Dating The Masses

I was once one of you. I was one of the masses who shunned online dating, pegging it to be either for those incapable of finding a "real" date, those who are more than slightly ugly, or those who suffer from social anxiety. That was until I wound up crossing over. 

It started out as an experiment- solely for journalism, only to be used to gain knowledge for this piece. I planned on bashing my horrible dating experience, reveling in how he was thirty and lived in his parent's basement, dishing out a plethora of scathing remarks to intent readers. Sorry folks, I was thwarted. I, Lauren, Master of Bad Dates ended up going on one of the best dates of my entire young adult life.

It wasnt supposed to be enjoyable. Mr. Underachiever was supposed to show up badly dressed, foul smelling, and with a lack of conversational skills. It turns out, Mr. Underachiever was replaced with an ultra-intelligent, ultra-thoughtful and -- admittedly -- ultra-good looking individual. We floated merrily through our night of cocktails and conversation, causing each other to buckle with laughter and revel at just how much we had it common.

Before going on my internet-date, I told no one of my plans. Friends would mock me.  My conservative parents would be horrified. My siblings would be merciless. I dodged all evening-plan-queries with I think tonights a take-out/movie night for me. Of course, they all nodded in approval, accepting my pitiful lie. Ha, how easy it was to foil them!

The buildup leading to the date was absolutely excruciating. All through an hour and a half of my prep time rituals (shower, makeup, you know how it is) I was shaking like a scared, pathetic dog. Get a grip! Youre a freaking adult! I yelled at myself in my bathroom mirror.

Adult or no adult, I nearly flaked and left the poor man sitting by himself at the trendy restaurants bar, buying himself seven dollar cocktails. However, because first and foremost, I am a writer and writers always get their stories, I buckled up and went. On my terrifying drive to the restaurant, swaddled in fear, guilt, and anticipation, I cursed myself for not picking an easier story. Why not write about crocheting? People like crocheting as much as they like hearing about Dates-Gone-Wildright? As much as I tried to ease myself into believing that, I just couldnt accept it. I would go, have my horrible date, be ridiculed, go home, write an incredibly witty and entertaining story about my trials and tribulations with internet-dating and be done with it.

I apologize for things turning out the way they did. Im sorry for not supplying you with laughable fodder and instead, smacking you over the head with the proverbial Love Stick.

While many will go disappointed, the weary might gain enough confidence to try this nerve-racking experiment. I urge you people stuck in eternal Singledomtry it, if only once. Worst case scenario: he does turn out to be unemployed, uneducated and unattractive. So what? You can at least say you gave it a shot. Best case scenario? You had an experience of my sort. The date goes by flawlessly, conversation is in full bloom and sexual tension is quite apparent. Then you can skip merrily home from your little jaunt and one day tell your grandchildren how grandma and grandpa met. If thats a bit too optimistic to fathom for you realists and cynics out there, youll at least get a second date or a bit of action! What right-minded person says no to that?

Go on, my little saplings! Take a chance, give love (or lust) a go, put yourself on the line. At the risk of sounding like a wise old prophetyoull never find love, or anything for that matter, sitting on your couch watching Friends re-runs. Take my little backfired experiment for example: two young singles, in the quest of love (or a really entertaining satirical story, on my part) come together by force of computer, elated with the buzz of alcoholic beverages, talking to each other as if theyll never get the chance to open up their mouths again, closing down the bar, then closing down the after-hours bar and ending with the promise of another date the following night. Sound a little Cinderella-ish? Maybe, but in my case, it was all just a long overdue reality. It was something Ive been deserving of for many years; holing myself up in bars trying to meet a respectable man. Now I ask you -- is using the internet for a date any more shady than pimping yourself at a bar? I think not

The moral of the story: take a chance for once and go on that unthinkable, vehemently feared internet-date. I promise you wont die! Well, at least if you meet in a very public place: hey, there are a lot of psychos out there. Hell, if it turns out to be gut-wrenchingly horrible, you can always take my route; write an amusing story about it, sit back and reap the profits.

 

 

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