Tagged: war stories

but toward what end

DSC_0009

Whether by dint of good fortune or through sheer force of will you happen to go on first dates with 63 strangers you met off the internet, dating is gonna drop some truth bombs on you. Some will be subtle, and others’ll hit you over the head.

Perhaps, reader, you may be wondering, “Wow, 63? Isn’t that emotionally (and financially!) draining?” You’re telling me, friend.

Here are my valedictory remarks – after 21 months I’ve learned:

That highly compatible aesthetic tastes regarding just about anything (music, food, art) tell you approximately nothing about whether you will enjoy spending time with someone.

People who entirely, 100% share your politics can still be jerks.

That there are innumerable reasons why someone may not respond to your advances online and that only some of them have to do with you. Even when they have to do with you, you were given such a small sliver of that someone’s attention that you cannot at all take it as an indictment of who you are. You just can’t.

That once you start getting kind, engaging, complimentary messages from seemingly warmhearted, decent people you are not attracted to at all, you’ll get why the nearly universal way of turning someone down in online dating is silence: engaging with those messages on a platonic level sends the wrong signal (it is a dating site after all), whereas a response that is forthright and clear in establishing you’re not interested in meeting your would-be wooer is no more fun to receive than none at all.

That you will experience a lot of firsts (& seconds, & thirds): your introductory messages will be ignored, you will be turned down for second dates, someone you date will refuse to exclusively date only you when you ask her or him to. These milestones will all hurt. Given enough time and dates they cease to be milestones and they become routine. Their being routine will strip these setbacks of their power to hurt you. The setbacks occurred – you’re still here.

That once you become inured to rejection through repetition (as opposed to intentional spiritual effort), when you no longer have any fear that you will not be desired, others will sense your equanimity and will be powerfully drawn to it. You will attract more romantic attention than you could ever realistically entertain.

There is a danger here: even when you attain a zen-like detachment from romantic loss, others are still breakable.

That the process of finding this out can rend your heart more than rejection used to, back before you were inured to it.

That equanimity being double-sided isn’t a mere matter of literal definition; that the same emotional distance that allows you to brush rejection off your shoulder with ease is in all likelihood an impassable boundary precluding true human connection.

That your friends will give you a lot of shit about how it’s wrong and deceptive to date several people at once, even if none of those several people have said anything to indicate they would object if they knew. He or she of your friends who is without romantic sin should cast the first stone. But still, they might be right.

After you date one person for a while, it will become impossible to remember how they appeared to you on the first date.

You kinda gotta wonder: how much of this increased dating success came from rigorous psychic self-improvement vs. how much can just be attributed to flossing with way more discipline and regularity than before?

That your ex, the one you lost and who you joined online dating sites to get over/transcend/replace, is not on those sites. He or she may literally be on there (and you are highly advised not to spend much time looking at or for the ex’s profile), but what I mean is a like-for-like replacement human being who looks like your ex, thinks and acts like your ex, and loves you like you fervently wished your ex still did is not. This realization is hard won. This truth is simultaneously both devastatingly sad and ok, somehow.

While adhering to the expectation that a partner should stand up and articulate what it is they desire (emotionally, sexually) can under some circumstances be a way to empower her or him and affirm his or her agency, under other circumstances that expectation can function as a self-serving rationalization for disregarding real power imbalances. That your partner may be, rightfully or wrongfully, too scared to ask for what they really want.

It is much, much easier to be the one to ask your partner “tell me what it is that you want” than it is to tell them what you want. That you shouldn’t pat yourself on the back too much for inviting someone to reveal themselves and make themselves vulnerable before you. That you should be honored if they do.

“That having sex with someone you do not care for feels lonelier than not having sex in the first place, afterward.”

That if there’s anyone out there who isn’t kinda self-conscious and anxious the first time they sleep with a new person, I sure haven’t slept with them yet.

If you want to sound the depths of someone’s emotional seas, so to speak, you could do worse than to pay attention to his or her reactions to the gaffes or blunders that inevitably occur during sex.

That there are brilliant and thoughtful people who never went to prestigious colleges. There are vibrant, vital, creative individuals working shit jobs. The opposite of these two statements can also be true.

That contrary to popular belief, you should be most wary of dating those who are undamaged, or who have never really been sad.

A big reason people resort to hoary, unilluminating clichés (e.g., “I don’t feel a spark,” etc.) when choosing to end a relationship is because it’s goddamn hard to look someone in the eye and honestly tell them what they don’t have that you want, and to risk having it thrown back in your face, or worse: seeing someone you do care about dearly crumple in tears at the revelations.

That holding tight to generosity as a meta-level value to govern your interaction with lovers (and everybody else) – giving others the benefit of the doubt, recognizing that everyone else’s path to this exact moment has been idiosyncratic and has taken twists and turns you will never be able to comprehend the full extent of – isn’t just bleeding-heart altruistic/kind, but absolutely guides you to better choose which people are worth investing time in.

That someone who is rejecting you might be vulnerable and in need of your compassion.

That you are a complete and whole person even if any given individual doesn’t love you.

That that in you which one person sees as a flaw, the next may very well find endearing. This isn’t sappy sentimentalism – it is true; it is my lived experience.

That in online dating there are always new people to meet.

That this once seemed a consolation.

Or even: cause for celebration.

how to have a second date in london

Image

1. ASK FOR A SECOND DATE

You live on a different continent and you’ll be heading home in about 30 hours. You normally don’t ask someone out for another date during the first date, and you definitely don’t usually ask someone out for the next evening, but there’s no time to be coy! Today you had a lot of fun meeting a erudite, beautiful, and charming British woman and her friend of equal erudition, beauty, and charm.

They should correct you and tell you they’d never call themselves “British.” They’re English.

Nod.

Soon it is the end of the night. Navigate between the dangerous twin shoals of overeager romantic ambition and missed opportunity. Evade eddies of self-doubt, etc. Propose dinner tomorrow. She should say yes. Part ways. Even though this is vacation for you, it’s just another night before work for her.

Ride the tube back to your hotel.

Note: “Tewwww-b.”

Change your mind and go the opposite direction on the line headed away from your hotel. Find the way out of a faraway station, grab a bike share bike, and ride home. Do so without the benefit of Google Maps because international data roaming is more expensive than the pens at Harrods. Receive a text while biking. Feel rage when you drop your phone right here, relief when it’s not broken, and cheer when it’s a message from her. She had fun tonight and looks forward to meeting again tomorrow.

  • INSTANT EXERCISE: Could God make a pen so needlessly expensive that He Himself could not afford it? Discuss.

2. HOW NOT TO BE ON THE SECOND DATE YET

Arrive outside the Chancery Lane station the next day a little early. Collect yourself! You walked here quickly and your heart rate is up. An elevated heart rate is a deadly game-killer. Once collected, you should stand there for a while. Begin to doubt that you’ve arrived at the right place at all.

Consider who to ask for assistance. Choose a man in a suit smoking a cigarette.

Though this instruction is syntactically ambiguous, in real life when you actually approach this man it will be clear to you that the man is smoking the cigarette – not the suit.

The man should be pleasant and voluble. He will tell you: “yes, if someone says ‘meet me at Chancery Lane,’ they mean right outside the station,” though there is also a road named Chancery Lane a bit down thataway and to your left.

Together you two should rule out the possibility that you were meant to meet your date on the street itself.

Wait a bit more. She will emerge. Smile.

3. GO ON THE SECOND DATE

Drinks at a suitably English-y pub and dinner at a swanky vegetarian restaurant should last about three or four hours, which objectively is a substantial period of time. Subjectively the encounter should feel very brief indeed. The conversation will be effortless. It should cover many subjects and touch upon but never quite reach many others. She will hate (HATE!) the Daily Mail. There should be too much to talk about, too little time. Remember: the etymological root of “converse” is “to turn with.” Meander.

If conversation did not playfully meander and your date expressed no more than tepid distaste for the Daily Mail, you may have gone on a date with someone, but you did not go on a second date in London with Stephanie.

At one point she should want to read you a poem, but reconsider, and then re-reconsider. She will read the poem.

You will feel several different emotions. Be a bit too affected by her accent. You provincial American, you. Be afraid you won’t really “get” the poem when she begins to recite it to you. “Get” it more than you thought you would. She should stress a particular line in the poem that she loves. Try to figure out whether she stressed that one line because she loves it, or if she meant it as an invitation, or both.

Note: You won’t really ever know.

The phone she reads from should light her face in a truly spectacular way. It should move you. Ponder the Buddhist concept of impermanence while being moved. Sadden. Get over it. Finally – experience an emotion so rare you’ve never felt it before: something like gratitude toward your exes for dumping you so you could be here tonight.

The restaurant tab should be ruinously expensive. You will offer to pay and she will offer to pay. The politics/significance of who pays for dates is such a trite subject. Don’t think too much about it one way or the other.

Leave the restaurant. Walk the dark narrow lanes together. Strategize as to how you can extend the evening now that its inevitable end is appearing over the horizon. Practically invite yourself over.

Fail.

She’ll agree to let you walk her most of the way home. Go. The streets should be damp and cold and evocative, like they are in all the Romcoms you’ve seen that’ve shaped your prior conceptions of what a date in London would be like.

Note: Specifically you’re thinking of Notting Hill. You sap.

Think back to every single other time you’ve made that initial romantic physical contact. Be aware once again that the figurative term “leap of faith,” no matter how overused and cliché, is goddamn apt at moments like these.

Always remember that different bodies fit together in different ways and no two first moves will ever turn out the same. As a younger man you would have overthought this shit, but tonight you will not. Settle on putting your arm around her waist. Feel for a jacket pocket, or maybe just like a belt loop to anchor your hand. Find nothing. Even though this first move is too noncommittal to work well, she should not draw away. Be thankful.

Share. Talk. She will tell you – why not, right? – that she’s sort of seeing someone, but they’re also kind of on a break, and that the whys and hows of the break seem silly to her. They should seem silly to you too. She’ll be glad you agree.

Keep walking, with an awkward gait, waist-to-waist. She should unpack her sort-of relationship with you. While doing so, she’ll sigh. A lot. She will apologize for seeming self-centered. Agree solipsism is a trap that’s hard to escape from. Resolve to try harder in the future to break free of it. Ponder the Buddhist concept of the oneness of all beings. Intuit (or: hope) that her sighs signal more than just melancholy over her sort-of lover; that you and your pending departure have affected her. Too.

Know first hand that heartache can be multivalent.

Soon she will take your arm off from around her waist and hold your hand. That’s better. Try to calibrate how much you squeeze her hand to how much she squeezes yours.

Note: Dude you’re overthinking it.

Stop on a corner. Ask for her email address. Kiss. She should say: “Bye, [your name].” Wince imperceptibly. Say: “Bye.”

Go back to America.

  • INSTANT EXERCISE: Yeah, yeah, Buddhist precepts, or whatever. But isn’t the hard part actually internalizing and like, truly accepting the difficult realities of life rather than patting yourself on the back for being able to name drop chunks of pseudospiritual/philosophical wisdom? Why or why not?

4. HOW TO NOT TO HAVE A SECOND DATE IN LONDON ANYMORE

People should ask: “how was the trip?” You should tell them. People should be mildly impressed that you went on dates with a British English woman. People should ask: “how did you set that up?” Tell them: “OkCupid.” People should wonder aloud: “I didn’t know they had that over there.”

Note: It’s basically just the US with better accents. Yes: they have OkCupid.

Tell the people you had an enchanting time with her.

After some trial and error, recognize the limits of how much you can talk about Stephanie before your friends begin to smirk at you warmly with the same expression you yourself would give a five year-old who said he knows who he’s going to marry when he grows up. Feel a bit silly. Feel precious.

Struggle to construct meaning from experience. Go back to work. Welcome home.

 

tinder: or how it is to be fungible

Image

I’ve previously discussed some of the ins and outs of “traditional” online dating, such as thoughtful profile construction, assembling an array of photographs, the right frame of mind to be in when sending out messages, and some techniques for not only selling yourself truthfully yet convincingly, but also thinking critically about what you truly might be looking for in a match.

If it sounds to you like there’s a lot of work that goes into this shit, then yeah, you’re right.

So because I’ve grown a bit weary in what’s now month fifteen of my soulmate sojourn (or whatever) I’ve started to look for easy ways out and to cut corners where I can. Tinder it is!

Like a lot of people probably did (and do), at first I thought Tinder was a pretty stupid concept. Your “profile” consists almost entirely of just a few photos of yourself. There’s no search function since the app solicits nearly no information from users that could form the basis of a search. Instead Tinder presents you with a (seemingly) limitless number of people, served up one at a time and you just say yes or no to their photographs. (“Thumbs down, he’s holding a dead deer carcass…thumbs up, he looks good in a suit…thumbs down, she’s got a kid…a vigorous thumbs up, she’s giving a liquor bottle a blowjob…”)

Now I’m increasingly convinced that the Tinder people are really on to something.

It’s not just that the people on Tinder are, on average (as you’d expect from a photo-driven service), more physically attractive, but the effort involved in setting up a traditional online dating profile is staggering. It’s particularly burdensome when you’re picking yourself up from a failed former fling. With Tinder, all you do is open an app, pick some decent photos of yourself, and begin swiping. Elegant in its simplicity. So low-commitment that seemingly vast numbers of people have signed up (or at least it seems vast when you have to swipe one by one).

A reasonable person might object: “Sure, there’s a lot of attractive people on there, but that’s not all there is to a successful match! What about the dimensions of compatibility??!?!

I dunno man. Water seeks its own level, or whatever. So far I’ve met the same caliber of women off Tinder as I met off of other sites – professionally employed, grad degree-holding/seeking, ambitious, etc. After investing some time into getting myself a decent main profile pic and boiling down my In Search of Lost Time-length OkCupid profile down to a much shorter (I dig Margaret Atwood’s short story from that link) 30 words, I’ve been getting more intelligent, attractive women willing to meet up with me than I have evenings free to spend with them.

Lest this sound like I’m just taking the opportunity to brag, I realize the same mechanism that’s bringing these women into my life is also bringing a bunch of super hot dudes into their lives, which is to say when Tinder delivers up an unending stream of interesting, attractive people, the inescapable implication of the way it shapes my perspective on dating is that it’s doing the same for the women on the other end. I’m not breaking ground here by observing that online dating can lead to embarrassment of riches type-dilemmas, but Tinder feels like some next level shit – a hyperreal expansion of possibilities and reduction of difficulty in meeting people. Imagine a slot machine where each pull is free – all it costs is the time you spend sitting there yanking the arm. How much do you have to win before you’re willing to walk away?

The ease with which you can meet people, I think, makes it harder to recognize your endless matches as individual human beings with unique perspective and experiences – and feelings. Unless you make conscious efforts to step back from the addictive game of aimless swiping right and left in your free time, it’s seductively easy to view any single person as entirely disposable. For any reason, or no reason at all, abandon your current contacts, open the app back up and make some new matches.

FUN REAL LIFE EXAMPLE! I “matched” with Julia, 24. We exchanged a few messages about this and that and agreed to meet at a neighborhood coffee shop. Then she cancelled and we rescheduled. Then she cancelled on the day of, and we rescheduled. Then she cancelled on the day of, told me “I promise I’m not really fickle, I’m just sick,” and we rescheduled. Then she cancelled on the day of and said she did not want to reschedule.

Which, being real for a sec, is it possible for any one person to be indispensable? For any of us with a lot of options, when is good good enough? And when good is good enough, will the other person agree?

After a break up one of my good friends told me, “It sounds like [ex’s name] had a lot of really great qualities, but you’ll find other people who have great qualities. They won’t have the same qualities as [ex’s name], but they’ll be wonderful in their own ways.” And time’s proven him right – I’ve met lots of people who are extraordinary in ways I never predicted and couldn’t have guessed in advance that I’d appreciate anyhow. Women with qualities I didn’t know I’d want to look for before I met women who possessed them.

All of this is to say I’m becoming a skeptic that the concept of “what I want” is something knowable – something I can access and work off of to achieve the goal of forming something meaningful and lasting with someone. My favorite author in my favorite novel wrote that “almost nothing important that ever happens to you happens because you engineer it.” So if it’s hard enough to sift through thousands of women’s profiles to identify promising prospects if I have criteria I know are what I’m looking for, think of how adrift I am browsing through Match.com or OkCupid profiles when I’ve lost faith in my judgments about who might be a good fit for me. And what if all the other compulsive swipers out there are coming to the same realizations I’m having?

Ah well. Got another Tinder match while writing this post. Time to figure out what to say to another hot woman I know nothing about.