Initially, this column was going to be about the advantages of online dating Web sites and the economic cost-benefit analysis. Yes, I had broken down my own experience last month to see if it was worth the financial investment. Hey, I am a College of Education graduate teaching assistant, which means I am a master of fiscal frugality. However, you may be curious of my “rate of return.”
For a one-month membership on a dating site to remain anonymous, I forked up $34.99.
My computational methodology is top secret, but I calculated my return at $2.50 per response, 12 total. I think it was good investment being that they all met minimum requirements (same religion, age range, not living at home, gainfully employed, one or more college degrees, etc.). In collegiate calculations, for the price a six-pack, I had two sober conversations of some sort and without the associated fuzzy-yet-familiar hangover.
The probability of chance would lend itself to stating, “You’ll never have those odds at any Columbus bar/coffee shop/other meet market.” Although I have had some phone conversations with a few, I still did not have any further success. However, I also did not worry about rejection. For many guys, one failure is about all they can take before retreating back to their trenches. Online dating saves you the awkward rejections you may receive in a face to face situation. Plus we see all the supposed true stories of internet dating success on TV. Who would not want to join Match.com or EHarmony.com? It seems almost too good to be true.
Now I have to preface here that I am not part of the Facebook generation, which seems to be a great place to meet people. If I were under 25, I would be likely having carpal tunnel from my time spent on it. So for me, online dating for a busy academic was worth trying.
Reading for my cultural studies in education class, I came across a two-page section on modern dating in Michael Lerner’s book, “The Left Hand of God.” This made me question what the heck I was doing. Lerner says today’s internet dating is about marketplace dynamics in the form of shopping and selling. You plug in what criteria you want and instantly out pops a virtual list of available “items.” If you have a lousy profile, you will sit on the shelf for a long time, lonely and cynical.
Up until this, I really liked the internet dating buffet. Sure, I was not exactly having five-star meals, but the options out there seemed really encouraging, even if they all seemed to be in New York. The criteria search list I created seemed like an excellent screening process. I know what I wanted (or more likely, what I did not want) in a partner and up popped potential matches. Brilliant! However, it also put in my head that I could afford to be even more picky than I normally was because perhaps the next day, more women would magically appear in my match list. I found myself also looking in geographic areas outside Columbus just to see what else was out there. Soon, it did seem like a weird window shopping experience. I felt jaded. I also expected to be contacted more than I was and become more neurotic than normal. I questioned my profile – “Should I rewrite this … (again)?” “Do I need a better picture?” “What the heck am I competing against on here?”
I became over-analytical. “I think I am much better in person anyway.”
Anyway, internet dating caters to our all-you-can-eat mentality; we believe if we wait, a better version of General Tso’s will come along. I realized that while online dating can have some entertainment value, it still does not replace, much less compare, to the face to face possibilities.
Seth Fishman His best dating advice ever received: “Don’t fish off the company pier.” He can be reached at [email protected].
