Category: #toomuchtexting

Boy 9: Troll

You’re an economist, and you win most texting.

Thousands sent, EASILY, thousands,before we actually met. Probably because I was bored on a plane, and you were bored… ’cause that’s your default state? But no spoilers.

It’s not surprising that I thought you might be a troll.

The theme of our texting was basically… disappointment. How disappointing it’s going to be to actually meet in person. It’s funny in a morbid kind of way. Endearing nihilism… turns out you’ve been online dating for five years. I am easily fascinated… who is this internet veteran? An excellent date or a horrifying dud?

Lots of meta-Hinging about horrible dates, Jewish jokes, innuendo… Banter: high. Substance: low. I guess I did figure out that you’re bilingual like me. That’s sexy.

We settle on a date for when I return from work that’s post-Passover Seder.

Even after logistics have been confirmed, the texting continues. Selfies… sarcasm. What’s the best way to disappoint each other, hmmm?

Somewhere in this conversation, I drop the fact that I have a new dealbreaker. I will not get emotionally/sexually involved (in any capacity) with a guy who hasn’t told someone that they love them romantically. Everything else I can wrap my head around, but at this point, if you haven’t loved someone and differentiated that personal maze for yourself, then I’m not going to provide you with a training ground. And I want you to recognize your own limitations and preferences within our dynamic/relationship and whether it’s casual or serious or anything in between.

You assure me that you were with someone for a year…***

After many pithy little comments about how it might be better not to meet and preserve what we have projected on each other, we finally meet. At one of my favorite bars in NYC: ArtBar.

Boy 9, you basically look like your picture. Not quite. B+.

I ask you questions about your job. You answer them. You seem to care about it. You work on economic proposals for an environmentally-conscious firm. But you work remotely which means you work and live alone… somehow jokes about oral sex get made and that you give it poorly. Or not at all. Yellow flag.

You ask me about my work. I answer a bit. We get derailed with peripheral and tangential jokes…

Interesting thing about you, Boy 9. The excessive texting did actually reflect you well. Banter: high. Substance: low. In person and via text.

But let’s get back to disappointment. We had discussed many things, including but not limited to the fact that you tend to kiss on first dates, and 8/8 of boys texted me after the first date but did not kiss me! So, I was expecting you to kiss me if I didn’t “disappoint.” Am I crazy?

You don’t kiss me! But you do walk me all the way across town instead of taking the subway.

I get on the bus. Text me, I say.

I want to thank you:

  1. You’re weird. I haven’t really met any truly strange birds. I like that you put yourself out there.
  2. You’re a fascinating manifestation of online dating culture–you’ve been on the apps for years–and the way it reflects the deep loneliness many professions can cultivate. Troll isn’t quite right, but it isn’t quite wrong, either. You work alone (computers make the work remote), you live alone (one bedrooms mean you’re more successful), and you date alone (apps mean a revolving digital door of strangers). I see your solitude, and I am grateful for my community.

Boy 9, I could sleep with you but only out of morbid curiosity and that unhealthy teaspoon of self-destruction that every hopeless neurotic contains.

UPDATE: You text instantly. It’s weird. The texting continues… I accuse you of disliking me because you didn’t kiss me. You accuse me of recoiling when you made physical contact with me. I don’t remember you touching me… good sign, right?

Somehow a second date is scheduled. Wondering if it was disappointing? You have no idea. I guess I’m a glutton for murky disappointment. I’ll follow a story all the way to Brooklyn. More on that later.

***Turns out to not be accurate, later, unsurprisingly…

Boy 1: Passionate Enough

So, I feel bad for Boy 1. It wasn’t his fault that he was Boy 1. Somebody had to be Boy 1, and it’s not easy to be Boy 1.

In case you don’t know, you don’t really swipe on Hinge. You choose an X or a heart. So, after I signed up, I spent an evening X-ing and heart-ing, and I matched with Boy 1. He had hearted one of my photos. As a response to one of his prompts, he claimed to be into “ambition.” Ok, I can roll with that. I’m a pretty ambitious girl. We bantered very briefly and then I dropped in my number. Again, remember, I’m so new, and I’m so fresh… why not, I thought?

He immediately jumped over to texting. Turns out we’re both very busy. That’s cool. AMBITIOUS, I daresay. He’s got a corporate job, basically, and I’m freelance. This was also very exciting to me: I’m meeting someone outside of my community! So after a very long text chain that lasts a few days (including daily check-ins) we plan a date.

Now. I have to pause and say… the long text chain was very cute at first. I was into it, but I was (and remain) perplexed. Texting is such a strange medium. It’s strange enough and hard enough to interpret when you’re already seeing someone in the flesh, but texting someone you haven’t met yet? Whose pheromones you haven’t tested against yours? Isn’t this wildly inefficient? Like wouldn’t it be better (once normalcy of some kind has been established) to move as quickly as possible to face-to-face meeting?

Our date was for a few days from when we chose it, but then I had an evening open up. I was coming off an illness and planning to hang in the neighborhood we both happened to live in, so I said, hey, let’s meet tonight for a drink instead? And he offered a movie at his place instead of a bar because he knew I was under the weather. First thought: oh dear, he might kill me? Also, is he expecting us to have sex right away? I voiced the first concern but not the second one. He assured me he wouldn’t kill me; I found a mutual friend of ours on Facebook and did some Google searching, and I decided I could meet him. Also, he lives in my neighborhood… famous last words of all New York City residents.

So, we met.

So, Boy 1.

Listen.

I don’t really have a physical type. I have dated many men of different types. That being said, it is very important that your picture reflect what you actually look like. After meeting Boy 1, I sent my profile to a couple of trusted friends asking them to please let me know if these pictures are misleading. I don’t want anyone to be wildly surprised when they see me. I don’t think you were wildly surprised when you saw me, Boy 1, but I was a little surprised when I saw you.

And when you write your height, please make that accurate, too. My father is much shorter than my mother, and I have dated men who are shorter than me. But if we’re going to use a digital app in which our heights are indicated, please be honest about your height. I am 5’6” and I have now learned that any man who says he is under 6’0” (5’8” seems to be the go-to) is actually 5’4”… and that’s totally fine! Height is genetically predetermined! I will date you if you are short and otherwise awesome. I will not date you simply if you are tall; in fact, I’ve dated many tall men. I might have a predisposition against it at this point. The point is that it’s not a dealbreaker for me, but I would like to come into the face-to-face meet up with an accurate prediction in my head of your height because on this app… you know… you, uh, tell me your height?

Other things, you invited me over to watch a movie. You also asked me what my feelings on Mario-Kart where. I don’t play videogames, but I totally love to chill out while other people play… but also I’m not sure we’re there yet? Feels like if we’re going to kind of do the unimaginable (or maybe just the unrecommended) and have a first “date” (is it even a date at this point?) at your apartment, then let’s try to make it as date-y as possible? Like maybe have three movies suggested? ‘Cause, again, we’re not yet at that delightfully banal point couples get to where they spent 45 minutes deciding what the hell they want to eat or watch on Netflix that night.

And if the intention was simply sex, I feel I could’ve been better seduced? You had a muted game on, and you offered me some water. Eh.

So, we talked for about an hour. You asked me a couple questions. You were sort of uncomfortable with my SAT score, I think? But, basically, it was an all right conversation between two humans that was probably made more awkward by the fact that it was in one of their homes. I feel pretty confident that you were also not super attracted to me.

Now, here’s the thing. I can hold a conversation with pretty much anyone about pretty much anything because I ask questions. I’m down to do this for a long time, but at some point, I need to either (a) get blown away by your passion for what you do and/or (b) feel reciprocal interest from you about what I do. I know that some people don’t particularly care about what they do all day… but I have to say I don’t really get this? And if your job is something you don’t care much for, I can get behind that, if you’re then, you know, passionate about something else? Anything else? Also your hobbies appear to be photography and traveling. Your photos are pretty lovely, but you did mention that you don’t like going back to the same places when you travel? That felt like a weird metaphor.

So… towards the end of the night, during which I had been asking most (not all–you did ask some!) of the questions, I decided to be that girl. I asked you what it’s like to have a job you’re not super passionate about. You were very cool about answering this somewhat difficult question. You said you were “passionate enough.” And I think that’s sort of where we called it.

Passionate enough.

Boy 1, I want to thank you. You taught me many things.

  1. Long text chains are kind of absurd in this context. Brief banter can be fun, but the other aspects of digital flirtations are sweet delusions, so if what you’re interested in is human contact, it seems wise to minimize rather than to extend the interstitial period of potential projection… so let’s… not? Let’s do this old school and neurose about text messages later.
  2. No dates at people’s apartments. No matter how sick or tired you are. No matter how friendly or homey the guy is. No matter how near your homes are to each other. It’s just weird.
  3. Accuracy is everything. Make that profile as accurate as possible. Practice self-awareness. It’s sexy.
  4. Details. The devil is in the details because details are hot. SO HOT. I love details. If you ask me over to watch a movie, have three movie options planned. Three movie options, people. That’s all you need. Not two, not four. Just enough choices to feel seen.
  5. You don’t have to make a move (and you didn’t). We’re just humans meeting other humans. You were a human, and you didn’t kill me. Low bar for dating, but high bar for living.

Boy 1, I would not go on another date with you.

UPDATE: You did text me the next day. Not asking to meet again. You just texted me asking about my day. This (a) perpetuates this weird digital bud thing and also (b) confuses me to no end… did you have a good time last night? I don’t think you did. I waited a while to text you back, and I think you picked up on the social cue.