Lately, dating has seemed like a chore. The excitement one gets prior to a date, the butterflies, the giddiness, has long been gone from my repertoire of emotions I get from the idea of a date. Maybe it’s because Hollywood, our parents, and our imaginations have played up the mating game. Maybe it’s because our standards as a society have shifted through the generations. After all, we’ve gone from cave men hitting us over the head to arranged marriages to dowries to courtships to high school sweethearts to “MySpace to Your Place,” and finally to online dating.
No more phone calls asking us out or love letters being sealed with a kiss. It’s text messages, emails, and calendar invites. Liking my status is the new succinct way of communicating shared interests. We don’t even need to talk about ourselves – You can read my profile. We’ve abbreviated dating.
The customary date of dinner and drinks, possibly a movie or activity, on a Friday night have been replaced. Dates happen on weekdays, meeting up after 10 pm at a bar, with his friends… at their gig. No longer will you hear a knock at the door from your date’s anxious hand, he’ll text you when he’s downstairs. That is if he even picks you up at all.
What happened to my goddamn flowers and chocolates?
It’s more than technology advancing faster than humans. We’ve regressed. We’ve lost manners. No doors being held, chairs being pulled out, or men walking on the outside of the sidewalk. Those things stopped being par for the dating course.
Dating has become something you squeeze into your day between work and the gym. We have become so overwhelmed with the number of things to do, see, taste, and experience, that we’ve lost the art of mundane. If you’re not doing something, then you’re missing out (FOMO). Take this concept and compact it to the fact that there is a shitload of potential mates out there for us to do, see, taste, and experience.
We’ve been told that there is that perfect person out there for us. They are attractive, successful, kind, funny, likes the things you like, makes you cum, and loves you more than you love them. Our soul mate.
But where the fuck are they?
They don’t exist, not really. So we date a few people. This one is pretty. This one is funny. This one buys me things. They become like collectible cards. I have a Model, a Musician, and a Nerd. Ah, that beats my Car Guy, Jock, and Bad Boy.
And because we’re not really too interested in getting into a relationship anyways – gotta focus on the career – then we don’t really need to devote our time and resources. We have become as efficient as our hand-held devices. Old-school mentalities take too much thought and consideration for this generation.