not a lot of learning, You don't get much of a chance to read the plaques denoting the significance of each particular piece. Because you're walking around a very quiet place with someone you don't know. And maybe you would also like to learn more about her? But you don't know, because you're walking around a very quiet place with someone you don't know! You're trying to learn about her, you're trying to absorb the collective artistic and historical brilliance of thousands of years of human achievement -- instead you walk away wondering, "Did I just waste three hours and sixty bucks?"
Plus, museums aren't romantic. Maybe they are in movies. But not in real life. Nothing says two strangers coming together romantically like trying to read about a Romantic-era painting on a tarnished copper plaque next to a smelly old man with his audio guide headphones blaring.
But at least I learned something. Museums are for learning, not dating.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Who doesn't love bacon?!
Seems that bacon is pretty popular these days. Or at least professing publicly a love of bacon is pretty popular (Denny's Bacon Festival of Unabashed Gluttony?!). You know you've really hit on something when it's made into an ice cream sundae.
I like to think I've always been ahead of the trend. Really, who doesn't love bacon? And what's not to love about bacon? Bacon rules. I've eaten bacon forever, and loved every minute of it as I crunched on that salty, meaty, smokey bacony goodness, even when it was going to plug up my arteries and kill me.
But if the commercials I've seen are an indication, bacon is once again safe for regular consumption. In fact, bacon may even make you cool!
I remember when I was in high school, all the pretty, popular girls were on their "diets" which seemed to consist of big plates of french fries and of mayonnaise. The less pretty, less popular girls ate like the rest of us, i.e. normally, which was nice. It gave them the illusion of approachability, as though an ugly, dorky yet hopeful guy could walk right up to one of these almost-girls-next-door and ask her how she was enjoying her hamburger. Alas, it was only an illusion.
The best days were when the cafeteria served bacon cheeseburgers. The pretty, popular girls wouldn't touch them. Even those summers when I worked at a fast food joint, while I ordered the bacon-double-everything, the pretty, popular girls avoided it like drugstore cosmetics.
But now bacon is the Justin Bieber of cured meats.
I've always had this theory -- you know you've found the right girl if she loves bacon even when it's not popular.
I like to think I've always been ahead of the trend. Really, who doesn't love bacon? And what's not to love about bacon? Bacon rules. I've eaten bacon forever, and loved every minute of it as I crunched on that salty, meaty, smokey bacony goodness, even when it was going to plug up my arteries and kill me.
But if the commercials I've seen are an indication, bacon is once again safe for regular consumption. In fact, bacon may even make you cool!
I remember when I was in high school, all the pretty, popular girls were on their "diets" which seemed to consist of big plates of french fries and of mayonnaise. The less pretty, less popular girls ate like the rest of us, i.e. normally, which was nice. It gave them the illusion of approachability, as though an ugly, dorky yet hopeful guy could walk right up to one of these almost-girls-next-door and ask her how she was enjoying her hamburger. Alas, it was only an illusion.
The best days were when the cafeteria served bacon cheeseburgers. The pretty, popular girls wouldn't touch them. Even those summers when I worked at a fast food joint, while I ordered the bacon-double-everything, the pretty, popular girls avoided it like drugstore cosmetics.
But now bacon is the Justin Bieber of cured meats.
I've always had this theory -- you know you've found the right girl if she loves bacon even when it's not popular.
Friday, June 17, 2011
What am I going to do on Friday nights now?
So after ten years the venerable superhero television gem Smallville has come to an end, and I am kind of sad to see it go. The last few seasons the show has aired on Friday nights, where shows long in the tooth go to die. Surprisingly Smallville was resilient and stuck it out a couple more seasons, which worked out for me. My Friday schedule has generally been pretty open. Ugly guys don't get dates on Friday nights. Why go to bars and troll for chicks when you can enjoy some occasionally interesting but more often than not poorly written teen drama slash science fiction adventures from the comfort of your darkened living room, complete with a cold beer or three at hand to smooth out the plot holes? Come to think of it, the often dark and even more often alcoholic hazed environment of the bar scene might work to my advantage as a ugly but tall guy.
Dateless on another Friday night doesn't have to mean bored or depressed. In a way I looked forward to Smallville every week, despite its many maddening flaws. Ten years is a long time for any TV show to last, especially when you've watched it since the very beginning and are still young enough that ten years makes up a significant percentage of your years. Ten years is a long time when you think of where you were then, and where you are now. It's been something of a constant in a changing life and a changing world. I could always count on its exhilarating, frustrating blend of superhero mythos and illogical nonsense.
So what am I to do on Friday nights now? I find that as I grow older my ability to readily accept or at least overlook mediocre or even bad TV diminishes. Furthermore, as previously stated Friday nights are the equivalent of hospice for shows on their last legs. Their best plots are far behind them and to jump in so late is like becoming a fan of the Washington Wizards' Michael Jordan.
So the quest has begun to find new ways to occupy myself on dateless Friday nights. Maybe I'll find a comfortable chair and a good book at Barnes & Noble. There's always the Redbox.
Or maybe I'll revisit that darkened bar idea...
Dateless on another Friday night doesn't have to mean bored or depressed. In a way I looked forward to Smallville every week, despite its many maddening flaws. Ten years is a long time for any TV show to last, especially when you've watched it since the very beginning and are still young enough that ten years makes up a significant percentage of your years. Ten years is a long time when you think of where you were then, and where you are now. It's been something of a constant in a changing life and a changing world. I could always count on its exhilarating, frustrating blend of superhero mythos and illogical nonsense.
So what am I to do on Friday nights now? I find that as I grow older my ability to readily accept or at least overlook mediocre or even bad TV diminishes. Furthermore, as previously stated Friday nights are the equivalent of hospice for shows on their last legs. Their best plots are far behind them and to jump in so late is like becoming a fan of the Washington Wizards' Michael Jordan.
So the quest has begun to find new ways to occupy myself on dateless Friday nights. Maybe I'll find a comfortable chair and a good book at Barnes & Noble. There's always the Redbox.
Or maybe I'll revisit that darkened bar idea...
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The Invisible Man
I'd like to tell you a story.
Have you noticed all the TV ads for dating websites lately? They're everywhere! I now know that 1 in 5 relationships starts online. Whatever happened to meeting your soulmate at the supermarket or a church potluck dinner?
I can think of three reasons for the phenomenon of online dating. People are too busy with work these days to actively search for a significant other. Nobody leaves their houses anymore because you can find anything and everything online. There's a TON of money to be made in online dating subscriptions. I have the feeling it's that last one.
I was at the gym the other day and, as I observed the other people exercising and working out, I noticed a few things. There were quite a few very attractive women at the gym. Now this is no surprise. I've often seen attractive women at gyms. As an aside, is it just me or does seeing a woman actively taking care of her health and physical condition make her even more attractive? Who knows.
I also noticed how unnoticed I seemed to be. It was at once comforting and unnerving. I enjoyed being able to go about my business in peace, especially since it's been a long time since I've visited a gym and can't push the weights around as well as I used to. But when I noticed other gym members who seemed to be strangers randomly interacting I realized I was invisible.
You know the stereotypical "eyes meet across a crowded room" romantic scenario? That's never happened to me. The "love at first sight" meeting at the supermarket? Nope. I've never even been set up on a date by friends.
So I decided to embark upon an interesting social experiment. Well, interesting to me, at least. And not so much scientific.
I visited a dating website and created two profiles, both relatively accurate portrayals of the man I am with one exception -- the pictures. My first profile featured a couple pictures of myself, and the other featured a couple pictures of an attractive male model type guy found on a department store's website.
After the first five days, the model profile was viewed more than 600 times, had received 60 email messages and 85 additional "flirt" type contacts.
Of course! The super attractive me is, well, super attractive.
And that was just the beginning. The super attractive me gets so much attention I have a hard time keeping up with it!
Can you guess how many times the real me has been viewed? Two.
Granted, this was by no means a strictly scientific experiment. But I wanted to prove a theory, and in that I succeeded. When you're an ugly guy, you're invisible.
Have you noticed all the TV ads for dating websites lately? They're everywhere! I now know that 1 in 5 relationships starts online. Whatever happened to meeting your soulmate at the supermarket or a church potluck dinner?
I can think of three reasons for the phenomenon of online dating. People are too busy with work these days to actively search for a significant other. Nobody leaves their houses anymore because you can find anything and everything online. There's a TON of money to be made in online dating subscriptions. I have the feeling it's that last one.
I was at the gym the other day and, as I observed the other people exercising and working out, I noticed a few things. There were quite a few very attractive women at the gym. Now this is no surprise. I've often seen attractive women at gyms. As an aside, is it just me or does seeing a woman actively taking care of her health and physical condition make her even more attractive? Who knows.
I also noticed how unnoticed I seemed to be. It was at once comforting and unnerving. I enjoyed being able to go about my business in peace, especially since it's been a long time since I've visited a gym and can't push the weights around as well as I used to. But when I noticed other gym members who seemed to be strangers randomly interacting I realized I was invisible.
You know the stereotypical "eyes meet across a crowded room" romantic scenario? That's never happened to me. The "love at first sight" meeting at the supermarket? Nope. I've never even been set up on a date by friends.
So I decided to embark upon an interesting social experiment. Well, interesting to me, at least. And not so much scientific.
I visited a dating website and created two profiles, both relatively accurate portrayals of the man I am with one exception -- the pictures. My first profile featured a couple pictures of myself, and the other featured a couple pictures of an attractive male model type guy found on a department store's website.
After the first five days, the model profile was viewed more than 600 times, had received 60 email messages and 85 additional "flirt" type contacts.
Of course! The super attractive me is, well, super attractive.
And that was just the beginning. The super attractive me gets so much attention I have a hard time keeping up with it!
Can you guess how many times the real me has been viewed? Two.
Granted, this was by no means a strictly scientific experiment. But I wanted to prove a theory, and in that I succeeded. When you're an ugly guy, you're invisible.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Nice guys finish last.
Why do women always seem to go for the bad boy? She may say she's looking to settle down, looking for a nice guy she can take home to Mom, a good guy who will treat her right. But the next time you see her she is with a jerk!
I have a theory. No, it is not that women enjoy misery. The bad boy can get away with being bad because he is good looking. Women will still flock to him like seagulls to a parking lot. If I were extremely attractive, who knows? Maybe I too would be arrogant, self absorbed, selfish, condescending and mean. But I am not so good looking that I can get away with bad behavior. The unattractive man has to win people over with humor, personality and charm. Why do you think there are so many very homely, very popular comedians?
Thus, the nice guy conundrum. Here we stand. We are the "nice guy." That's right, the perpetual resident of the friends zone. We really listen when you speak. We remember what you say. Sure, we'll stare at your chest, but only for a moment, just long enough to satisfy our innate, instinctive male curiosity before we return to gazing at your soul through the windows of your sparkling blue eyes. Or green, brown, hazel... you get the idea.
So when we do finally get her number, after much cajoling, usually at the expense of much soul-crushing self-deprecating humor, she's already decided to be just friends. We're weeping on the inside. Any conversation will inevitably be nothing more than amicable, friendly chatter. No flirtatious banter here. Instead she wants to maybe chat unenthusiastically about the weather, or tell us an anecdote about her day and elicit some anti-romantic non-threatening workplace commiseration.
Then later that evening she will hop on some jerk's motorcycle and pant after him wistfully as he frequently ignores her, imagining the day when he will stop talking up every short skirt in the room and only listen to her stories. Then he will whisk her away on said motorcycle while being chased by assorted jilted lovers who were unable to finally change him into that ultimate combination of dangerous hunter-gatherer and domestic protector-comforter.
I suspect women want some combination of the nice guy and the bad boy -- caring and kind, but also a little bit wild and dangerous. A guy who will make them feel safe, yet a little bit scared. Compassion and confidence. The archetypal romance novel protagonist. When given the option in the real world, however, so many choose the handsome jerk. So the nice guys really do finish last.
Unless they're rich...
I have a theory. No, it is not that women enjoy misery. The bad boy can get away with being bad because he is good looking. Women will still flock to him like seagulls to a parking lot. If I were extremely attractive, who knows? Maybe I too would be arrogant, self absorbed, selfish, condescending and mean. But I am not so good looking that I can get away with bad behavior. The unattractive man has to win people over with humor, personality and charm. Why do you think there are so many very homely, very popular comedians?
Thus, the nice guy conundrum. Here we stand. We are the "nice guy." That's right, the perpetual resident of the friends zone. We really listen when you speak. We remember what you say. Sure, we'll stare at your chest, but only for a moment, just long enough to satisfy our innate, instinctive male curiosity before we return to gazing at your soul through the windows of your sparkling blue eyes. Or green, brown, hazel... you get the idea.
So when we do finally get her number, after much cajoling, usually at the expense of much soul-crushing self-deprecating humor, she's already decided to be just friends. We're weeping on the inside. Any conversation will inevitably be nothing more than amicable, friendly chatter. No flirtatious banter here. Instead she wants to maybe chat unenthusiastically about the weather, or tell us an anecdote about her day and elicit some anti-romantic non-threatening workplace commiseration.
Then later that evening she will hop on some jerk's motorcycle and pant after him wistfully as he frequently ignores her, imagining the day when he will stop talking up every short skirt in the room and only listen to her stories. Then he will whisk her away on said motorcycle while being chased by assorted jilted lovers who were unable to finally change him into that ultimate combination of dangerous hunter-gatherer and domestic protector-comforter.
I suspect women want some combination of the nice guy and the bad boy -- caring and kind, but also a little bit wild and dangerous. A guy who will make them feel safe, yet a little bit scared. Compassion and confidence. The archetypal romance novel protagonist. When given the option in the real world, however, so many choose the handsome jerk. So the nice guys really do finish last.
Unless they're rich...
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