Nostalgia Romance

It’s to hard imagine what dating was like before the Internet. Since You’ve Got Mail, I’ve pretty much assumed that was the only place in New York one finally found true love. Countless candidates are dismissed immediately and the ones that meet your criteria for appearance and pique your interest, often languish after only a few dates. The entire process seems so clinical, more like looking for a job than a boyfriend, and with the way the job market is nowadays I don’t think any of us want to be reminded of that undertaking. It may not be an original sentiment, but my recent foray into the 60’s world of Revolutionary Road and Mad Men have definitely got me wondering: Whatever happened to romance?

I don’t necessarily mean romance in the vein of flowers and chocolate, horse drawn carriage rides, or long walks on the beach, but the more chivalrous times of tipped hats, honest smiles, held doors, and polite inquiry. We’re so eager to consume every new club, technology, restaurant, YouTube clip, blog, and everything else that comes across our News Feed we don’t take time to really familiarize ourselves with anything anymore. A potential can be dismissed by age, profession, or height in a matter of seconds, so why should we bother delving deeper?

I suppose what I find discouraging about the acceleration of our love lives is that unlike dispensing with a new viral video by closing out the window, much more emotional disappointment goes along with dispensing a potential mate, though we may have put little more thought or effort into bringing them into our lives. Nevertheless, in New York we know there are always more options, another bachelor to review, or another party to cast our net at. We seldom want for entertainment, merely yearn for longer lasting satisfaction.

Gone are the days when it was cool to light up a cigarette in bed after a particularly amazing orgasm. Now it would be considered uncouth, insulting, and unhygienic to do so. Isn’t there something so glamorous about the careless abandon previous generations had for the health and their appetite for pleasure? It may seem wholesome, because they met their dates after exchanging glances at the malt shop, and waited until several dates had passed before they even considered climbing into the backseat of a car. But our dating isn’t sexier or more efficient because it’s faster; it’s less exciting because it’s routine.

We rely on mass transit to get around and tend to date people from all over the city, but why does that preclude the courtesy of being picked up from one’s home? How can the allure of being invited upstairs be properly stoked if we aren’t teased with the possibility? Instead we choose neutral locations in popular neighborhoods so neither party is inconvenienced and we’re left to dart our eyes wildly around the room until our date arrives. Then it is obvious to everyone that you had met online and are now going to probably rehash what you already know about each other.

At the end of the date a gentle kiss, or even touch of the hand was once enough to sustain one’s interest until subsequent dates. The promise of more made the excitement more palpable. Now, if you don’t have sex within the first couple weeks you’re likely to never hear from the person again and if you do you’ve maybe got a 50/50 shot things will continue. Again, I know this may not be original, but the commodification of sex has reduced us to nothing but round-the-clock consumers, ultimately dissatisfied shoppers looking for the best bang for our buck. Figuratively speaking of course.

I know that the Internet opened up a wealth of opportunity for me in all aspects of my life, especially to meet guys as a teenager when bars and other venues were not available. But sometimes I wish that in this particular area of our lives we could slow it down a bit. Get to know someone before deciding they aren’t right for you, or at least as long as the sparks flicker. No harm no foul if it doesn’t work out, but it’s better than constantly second-guessing why so many first dates have remained only that. If that book and show have taught me anything it’s that you can learn a lot about yourself from the one you love, and you owe it to yourself to take time finding the one that’s right. The definition of romantic may be unrealistic, but then again what ideal isn’t?

Appeared Originally on homo-neurotic.com on 6/10/09