In Defense of Online Dating

Enough with the shame and the scare tactics: I'm proud to say that I have used the online personal ads. And I didn't even do it as "research" for this article.

Whenever a new dating trend pops up, articles quickly follow lauding it and condemning it. "Speed dating is wildly efficient!" "Speed dating proves superficial!"

Take online dating. What might seem like a nifty way to meet new people is now reviled in a variety of ways: as a method of leading innocent singles into horrifying situations, as the commodification of the single. Shockingly, people online are accused of presenting idealized images of themselves. Dates met on the anonymous Internet, we are warned, might not be who they say they are. They might turn out to be liars and cheaters, they might be married, or poor, or ugly or shy or zitty. The Seattle Times suggests that daters, particularly women, head to the county recorder's office to perform background checks on all dates met online (is he really a homeowner?). "Lying zitty married man stalks woman he met online!" the headlines seem to trumpet, as if this indicates something about the online personals.

I'm sorry, but while some criminals may find their prey online, the creeps of the world are not a product of Internet dating. Dating is never pretty. It's hard to find the perfect fit without trying a few on, and when it's people and not shoes, there is no way to make the process painless. Sure, we'd all prefer to live inside a romantic comedy, in a world where fate is on our side and we're destined to cross paths with The One just as the violins swell. But reality often proves messy, painful or zitty. As a veteran of online, offline, personals and non-personals dating scenes, I can assure you, messiness is common to all methods.

Full disclosure: I have long been addicted to the Nerve.com personals. When I was in an unhappy relationship, I surfed them to reassure myself that there were other options out there. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. I've even gone out on dates from the Nerve personals.

Certain aspects of online dating are indeed new. Some are helpful: As a writer, I get to find out before meeting a date what books he likes and whether or not he punctuates. One of my favorite ads read: "I don't fit many stereotypes. I'm brazen but bashful, and often excited but nervous. I love most things urban but just have to get out of the asphalt jungle sometimes." In other words, nothing earth-shattering, just wry and honest.

Another wrote that he was looking for "fearless Bad-ass Nymphettes who worship at the temple of Betty Page, who regularly converse with the Muses, who think about drinking and drink about thinking." Clever, no? (Although, I'm not sure I fit the Betty Page req.)

The process of finding dates online can, it's true, feel accelerated. Instead of wondering whether he'll call you within the next few days, you're wondering whether he'll write you an email within the next few minutes. And it's easier, when looking for dates online, to line up three dates in a week. And yes, one of those three will probably be what we under-30 types call a player -- a guy whose ad you'll see posted in three or four different incarnations in the few days before you actually meet him. Online, at least you can track his handywork. The second guy will be a nice guy you're just not attracted to. Online, at least you can email him to say you're sorry. One of the guys will be someone eminently crushable. And if he doesn't call, it'll smart pretty much the same as if you had met him offline.

The truth is, online and off, bad dates happen. There's no point in trying to blame the set-up. My very worst date of all time began, right off the bat, with this scintillating bit of dialogue:

Him: So, I hear you're a feminist.
Me: Oh, really?
Him: Yeah. Are you?
Me: Well, I suppose I hold certain beliefs. Equal pay for equal work, that kind of thing.
Him: Oh. Well, that's OK, I guess. But you know, when I get married, my wife's going to stay put and I'm going to bring home the bacon.