I’ve been thinking a lot lately about technology, and how it affects our love lives, probably because I’ve been immersed in a project for one of my grad classes that involves writing a book proposal for a hypothetical book about – surprise, surprise – how technology has affected our love lives.
I was working on this project over the weekend, and, in a hunt for statistics on the number of Match.com subscribers (1.4 million as of June 2009, if you’re curious), found this web site, which offers information and user reviews on over fifty dating and matchmaking web sites. I was momentarily distracted from my homework (not that distracting me from homework is a particularly challenging task) by the sheer volume and specificity of these web sites. Sure, you have your big, brand-name general dating sites like Match and eHarmony, but if you want to narrow down your search for a soulmate by race/ethnic background, age group, religion, even income bracket, there’s a web site for you. There’s even a web site, PositiveSingles.com, for individuals living with STDs (because people with herpes need love too). (Sorry.)
Anyway, this discovery stopped me in my tracks because, as I sat there reading down the list, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “This is the most ass-backwards system I’ve ever heard of. We’re all trying to meet people and connect with others – by sitting alone in our houses, hunched over our computers, disengaged from society. What the hell is wrong with all of us?”
I echoed those thoughts later that night during my phone conversation with Ang. (If it seems like a lot of posts have recently come out of that Sunday night conversation, you’re absolutely right. In fact, Ang and I talked about how what we talked about would end up in this blog. Christ, even my life is meta now.) Anyhoo, Ang was telling me about how, on the train back to New Jersey after her date with her new gay boyfriend, she actually struck up a live, in-person conversation with an attractive young man (who was Ecuadorian, no less).
“And everybody else on the train must have thought I was crazy, because, you know, people don’t actually talk to each other anymore, let alone talk to a stranger,” Ang said.
I had to agree with her. “It’s so ridiculous,” I said. “People always say if you want to meet someone, to go to a coffeeshop or a park or wherever, but you go, and everybody’s sitting there by themselves, listening to their iPods, playing on their computers or iPhones or whatever the fuck thing everybody has these days, not talking to anyone else. It’s incredible. We have more ways of communicating and staying in touch than ever, and we’re still completely isolated.”
It’s the irony of the whole thing which just gets under my skin, I suppose. One has to imagine, that at some point in time, somewhere in this universe, in some coffeeshop or classroom or city park, two lonely, single strangers have sat, mere feet or maybe even inches apart from each other, yet completely unaware of the other’s presence – probably because they’re both too busy plowing through Match.com profiles. And that, my friends, is the definition of fucking irony.
I’m not trying to hate on the Internet in general, or dating web sites in particular. I’m in no position to judge, having been a paying member of Match for a year; it can’t hurt to have as many irons in the fire as possible, I always say. But it’s a slippery slope, as we all retreat further and further into the isolated, virtual world to find connections, forgetting that there is a whole great big bustling REAL world too, and that your potential soulmate may be out there – maybe even on the train seat next to you.
kristenm129
