Online, Schmonline

Online dating.  I'd like to consider myself a pioneer.  As a five-year veteran, I remember the time when we'd rather lie about how we met than admit to technological assistance.  (My ex didn't even tell his friends we'd met online until our wedding day.)  But, things are much more relaxed now, and the online dating options have exploded.  From eHarmony (only for the most serious of seekers) to Match.com (aka meatmarket.com) to okCupid (for the hip, blasé crowd) -- it's become more of an everyone's-doing-it phenomenon.  And I'll admit that I have online dating sites to thank, over the years, for more relationships than I care to admit (about four boyfriends, three completely undefinables, one platonic friend, and one ex-husband -- there, I admitted it).  Not a bad haul, by any accounting.  Yet, here I am, throwing in the towel.  That's right.  At the height of its golden era, I am done with online dating.

Shocker.  I know.  To those that know me best, this announcement will be followed by a skeptical "Uh huh.  Right."  For them, I may be almost synonymous with online dating.  At this point, I think they assume that if I met someone new, it had to have been digital.  This fact is not the least of my reasons for dumping online dating.  Yes, I tend to be a woman of action.  Yes, I tend to be impatient. And, yes, I don't leave much up to chance when it comes to things like my career and my social network.  But, when all is said and done, there is a part of me that wants the exact opposite of that for my love story.  I am a romantic idealist when it comes to love; and, digitized dating just doesn't feel right.  When my daughter someday asks me how her father and I met, what sort of romance is there in retelling the story of sorting through a glut of profiles and hand-selecting someone who a computer pre-determined for me through an algorithm predicting compatibility based on how much "me" time I need and my favorite color?  Drive, calculation, and ambition make for great career success tales.  But, they make for pretty lame love stories. 

On top of all that, at some point, online dating becomes inefficient.  The fact of the matter is that people can represent themselves online however they want -- inaccurate photos, exaggerated descriptions of personality, minimization of neuroses.  As a result, you end up going on a lot of dates that lead to absolutely nothing aside from a lighter wallet and a toss-it evening with which you could have been doing so many other things.  (The only thing I've definitively learned from such interactions is how to make conversation with a brick wall.) Sure, if you meet your life partner online after a matter of weeks or months, then you've wasted relatively little time.  But five years and countless first dates later, I start to wonder how many foreign languages I could have learned in the time I've spent checking my watch over chardonnay.  Assuming you have other interests, like art and yoga and running and reading, at some point it must become a more efficient use of leisure time to only date people who you have actually met in "real life", who you know you like at least enough to spend an entire evening of one-on-one time and not want to vomit.  (Leaving more time for the activities you find truly fulfilling.) While that may be a recipe for fewer dates, wouldn't it also mathematically yield a higher percentage of good ones?

Another thing dragging down the ratio of good to bad dates generated online is what I refer to as "affirmation addiction."  Oh boy.  For those who have dated online a substantial amount, you know what I'm talking about.  For those who haven't, here's my explanation:  Through functions like "winks", lists of "visitors", "favorites", "awards", and basic emailing, people can not only send you a message that they like you, but they can flirt, obsess remotely, spy regularly, save your profile to examine repeatedly, and give you awards for being clever or friendly or sexy.  Each one of these is a little nugget of affirmation tossed your way on a semi-regular basis.  Who needs to develop intrinsic self-worth when you can measure yourself by how many awards you get for being "better looking in person"?  The result:  Addicts -- people who get hooked on the validation they receive from the volume of male or female attention they get online.  Why risk approaching a woman in person?  Why take the chance that the guy you like won't call you back?  Online daters can just revel in the glow of admiration while remaining isolated, selective, and non-responsive.  In some ways placing a profile online is "putting yourself out there," but it also allows users a way to hide from the rest of the world.  Eventually, some online daters give up on the "real world" completely because its affirmation is neither reliable nor likely without reciprocation.  Minimal input, maximum output.  The modern American ideal.

The problem arises when those who haven't slipped into the comfortable world of online affirmation meet someone who has.  And then, Dater A just can't understand why Dater B will trade flirty emails but never meet in person.  Or why Dater B disappears along with the honeymoon phase.  Or how Dater B could fail to call after an obviously successful or passionate or connected date.  Poor things have no idea that the object of their desire never intended to leave the comfort of his couch or is retreating back into his hole once the adoration wanes or eats up good dates like Pacman pellets until his self-satisfaction meter reads in the green.  It's a no-fail formula for frustration and heartache.  Not to mention wasted time and energy, both of which seem to get more valuable as we age.

It's for these reasons, friends, that I am closing the door on online dating.  Instead, I am going to use my time to learn that foreign language.  To travel.  To talk to strangers.  To paint and draw.  To exercise my mind and body.  To visit my family.  To go on movie dates, climbing dates, dancing dates, brunch dates, and reunion dates with my girlfriends.  And to just be, without having to project "interesting" or "smart" or "cool".  To open my door to the flesh and blood world.  And to let things just happen.  I am done digitally seeking love.  If love wants me, it will have to come to me.

To commemorate this moment, the site of my last last LAST online date:

The Little Owl
Corner of Bedford and Grove (West Village)
I could not have hand-picked a last online date place better than this guy did (unwittingly, of course).  It's tiny (read: intimate) and crowded (read: popular).  Reservations are a must, unless you are feeling daring enough to take the risk and just show up (although, you will inevitably be waiting quite a while -- which we did at a nice place down the way called Betel).  I might even venture to say it's worth whatever wait you have to endure.  They know their wines.  They know their fish.  And boy do they know their side dishes.  This place was amazing, flavorful, and cute as button.  Perfect for a first, date, a last date, or any date in between...