The Zen of Dating

We mere mortals may not have what it takes to practice 10,000 hours in order to achieve success, as Malcolm Gladwell advises in his best-selling book Outliers. But every skill in life -- from playing piano or golf to ripping off billions meant for charity -- does require intense training. Same with the Buddhist equanimity practice, which instructs you to sit silently and say to yourself, over and over, a single phrase: "No matter how much I wish they were different, things are just the way they are."

This is meant to engender a feeling of acceptance, and sometimes it works--or at least helps take the edge off what's bothering you. I only wish I'd known about it when I was dating.

In ancient times, before God created match.com, single people used to get fixed up by their friends. That way, in addition to your romantic disappointment when it didn't work out, you could be mad at your friend too. And so it was that during the late pre-Internet era, shortly after I'd gotten divorced, a radio shrink I'd met (she authored "Making Love Work," and at last count is on her fifth marriage) thought a friend of hers and I might click.

I agreed to meet her friend, whose name I didn't quite catch, at Talesai, a Thai eatery in Studio City. As I shuffled into the restaurant, I spotted an attractive woman sitting alone at a table for two, sipping white wine. A jolt of good feeling crossed the room when she smiled and waved at me. We talked (and she sipped) for a good 20 minutes. Everything seemed great. Then suddenly, apropos of nothing, she asked if my brother had signed "the contract for the movie." At that instant -- a "Twilight Zone" moment if ever there was one -- I knew we were both on the wrong blind date: There was no way she could have known I had a brother -- remember, this was pre-Google -- and neither of my brothers ever had anything to do with a movie contract. The surrealism continued as I turned around to see our intended dates sitting at two nearby tables, looking bereft. We did the musical chairs thing, and naturally I liked the "Twilight Zone" one, whose name I never got, way better than my real date.

When the Internet dating era dawned around the Millennium, nearly every unattached person I knew was exploring match.com, matchmaker.com, jdate.com or all three. But in the immortal words of Bono, I still hadn't found what I was looking for. (Personally, I'll take Sonny Bono's immortal words, as sung by The Searchers: "Ah, needles and pins, Needles and pins, Needles and pins.")

Online dating is an entirely different animal, because you're fixing yourself up with a total stranger, with no middleman. Information can be invented, photos doctored, and profiles ghost-written. But most of us are guided by an internal compass; we can usually tell in the first nanosecond of a sighting that we know it's not, as they say, "a match."

I tried match.com and jdate.com, and had many misadventures redeemable only by their hilariousness. I also met some terrific women. My most mysterious encounter occurred when I called someone with whom I'd exchanged a series of promising emails. She answered, asked me to hold on, and put the phone down. I held on for a long, long time; at least as long as you usually have to hold for the cable guy. I wasn't sure what was happening, but yelling and barking were involved. She never came back to the phone.

Thankfully, I'm with someone great now. I live in the hope that I'll never, ever have to go on another first date, Internet or otherwise. But if you're still out there, rookie or veteran, remember to listen carefully when you exchange names. And if she turns out not to be your assigned date, be flexible and consider a spontaneous change of plans. At least make sure to get her name. When it doesn't work out -- and it usually won't, because dating, for most, is a practice -- just keep saying to yourself, "No matter how much I wish they were different, things are just the way they are."

Comments

[zoomernyc]

I received my first marriage proposal, well the first in 20 years, on match.com yesterday. Of course, I had never met him before, but he was willing to ride into the sunset with me, sure we would be perfect mates. I considered it for a moment, when you're married you always have a date for New Years Eve. But marriage, I'm not sure if I want to do that again. I also couldn't quite get past the "fireworks going off" when we met and his "emotional stability". So back to the drawing board for me. I'll enjoy my holidays with friends and family and wait for my next proposal. I say it's all in the attitude. Every date is an adventure--some better than others, some even great!! The trick is to be on the site with friends to commiserate with. Sometimes that's more fun than the dates. Happy Holidays.

[OtayPanky]

Hilarious. The same sort of thing happened to me once...from an internet dating meetup.

There are those who really don't want a relationship, and for them, if they get some chops, the internet dating scene is like being a kid in a candy story.

For people who want a relationship, here's what dating is like:

You're hungry, so you to go a restaurant, and they serve you a plate of wood. You ask for something else, so they bring you a bowl of rocks. You tell them you're thirsty and they fetch you a cup of mud.

That's what dating is REALLY like when you take off the spin. You're basically starving to death for some good companionship, some sex and maybe (gasp) even some love, date after date. It's emotional Siberia.

A lot of people apparently give up. And that, it seems to me, is a mistake - the very definition of Aesop's fable about the fox and the grapes.

Them grapes are good. Gettin' 'em ain't always easy - with or without the mantra chanting.