Today, the first Sunday after New Years, has been dubbed by the dating industry “Dating Sunday.” It’s when the various online dating platforms see a surge in sign ups and subscriptions. I’d be lying if I said I’m impervious to the hint of optimism that comes at this time of year and carries with it the soft sigh of resignation. “Alright, I should probably give this another go…” This isn’t quite the full-throttle, “this is the year I’m going to find my soulmate” type of optimism. It’s more of an admission that I could probably try a little harder.
I haven’t signed up for any new accounts – though I have been tempted to delete my profile and start fresh. In its current iteration, I have a small mountain of missed connections (expired conversations) and a much larger group of people who I’ve passed on. In many cases, you can’t get a second shot without deleting and starting over. The missed connections are profiles where we swiped on each other but never talked or never talked much and yet neither of us ever deleted the account or broke the connection. In some instances, we might have met up and one or both of us didn’t pursue it further. In most cases, I’m not sure we got to know each other well enough to make an informed/deliberate decision. The connection or conversation simply atrophied. The logic here seems to be, if it isn’t a “hell yes” it’s a shrug induced no.
As part of that whole resolution-making process, I’ve decided to “put myself of out there” more – to meet new people and maybe even show some gusto or initiative. In this effort, I’m trying to be more open and less dismissive, less assuming, less cynical. I’m trying not to intuit too much based on photos and profiles and/or lackluster conversations. However, ignoring first impressions can, at times, be a little like trying not to think about the car tire that feels wobbly after hitting a pothole or trying not to worry about whether or not you left the coffee maker on when you’ve already left and are several miles from the house. Once the judgmental thoughts enter your head, they’re there and sometimes difficult to ignore.
In doing this, I’m learning, or sensing, that among my bigger challenges in connecting with people is that I do, from time to time, feel uncouth or country bumpkin-ish out here. I don’t have Bay Area wealth or Bay Area experience. I’m not versed in wine culture. I don’t go to the latest “in” restaurants (though I wouldn’t mind). I don’t travel much. I don’t do weekends anywhere. Instead, I go to concerts and blues shows… I hang out in bars. I walk around and see things.
I keep telling myself that until I’m a little more established, I have neither the means nor the time to do a lot of the things other people do. All of those pictures sailing, and climbing Machu Picchu, and snowboarding, and visiting the vineyards in Tuscany… But I’m also not sure if I want to live that lifestyle. I’ve never live an extreme or fancy or expensive lifestyle (snowboarding, rock climbing, skiing, or wine country every weekend). I don’t work hard, play hard, and I don’t do a lot of “type 2” fun – which is a term I’ve seen used on dating profiles and had to look it up. It’s defined as “challenging, uncomfortable, or even painful activities that are more enjoyable to reflect on later.” Meh. I’ve never been fond of “grind” culture and I seldom hustle. Instead, I’m a fan and practitioner of slowing down. I spend a lot of time sitting on benches and pensively staring out at the water. If I travel, it’s maybe once a year. I spend a lot of time thinking and reflecting as opposed to going and doing. Fast-paced environments make me want to take a nap. I don’t see a lot of profiles that say they enjoy naps.
Quite often, as I’m scrolling through dating profiles, I find myself wondering if there are any “normal” people out there? By normal, I mean basic like me. People who think going to the museum, walking through the park, having a staring contest with a sea lion, catching a sunset, or visiting a different neighborhood might be fun. People who think going to the farmers market, and a coffee shop, and then cooking a nice meal makes for a full and enriching day. People who have the desire and make the time to slow down and connect. As such, I suspect (or fear) that my lifestyle might seem boring to a lot of people I see on the apps. Or at least that’s the judgment I make and why I tend to ignore a lot of the people I see.
Admittedly, much of my current thinking about this mismatch with what I’m seeing online is influenced by an article I recently read that points to the many ways Silicon Valley has cast its shadow over San Francisco (and the world). We are all beholden to tech’s iron grip and the vice it applies to our perceptions of the world. It has contributed towards significant disparities in wealth. It has driven up the cost of living in most cities, but especially in the Bay Area. It has created a world order in which we are becoming less communal and more isolated. Income inequality means that our neighborhoods are becoming less diverse. Online shopping and self check-out means that we spend less time seeing and interacting with other people like store clerks. Contactless delivery means that we’re not spending as much time in restaurants or even making small talk with the delivery drivers. This is accelerating our inability to meet other people where they are and, I suspect, diminishing our willingness to compromise. When the entire world is delivered to your doorstep and curated based on you existing patterns and habits, we begin to lose the ability to seek out new things and stretch beyond the self.
I think part of what I’m seeing in the online dating world, but also on the bus and walking around my neighborhood, is the trickle down effect of this isolation and economic disparity. In my observations, I begin to think that people hurry around and busy themselves and stare at their phones because slowing down and being with one’s own thoughts is uncomfortable. I suspect that people who can afford to do so avoid the alleyways of the world. They steer clear of strangers and seek out sameness. If people are struggling to make authentic connections, I suspect it’s because in walling themselves off, they’re losing their ability to connect with the self. Unfortunately, our modern way of living (always online, always busy, always distracted) perpetuates the problem. To fight it, requires a daily commitment to choosing something different, and many people, understandably, grow tired of the effort in breaking through the echo chamber.
It’s difficult to ignore the socio-economic factors of the region. If I’m not encountering a lot of “normal” people, by which I mean middle class people with middle class budgets and middle class desires, it’s because I suspect it takes a certain amount of economic independence to live out here. Fewer and fewer basic people, like me, (and I don’t use that descriptor as a criticism) can afford to live here which can make finding like-minded (or like-budgeted) people a challenge. Those economic disparities, in turn, influence what one sees, how one moves through the world, how one busies or quiets oneself, what one learns to appreciate, and where one finds inspiration and joy. For me, walking around the city and taking the bus isn’t just economically practical, but it puts me in contact with the world – for which I am tremendously grateful. I don’t encounter many people (men or women) with similar, child-like enthusiasms.
To be fair, I’m making a lot of assumptions when I see these profiles. It’s these assumptions that I’m trying to fight, or at least stifle. Dating Sunday, for me, isn’t about hitting the apps hard the way one might hit the gym, but is more about being skeptical of my own intuition and trying to open my field of vision a bitter wider.