Dating at 40-something. I never thought I would be here, but after the demise of two long-term relationships over the past 20 years I now found myself struggling to make my way through the dating world, once again. In actuality, I find dating to bring out more or less the same anxiety I felt in my 20s but, as many friends have explained to me, there are many more options at my disposal. Options that take away the uncertainty of blind dates or cold set ups and make it that much easier to find those who share your interests and passions. How much more simple could it be? And so, with a new focus toward taking advantage of all the perks the modern world, I signed up for an online dating service and began my new journey to romance in 2010.
My first step seemed easy enough: fill out a personal profile. How liberating it felt to be able to list all of my best qualities without being interrupted by someone else's irritating questions. Finally, a chance to enumerate what was great about me without having to bother with mentioning any of my pesky idiosyncrasies that people sometimes like to focus on. Wow. This was going so well. I was already imagining nights by the fire, cuddling up to Friday Night Lights with a glass of Rose and my new, as yet unnamed loved one. This whole profile thing was saving an enormous amount of time and effort -- I no longer had to worry about weeding though people who wouldn't appreciate the "real" me. Who has the time for that? In this age of immediacy, don't worry -- you can just read all about me in my handy-dandy, easy-to-read profile?
When I dated back in my 20s, I can't begin to describe the panic that used to set in as my dates looked to me with a flourish of disbelief and confusion when I asked them to tell me about themselves. The profile eliminates the need for those conversations and so, when we actually do connect with someone online, we are free to start imagining scenarios involving a storybook romance unfolding in front of our eyes before we even get to our shrimp cocktail appetizers.
But, when we physically meet, despite all of our pre-fabricated fantasies of spiritual retreats in India or long kayaking trips down the Ganges, reality sets in. The truth is that, through our profiles, we essentially become lists -- checklists of what we think might play well when presenting ourselves to others. In turn, we wind up writing things that are more a manifestation of what we hope for our lives to be, what we want to be capable of achieving, as opposed to the realities of life as we live it. And, by trying to "connect" in such an abbreviated way, we actually shortchange ourselves by diminishing our uniqueness, our originality, and we ultimately become caricatures of ourselves.
On the surface, online dating might seem like some modern cure-all for all our dating woes -- eliminating the uncertainty of meeting someone for the first time. What ultimately transpires though is that we erase what gives our lives texture and meaning. Without mention of our blemishes and imperfections we're left with these imagined versions of ourselves and when we come under scrutiny there is nothing left but to be disappointed in what we see -- both in ourselves and in others.
What I've come to accept in my dating life is that, despite the shortcuts to happiness readily available to me, I miss the unknown. I miss those nervous butterflies in my stomach on a first date that portends either the beginning of a new adventure or a train wreck that is about to follow. For me, online dating actually takes the romance out of dating. It becomes more of a business transaction or mathematical equation, leaving us to calculate our assets and forgo our liabilities, all in the name of being more "real" and "honest." In that process we lose a part of ourselves and we lose a part of romance.
In my online profile, Marty loves to take long walks on the beach, swim with dolphins and cuddle in front of the fire. The real Marty, however, lives in Manhattan, far from any accessible beach. He has an incinerator instead of a fireplace and he sometimes tries in vain to balance his life as a man in his mid-forties, struggling with work, relationships, school, family and friends. It's not always pretty and it's not always something to brag about but frankly, the real Marty sounds much more interesting to me, complexities and all. Maybe there's someone who wants to grab a cup of coffee with him?