But so far online dating has been anything but difficult. Talk about myself (no problem), answer numerous nonsensical emails (that’s basically my everyday job description) and get hit on — all from the comfort of my own home.
The notion of online dating came about when a fellow Guardian editor asked me to share my thoughts on the phenomenon. I wasn’t sure if her question was prompted due to her own personal manhunt (turns out that it was) or if it was her sneaky way of proposing a column idea (it was not, but so it became). I quickly replied to her instant message with a “don’t knock it ‘till you try it” type response, along with the personal note that I had not tried it thus far due to my lingering “hopeless romantic sentiment.” Now, this sentiment definitely still exists. But if I find my Romeo in a trite yet intimate Parisian scene or over a cup of coffee at Peet’s (in broad daylight might I add), isn’t he Romeo nonetheless?
But once I created my profile, I quickly began to notice some things about the slew of twenty-something San Diego boys online. First, I learned that intuition is going to be a key factor in making this experience successful. With only a few hundred words and a handful of photos to make a decent first impression, many of these guys aren’t using their best judgment when it comes to leaving out details about their World of Warcraft habits and choosing photos that aren’t taken in front of their bathroom mirrors.
After some browsing, I next realized that my intuition is more shallow than I’d like to admit. I began to wonder if these men even lead lives outside of their laptops. But if anything, OkCupid was to blame. After taking a few personal quiz questions (i.e. Would you rather be the big spoon or little spoon? Do you believe in God? etc.), the website quickly weeds out all the potential suitors that don’t fit your interests through their matching process. So once I answered my fair share of questions, I was left with a long list of atheist big spoons and the only thing left to do was look at their photos. How could you not be superficial? All the work was done for me.
Now before we get too far into this social experiment, let’s get a few things clear. I will not openly discuss said newspaper column with said dates but I will not lie about my affiliation with the Guardian (because let’s be real, that’s usually the first thing my subconscious blathers out). And I will in no way sacrifice my personal morals for the sake of this column. That means I will not send or positively respond to winky face emoticons. I will not have sex on the first date and I will in no circumstance respond to someone whose profile states they are good at “playing with yo’ vaginal receptacle!” (true story) or with the initial message “hey dorky! you the random type?” (also another painfully true story). And I will carry pepper spray.
As a young woman on a dating website, much of my experience was predestined. A week into my OkCupid experience, I had already done exactly what one of the cofounders of OkCupid would later suggest in his welcome email; I had contacted the guys I was interested in.
With a plethora of men that seemed less than appealing, I had found a grand total of two guys I found both attractive and interesting. I did my best to reply to the litter of suspiciously vague yet complimentary messages from users on the site (many of which I later compared with coworkers’ messages to find that the ambiguity was a mere way of disguising a mass message we had all received). But the two coffee dates I’ve already set up upon my return to San Diego were both initiated by me. So loyal readers, wish me luck as I embark on the dubious journey that is online dating. And if I miss my deadline or don’t answer my phone, just know that I was last seen with musicluvr21 from Escondido.
