Online and mobile dating may be the de facto way now for singles to connect, but is swiping right killing the charm of courtship? TRACY LEE and JASON GODFREY weigh in.
Online and mobile dating may be the de facto way now for singles to connect, but is swiping right killing the charm of courtship? TRACY LEE and JASON GODFREY weigh in.
LOVE, LOST IN CYBERSPACE
If you’re beyond 35, looking for the love of your life on the Internet may be as inefficient as dumpster diving in the hopes of finding truffles and caviar, says TRACY LEE.
The first time I set eyes on a dating app, I cried. Over girlie drinks one evening, my pal had whipped out her phone to show me her matches on a dating app. There were dozens of choices, but many were so not her type. Guy A had thought it a good idea to post six profile photos of himself barechested, beer in hand. “Doesn’t he own any shirts?” I asked, mystified. Guy B’s wasn’t much better – his selfle captured him in all his triplechinned glory, belted up in a driver’s seat. “He’s broadcasting he owns a set of wheels, but it’s not that great a car or he’d be posing in front of it,” I opined. And, I kid you not, Guy C’s showed him squatting on grass, beside a sheep’s butt. “Why would anyone think this picture is even vaguely attractive? Who are these weirdos?” I said, guffawing as I wiped away tears of laughter.
MISS MATCHED, OR MISMATCHED?
The last time I dated was in 2001, when online dating was derided as a domain for the desperate and the damned. Now, single again at 43, I feel like the romantic equivalent of Rip Van Winkle, having awoken from a decadeslong slumber to a changed world – one where it’s perfectly normal for singles to scroll or swipe their way through Tinder, Match.com, Okcupid, Bumble and Happn. My girlfriends bandy about lingo such as ghosting and benching, but their laments are the same old ones. Many men are just looking for sex. Good men are hard to find. The best ones are taken. When you finally find someone you like, he’s just not that into you. Out of curiosity, I browse women’s profiles on a dating website to have a look at the competition my friends (and perhaps I) are up against. What greets me: buxom babes in bikinis; homely lasses in glasses; women who look like they could be your auntie’s domestic helper. The online dating arena seems, to me, like a chaotic, overcrowded marketplace that’s more Taobao than Net-a-porter! And this troubles me greatly. My girlfriends are smart and funny; special. But in this tsunami of options, it’s almost impossible to suss out an individual’s unique charm as your attention is immediately drawn to the top five best-looking individuals. The hardest thing for me to stomach, though, is the mismatch between promise and reality. Online dating is built on the same premise as online shopping, but the wholeworld- at-your-fingertips variety and convenience can backfire. Unlike in a retail situation, where one party is a buyer and the other, a seller, online daters are both. You may want to “buy” from someone who refuses to “sell”, or vice versa, which could make date-shopping really frustrating. The seemingly endless options, too, seem to make people pickier even as they delay making a choice. And where’s the quality control or money-back guarantee when you encounter a lemon?
JUST NOT CONVINCED
What’s more, online dating over-serves those who need it least (women in their 20s) while under-serving the ones who need it most: women in their mid-30s and older who are looking for a serious relationship. According to dating site Okcupid, men of all ages favour women in their early 20s, while women prefer men of the same age. It also seems that those who meet in cyberspace have different attitudes towards love and commitment. In a study conducted by the Michigan State University on 4,000 couples, those who first connected via the Internet were 28 per cent more likely to break up within the first year of getting together, compared to those who connected via more conventional methods – such as through friends’ introductions, work, hobbies or socialising. So I’m really, really not sure about online dating. When every single single person is out there, everyone is (pardon the mixed metaphors) searching for needles in haystacks while clutching at straws. I much prefer getting my friends to set me up or asking a handsome stranger in a cafe what sandwich he’s having. Perhaps I’ll even sign up for activities that let me meet five to 10 real guys at a time. And if you know anyone aged 43 to 55 who is smart, funny, relatively neat and taller than 1.75m, and enjoys golf, movies, travelling and reading, send him my way.
WHERE’S THE ROMANCE?
How’s a guy supposed to get to know a girl better when he’s trying to get to know dozens of them all at once, wonders JASON GODFREY.
Tinder, Okcupid, stalking girls on Instagram, inspecting someone’s semiprivate moments on Facebook – these are the ways through which my single friend meets girls. “Look,” he says, holding up his phone to show me a photo of a pretty brunette grinning with just the right mix of girl-next-door and stripper. “She’s cute,” I say. “I’m going to meet her, but all her pics are from the neck up,” he replies, frowning. “Well, she’s cute,” I offer. “Or she’s hiding her body,” he concludes knowingly. “Cos she’s got three legs or something.” He swipes and shows me a couple more photos. A blonde. Another brunette.
WHERE’S THE ROMANCE?
“I’m talking to these girls too,” he says. Welcome to the age of factory-assemblyline dating. LIKE A SEXY CHEWBACCA In some ways, I’m insanely jealous of my friend. I’ve got a girlfriend, in an era where swiping right can result in true love, an exciting sexual encounter, or at the very least, an awkward coffee date. Never has the motion of a finger pointed to so many potentially enticing outcomes. “What are you typing?” I ask my friend when he messages a girl for the first time on Tinder. “You look sexy, like a sexy Chewbacca,” he replies with a grin. “If I get a response, I know she’s got a sense of humour and likes Star Wars.” Sound logic, I suppose. Though he can tell from the way I’m looking at him that I think it seems a bit juvenile. “Hey, I need to stand out,” he explains. “You start off by telling a girl she’s pretty, want to meet for dinner and you can kiss meeting her goodbye.” He’s right, but the complimentand- ask-out approach has been dead since forever. For years now, men have had to find novel and creative ways to approach girls in nightclubs. I watch him swipe out of Tinder and move on to Okcupid, where he does the same thing to another handful of girls, before searching profiles and doing it all over again. I realise putting yourself out there in nightclubs was never this efficient. This is Tinder-age love, where you meet lots of girls, assess them, then move on, like a Big Box outlet looking to hire cashiers. It’s systematic, efficient. The way androids would look for someone to spend the rest of their battery life with. Definitely not the most romantic way to find your soulmate.
WHAT’S ROMANCE GOT TO DO WITH IT?
Maybe that’s inevitable in the cynical digital age we live in. A lot is lost in a few strings of text sent over the Internet. The smile before you say the line; the way a girl tucks her hair behind her ear when she responds; that point where you’re looking straight into someone’s eyes before one of you glances away, nervous and excited at the same time. All that’s gone and all that’s left is “You look sexy, like a sexy Chewbacca”. “Romantic” is a tough balance to strike in real life, and near impossible between online strangers. At best, it comes across as corny. At worst, it’s sad, maybe creepy. Sincere online is just lame. So all that’s left is a bunch of guys trying to stand out from the crowd by being ever more sarcastically clever, ever more reference-dropping, ever more kitsch. Because playing it right means acting like you don’t care at all. Does this mean romance is dead? Sure. In the initial stages of dating. Like it’s always been. Showing up at your date’s door with flowers and a speech about how she’s the most special person you’ve ever met and you’ve been thinking about her non-stop since you got her number while waiting in line to top up your MRT card is coming on a little strong. Romantic has always been reserved for when two people actually know each other, when the romance can actually be real. Because it comes from sincerity, which comes from knowing. Not from perving photos people post of themselves or laughing at the pseudointellectual arty comments they make on Instagram. The Tinder Age of Love is undoubtedly shallow and about appearances, but that’s what dating has always been about. Spread your feathers like a peacock and you’ll be noticed. Get shallow first, and the romance comes later. And if it doesn’t? You message another handful of people on Tinder and hope for the best.
