Internet Dating Blues

This piece over at Raw Story really resonated with me. I'm sure many people who don't look like men are subjected to demands for their attention, and sulking when that attention is refused. It's not always a big deal, of course. If you have attention to spare, if you're in the mood for it, if you feel like engaging. But the problem is that you don't always have attention to spare, and you don't always feel like engaging. That's when it becomes apparent that you don't actually have a choice in these matters: if you withhold or withdraw your attention, things can get ugly fast.

Sometimes they don't even get particularly ugly, just banally irritating - like this exchange with a sweet looking fellow on OKCupid:

His profile suggested he was going to have time to kill in London and was looking to meet some new people. I thought we might get on. But then I forgot to reply to him - you know, life happened, like it does. For a start, I thought his reply, although keen, was brief enough that I shouldn't push it. Surely, I thought, if he wanted to meet up he might have said something more than that? Something encouraging, like "are you free later in the week?" or "I'd really love to check out this picnic spot!". Something which gave me something to reply to. OKCupid is not like trying to set up a job interview, you know? I'd like there to be mutual enthusiasm. It's not like I'm thinking "ok, I'm no catch on paper, but just a foot in the door: just agree to meet me and I'll blow your mind!" I'm thinking, "this guy wants to meet people, I like meeting people: let's see how it goes." I'm not doing him a favour, and he's not doing me a favour.

So time passed; I thought nothing more of it. But then I got another message from him, and not one which inspired good feelings. It sounded whiny and self-pitying. But I did feel bad about not replying, and when I checked his profile again, I discovered that he'd been the victim of a crime. He's in a strange city, he doesn't know anyone, and he's been robbed. And then this chick on the internet totally didn't reply to his message! After all, I had initiated contact with him. I owed him, right? So I responded, and prompted the charming little exchange where, somehow, I have started trying to persuade him to see me. Here's the times I'm free: pick one! I have no money. I'll pay! I'm too busy.

I didn't really do anything wrong in not responding to him. It's a dating website, right? That's how it works. But now I feel like he's doing me a favour if he agrees to meet with me. His first message back to me states that it's ok that he never heard back from me, except for how his life is a mess and his trip to London has been a fail, and now there's no time for anything good to happen ever. Now, I can see he's upset, but am I alone in also seeing this as a little manipulative? A little bit cheap? "I'm really sad and it's partly your fault. Placate me." It worked. My reply is conciliatory; rather pathetically so. I want to make things better. He is seeming to imply that meeting me would make it better, so I suggest that we meet.

It's a clever little trick, no matter how unintentional. I have apologised when there's really nothing I should be sorry for, and I've tried to fit myself to his requirements for meeting despite the fact that I'm not that desperate to meet him. I wonder now if regaining the power in this particular situation made him feel better. I really would have met up with him - I'd even have bought him a drink. But there are some little red flags going up in my mind, and they're to do with that demand for attention that Marcotte anatomises so well.

If someone doesn't respond to your attentions - be they internet dating messages, 'hello' on the tube, 'can I buy you a drink' etc - they've got reasons. You should trust them. You're not owed any response at all, and you're certainly not owed any positive response. By putting yourself out there, that's the risk you take. You might get a smile, a reply, a cup of coffee; you might not. Move on. If you make a polite request for attention, and get refused, nobody is going to think worse of you. It's when you graduate from polite requests to hammering on the metaphorical door with your fists, or resorting to underhanded methods to gain admittance that people are going to think worse of you. I don't take kindly to being manipulated into reopening contact with someone. It has made me exponentially less likely to meet this guy. Even if he'd just followed up with something like "hey, are you still up for that drink?" I would have likely replied with enthusiasm. It's the suggestion that I owe him something that has rubbed me the wrong way. My lack of response seems to be on the list of "wrongs that the world has done me". And while being a pain in the arse on a dating website is universal behaviour, treating a person as if they are an object that the world owes you is definitely gendered behaviour.

Let me be totally clear: I'm not accusing random OKCupid guy of that. I'm not labelling him a misogynist or demanding his head on a silver platter. I'm simply pointing out that there is a continuum of behaviours in which women are treated as objects on a list of things that the guy gets if he plays the game well - a good job, a nice car, a pretty wife - and that his behaviour plays into those tropes all too well. The saddest thing is that it worked on me. I played along, until I came to my senses and remembered that I don't owe anyone anything. That it's not my fault that things have gone wrong, and that I'm not merely a sweet reward in the game of life.

Casual Honesty

During a casual date a few weeks ago, I screwed up my courage for an awkward conversation. I knew it needed to be said, and I knew I had to be the one to start the conversation, so I did. I told T that I really liked her and enjoyed spending time together, but that I wasn't sure that I was attracted to her. I said that didn't mean that I wouldn't be in the future (since I'm a slow-burning lad and my romantic/sexual feelings tend to develop over a long period of knowing someone (and yes, that has caused all sorts of problems in my life!)), but that right now I wasn't feeling it and didn't know if I would at all. I told her that I wanted to make my feelings clear, so that we would both know where we stood if we decided to meet again.

Now, my motivations were clear in my head. I like T, I think she's huge fun, great company, right on my wave length politically, and hilarious with it. I want to see her again. But we had met originally through OKCupid, where we were both looking for, amongst other things, romantic dates and casual sex. And something she said after the first time we met had made me think that she liked me 'in that way'. So I wanted, for both our sakes, to be totally honest about how I felt, so that if we decided to meet again, she wouldn't be disappointed if we didn't get romantic or sexual, and I wouldn't be worried that she'd be disappointed if we didn't get romantic or sexual!

T's response was unexpected but pleasing: she told me that she felt the same; that she wasn't sure if she was romantically or sexually interested in me, but enjoyed hanging out just the same. So the awkward conversation wasn't awkward after all - I was quite happy to believe that I had misread the situation and that T and I were cool to keep seeing each other, with no pressure on either side, and nobody would be disappointed if we remained non-romantic or -sexual. I think we're both happy with that - I met her earlier this week, as a matter of fact, and we had a lovely time chilling in the sun on the South Bank.

However, this situation has made me think about the generalities of casual dating, and the thin ice of 'honest' conversations in these contexts. I thought I was doing the responsible thing by making my intentions (such as they are) clear - I don't like stringing anyone along, and I hate the idea of unintentionally hurting someone by doing it by mistake. So, what's the solution? Tell people what you're thinking. Guilt-free dating, and nobody gets hurt. But flip that coin over, and what have you got? A selfish desire to have your cake and eat it too.

Bear with me. How can honesty be selfish? Here's how: by telling T that I like her, but don't like her, I am giving her a bald choice. I am laying down the law. "We can still see each other, but don't cross the line. The line is here - if you want to see me again, this is what you do." To me this sounds like pressure - pressure of the kind that I was, ironically, trying to avoid by being honest. Because, really, if T is interested, how can she respond to that? "I do fancy you, actually, but I guess we'll continue meeting up as friends and I'll keep my fingers crossed that you develop sexy feelings for me." Not such an easy thing to say, is it? Not if you're interested in keeping that casual vibe, or if you in turn don't want to put pressure on your date. Plus, come on, there's probably some embarrassment here. We're all very cool, very grown-up, and look at us talking about our feelings! - but there's a nervous kid in all of us, scared to put ourselves out there too much in case we're smacked down. Really, T would have to be super brave to respond to my 'I'm not interested' with 'I am interested'. So what I've done is force from T the only possible response to my declaration, regardless of how she actually feels. If she truly isn't interested, or isn't yet interested but thinks she might be in the future - great. If, on the other hand, she thinks she's interested, what I've done by making her aware of my lack of interest is ensured that she can't be honest about it. By telling her the truth, I can retain my 'casual, relaxed date' approach with impunity, having eased my conscience by 'being honest', but not actually risked hearing anything that I don't want to hear. See? Selfish.

The merit of demystification is a subject deeply entangled in progressive dating. I am in favour of honesty - all honesty all the time. But, alongside the various ethical questions that surround this approach (should I tell my friend I think their beard isn't doing them any favours, should I tell my boyfriend that I fancy his friend, should I tell my partner the details of my sex with other people etc) there is also a question about the romance of it. This comes up a lot in consent debates, too - is taking a 'plain speech' approach to consent sexy? (my answer: it can be, it depends on how you do it, and it sure beats the alternative whether it's sexy or not!) When it comes to casual dating, perhaps there's an optimum level of honesty, somewhere between coy glances, mind games and putting your hand in a strategic position hoping that they will take it, and "I fancy you, some sex would be great, can I put a date in my diary for our first kiss?"

In all seriousness, though, I don't know how casual this casual dating thing can be. I do like a bit of mystery - do they like me? what did they mean by that text? are they going to kiss me? - but at the same time, I feel we owe it to each other to be as gentle as possible, and sometimes that's going to mean making clear your feelings before somebody gets hurt.

Valentine

Three years ago I was bought dinner, new headphones, chocolates and a bottle of Laphroaig on Valentine's Day. I tried so hard to like that person. I still feel bad for not liking them as much as they liked me.

This year I am not being bought anything at all, and I don't have to try to like hir - I just do.

I am thankful for that, if not for this silly holiday.