Sarah IMs her guy, James: she can’t make it out tonight. She explains to her boyfriend that she is catching up with the girls; her Facebook status backs up the story: “Out with the Ladies!” While out, Sarah runs into an ex-flame and can't decline his request for a nostalgic quick picture. That photo is instantly uploaded to Facebook. James calls Sarah, who then mass-texts her girls to get backup to prove to James the picture was of a moment in time, not an evening spent with another guy. Disaster?
This situation certainly prompts one to ask: Is Sarah two-timing James? While Sarah immediately turned to technology to aid in her damage control, without social media she wouldn’t have had a problem on her hands. But since 96 percent of GenYers are members of social networking groups, most people have this problem.
Do you find yourself browsing Facebook albums of a possible sweetheart, arguing with your friends about whether or not to text him back now or in 30 minutes? Then you, like millions of our readers (and our friend Sarah) are already in a relationship – a relationship with Mr. Digital.
In a way, we are all two-timing our men because we are so consumed with New Media. Mr. Digital is a middleman in almost every modern-day dating interaction. How can you cut his role from competing lead to minor character? Some say we are digitally doomed. When exploring the way technology expedites the progression of dating today it seems like dumping Mr. D is going to prove challenging.
First reason: he can act as the matchmaker. One out of eight couples married in the U.S. last year met via Social Media. For example, when Sarah met James she had immediate access to his favorite quotes, movies and books, his past addresses, former flames, prior and current employment, concerts he attended (and would like to attend)—and the list goes on. Basically, she had access to an insane amount of information, placed in her eager and text-fatigued fingertips by Mr. Digital through channels such as: Facebook, Linkedin, eharmony, Match.com and lastfm. The appeal of ample information draws busy and love-starved GenYers to meet through Mr. Digital, but there are consequences to unnaturally accelerated bonding.
Mr. Digital may have introduced you to your man through niche online dating websites. These sites put you in control of narrowing your search based on stereotypes and superficial goals. Doesn’t this limit the chance to meet a mate that leads to self-expansion? Well, ladies who are seeking a Harvard-degree-holding millionaire have no qualms logging into SeekingArrangement.com. Star Trek fanatics rave about GeeksDreamGirl.com, designed to match geeks with other geeks. Also available, JDate.com for Jewish singles and Christian café.com for Christian singles. Not interested in limiting the options, but still pressed for time? Crazy Blind Date is a site about immediacy, not compatibility. Users are not asked about interests, but instead where and when they are available.
But how available are you really if you are using online dating sites? As you comb through the profiles you can create your own mental fantasy. Social Media, according to the Huffington Post, has overtaken porn as the number one activity on the Web – perhaps because social media offers a type of fantasy we can almost believe. While dating online people suspend reality and project that fatal and loaded “this-is-the-one” onto their computer screen’s web browser. Ok, it is entertaining, but it is robbing dating of the initial meet-cute. Meet-cutes—often present in RomComs---are scenarios in which two individuals are brought together in some unlikely, zany sort of way. These highly-charged interactions are crucial for testing the waters for chemistry.
Meet-cutes are unpredictable—not staged self-enhancing iChat convos. Meredith Goldstein, Relationship Editor for the Boston Globe, hates that “the mystery of learning about the person vanishes as soon as you pull up the screen.” She explains that as you scroll through a prospect’s interests and photos, it is, in a way, cheating. “You are cheating yourself,” Goldstein grimaces, “by replacing the slow unfolding of getting-to-know-him with an instant all access pass.” This pass is readily available, provided by Mr. Digital.
So maybe Mr. Digital shouldn’t act as a middleman while you get the lay of the land, but once you are standing on stable-committed relationship terrain, is it ok to use technology to connect? Eve, a Boston University student, says she has mainly text- conversations with her boyfriend, Chris, because she doesn’t know where he is: it is a courtesy. “With everyone running around there is virtually no way to anticipate if it is a good time for them” she smiles coyly, “if I text I am leaving the ball in his court.”
The problem: this court is suspended in time. Mr. Digital is providing both you and your man a chance to filter your responses. Instead of stable, the relationship turf is superficial. Your man—as the receiver of a text – has ample time to contemplate. For example, your text-offer for grabbing dinner is read in the morning. After mulling over a possible bailout line and choosing between a swanky place or hole-in-the-wall type establishment, he types back a reply. You, as the sender, have the same luxury of time.
We have created a conversation drained of the non-verbal communication tools that we once depended on. Instead, you and your man have become dependent on Mr. D and deciphering his subtle emoticons could rack havoc on your relationship. Goldstein sees Mr. Digital as a middleman willing to work overtime, which makes people lazy about real human interaction. Perhaps it becomes too tempting to rationalize a lack of effort with a “I put the ball in his court” text message. Texts render the six universally recognizable facial expressions as untapped resources. When Mr. Digital is pulling the strings, the cues we seek change while the whole way we play the dating game shifts.
Mr. Digital often leaves the door open for participants to take the reins. Goldstein sees this as terrible because, “the Internet helps people cheat and spy.” In the aforementioned digital dilemma, James was spying on Sarah; she then behaved more like an agent verifying facts and less like a girlfriend checking-in. Goldstein notices this investigative persona overtaking her readers—a trend credited to the sheer amount of information social media provides us with.
Mr. Digital provides more than just facts about your man: now every suspicion you have can be examined without a dialogue, just some digging. Relationships suffer when there is no trust, but they suffer more when one person starts moonlighting as a private detective. Since fact-reinforcement is available at any point it creates an atmosphere that is not private, but prime for jealous probing.
The lack of privacy also erodes intimacy in pre-existing relationships that let Mr. Digital into their bond. The once intimate “I am having a bad day, honey” comment is now tweeted and the guy who goes to your gym now knows you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. So, what separates the gym-dude from your main squeeze if they are both aware of your inner states and interests? Favorite hobbies and quirky pastimes no longer unravel themselves during the course of the relationship and pleasantly surprise your guy. Instead they sit clumped together on a Facebook Wall waiting for someone, anyone to read.
A hint of desperation proliferates our allowance of Mr. Digital as the middleman. Perhaps greater faith in making connections would give couples the courage to kick Mr. D out of their bedrooms? Hal Niedzviecki, Toronto-based author of the book "The Peep Diaries: How We're Learning to Love Watching Ourselves and Our Neighbors," offers an entirely different perspective. Niedzviecki, who's currently filming a documentary about these websites, has a theory that people are not all self-absorbed, self-conscious, or lazy—they are just looking for human connection in a digital age. By using social media are we seeking this connection in a progressive way or a pathetic one?
That is a question Sarah and millions of other GenYers have to answer for themselves, which should be no problem in an era of individualism. The issue: as our interactions with others are less based around real-time engagement it seems we are destined to be digitally doomed. Quick, someone break out the good silver and throw a dinner party with hand-written invitations so that Sarah can introduce her friends to one-another. What we need: a matchmaker with a pulse, not batteries.
