no. 08 : The Rush of Love in the Modern Era, and an Appeal
There is this impulse to be understood. It is secondary to this, though, in this moment, sitting across the table meeting a someone for the first time, navigating through expectations and preconceived notions derived from reading a profile and flipping through an assortment of photos. Hoping that someone will be a Someone, and suspecting, that, once again, she will not be. Knowing, also, she is fumbling her way through the same set of thoughts and feelings, or at least hoping that's the case. Perhaps she's quick to decide, her pragmatism sending you on your way after she's thrown down a drink, with a "Well, this was interesting at least." Summarily dismissed. Kicked to the curb, as it were.
This game, this dance of never ending partners, this self prescribed torture of meeting of someone new. Someone new and maybe at the end of this interview, of the same set of questions with a varied set of answers, there will be a "Yes, let's do this again." The hope is to hear it, and more so, to say it, and in saying it to mean it.
Second dates and rushes to intimacy. I don't know you, but we should mash our faces together like it means something. If you make it past the second date, there is often a text waiting. "You are nice. We should just be friends." What do we owe each other past a text? It's how this began, after all, a few lines in an email. There is no connection, and so off we go with few typed words, on to the next.
What I think is we're giving ourselves the short shrift. We have no time to get to know each other, and so we do not afford it to the person on the other side of the table. It's easy to tell on a first date if it's a crash and burn, but it is difficult to sort out whether this meeting of two people could work. Kissing someone is hardly evidence as it's a specific form of communication, one that is easily indulged and enjoyed. The kiss, however, is better when it has knowing behind it. Knowing only comes with time and presence in each other's company.
I'd like to suggest a time out, for all of us seeking love in digital dating realm, to proclaim a truce. "If the first date is not the worst thing that ever happened to either of us, how about the second date be about talking more and getting to know each other a bit better?" Can we forego the mash of mixed signals kissing and its related activities convey until we know and like each other a little more? Intimacy is, well, intimate, and that should be the realm of those who feel safe in each other's presence.
Insanity, right, my proposal? Who has time for it? Move on. There's something better around the corner, over the next cocktail. Disposable bodies and faces, but what do we have at the end? Frustration, most likely, and a few good stories to tell, at best.
The ideal opportunity is a gathering of friends and their friends, chatter over food and drinks. Space to try to figure this thing out, without the pressure to decide, without the erecting of walls to retreat behind at the first sign of, "Erm. I don't know."
I am fashioned old fashioned, I admit. Perhaps my ego says, "I am human and I feel this way, so others must as well, as they are humans too." Perhaps I am wrong.
Chalk this up to food for thought, then. An idea thrown out. Until next time. Over drinks, ok?
This game, this dance of never ending partners, this self prescribed torture of meeting of someone new. Someone new and maybe at the end of this interview, of the same set of questions with a varied set of answers, there will be a "Yes, let's do this again." The hope is to hear it, and more so, to say it, and in saying it to mean it.
Second dates and rushes to intimacy. I don't know you, but we should mash our faces together like it means something. If you make it past the second date, there is often a text waiting. "You are nice. We should just be friends." What do we owe each other past a text? It's how this began, after all, a few lines in an email. There is no connection, and so off we go with few typed words, on to the next.
What I think is we're giving ourselves the short shrift. We have no time to get to know each other, and so we do not afford it to the person on the other side of the table. It's easy to tell on a first date if it's a crash and burn, but it is difficult to sort out whether this meeting of two people could work. Kissing someone is hardly evidence as it's a specific form of communication, one that is easily indulged and enjoyed. The kiss, however, is better when it has knowing behind it. Knowing only comes with time and presence in each other's company.
I'd like to suggest a time out, for all of us seeking love in digital dating realm, to proclaim a truce. "If the first date is not the worst thing that ever happened to either of us, how about the second date be about talking more and getting to know each other a bit better?" Can we forego the mash of mixed signals kissing and its related activities convey until we know and like each other a little more? Intimacy is, well, intimate, and that should be the realm of those who feel safe in each other's presence.
Insanity, right, my proposal? Who has time for it? Move on. There's something better around the corner, over the next cocktail. Disposable bodies and faces, but what do we have at the end? Frustration, most likely, and a few good stories to tell, at best.
The ideal opportunity is a gathering of friends and their friends, chatter over food and drinks. Space to try to figure this thing out, without the pressure to decide, without the erecting of walls to retreat behind at the first sign of, "Erm. I don't know."
I am fashioned old fashioned, I admit. Perhaps my ego says, "I am human and I feel this way, so others must as well, as they are humans too." Perhaps I am wrong.
Chalk this up to food for thought, then. An idea thrown out. Until next time. Over drinks, ok?
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