That one petered out almost as quickly as the rest.
I certainly didn’t set out to meet as many women as possible, an exhausting goal.
The whole romantic process was starting to feel forced, perfunctory, dehumanizing and, yes, expensive.“It never felt natural,” said a 28-year-old copywriter (likes Don De Lillo) who lives in Brooklyn and recently deleted his Ok Cupid and Tinder accounts in favor of offline encounters.
“I felt like I was working as a machine, pumping data into a function and hoping to find the right results.” “I used to think online dating was the best thing to ever come along, but now I think it’s almost a curse,” said a 43-year-old photo editor (really good at: swimming, cartwheels, eating French fries).
I much prefer spending time with old men, who put me at ease; girls frighten me, and I have been known to vomit when the prospect of romance presents itself, fraying my nerves.
I was, however, looking for a relationship—long- or short-term, as the online dating argot goes—which, I guess, requires you to do things that make you uncomfortable.
“I was looking for the experience of, ‘Oh, I don’t have to because there’s so much availability out there.’”So much availability indeed.
It isn’t the age of the hook-up; it’s the age of the never-ending first date.
While any slut can game the system if he or she so pleases, bedding the city via Tinder or any number of online dating apps, what’s less often acknowledged is that regular people are going on an inordinate number of dates and getting very little—sexual or otherwise—in the process.
After a while, I got tired of explaining, over and over again, how journalists come up with story ideas—by going on online dates, of course!
—and pretending that I like living in Bed-Stuy, so as not to seem too negative.
“Imagine if you were to pick names out of the telephone book and go on a first date.