Tucked away in my files is a three-part series on online dating. I spent much time and energy writing it. It is exhaustive and reflective and I think entertaining.
It will never see the light of day.
Rather than get into individual personalities, I will give you the executive summary: Online dating blows. It exudes huge chunks of unadulterated suckiness.
It is well-intentioned but ultimately destructive. A few people find love, but it seems to leave many bitter, disappointed, angry, and confused. Several women I met have confirmed this.
It is mostly numbers-driven. OkCupid, for instance, reduces the essence of complicated human beings to single number that allegedly represents some sort of compatibility.
Online dating is built on a false premise, that attraction is solely a matter of shared interests, desires, and needs. It boils out the reality of the inexplicable, that attraction derives also from seemingly insignificant details:
I knew a woman who turned me on whenever she stood close, looked up, and crossed her eyes. Another I find irresistible because of the contour of the little piece of flesh between the nose and the lips. A former lover’s appeal endures in the chiding/teasing phrase, oh stop!
If you have any talent for writing an interesting invitation, online dating can propel you through a parade of encounters that will, by definition, involve a series of rejections until you find a suitable partner. (I write under the assumption that you seek a significant other. If you are just looking to get laid, online dating may well be your best bet.)
The rejections, confusions, miscommunications, and outright lies have left me tired, angry, and disgusted. I have found myself apportioning blame to an entire gender, society, and God, a habit unconducive to happy living. It has eroded the most important thing in my life: my serenity. I am left drained and pessimistic about my chances and disgusted by the electronic mediation of desire.
I will content myself with my writing, photography, church, and visiting my friends and family. If there is to be another great love, Cupid knows where to find me, and I remain arrowable.
Unless, of course, I contract a serious case of the what-the-hells. And sign up again.