ONLINE DATING – BURN AFTER READING

Project: Man started in the dark, smoky confines of a Madison, WI dive bar. My friend and I were sipping on Long Island iced teas (ugh, I know, it was college) when she revealed she had a confession to make. I expected something juicy but was still surprised to hear that my hot, outgoing pal had signed up for Nerve.com.

Back then online dating was a bit less socially acceptable. And we were in Wisconsin, not a major metropolis that’d attract thousands of online members. Still, I volunteered to jump on the bandwagon. Why not make it a semester’s personal project to sign up and snag a dude?

Said friend did, in a matter of weeks: a chill graphic designer whom she spent the next four years with. (She told her parents they’d met in a bar.) But the two guys I briefly dated fell short of ideal: One was a bespectacled saxophonist who (I was horrified to find) sounded like Kenny G., the other a cute but uber-Wisconsinite who worked a desk job and hunted. But the process itself—picking someone out, seducing him first through messages, and then in person—was undeniably thrilling. And if this method eventually worked, as it clearly had for my friend, why not stick with it?

When Project: Man began, Match.com was still semi-free and OkCupid wasn’t well known. I opted for Nerve.com—over the years, it’s retained its slow, clunky format, but is still superior to the other behemoths. Match charges a lot, and many of its members search for mates with an earnestness that borders on sad. OkCupid is free, which is probably why it attracts so many creepers who can’t spell. (I’m a writer, but come on, guys.) Nerve.com is fed into by a couple sites (e.g., The Onion), and it seems to attract the highest ratio of intelligent, creative, attractive men. It’s also free, if you can figure out how to manipulate the weird points system.

Though my ultimate goal was to meet Someone Special, I admittedly got an adrenaline rush from interacting with strangers—even if the date was a disaster, it provided a groan-inducing tale. After moving to Philly, I discovered another bonus: it was a way to get to know a new city. Through dates I found the best brunch joint, indie movie theater and drink special in the city. (Granted, I also learned that if things didn’t work out, I was guaranteed some awkward run-ins.) In one case, I even (aww!) made a new friend. My most promising prospect got back together with his ex, but that didn’t stop us from platonically continuing to sample Philly Specials at Bob and Barbara’s.

Then I moved to New York. After the passive, broke artists and musicians of Philly, the dudes in NY intimidated me. I let myself fall under the spell of an architect/DJ/photographer, because on paper he just sounded so freaking cool. It was a few months before I realized the problem. Alongside the dudes on Nerve looking for pure hookups, there are some who are legit looking for a girlfriend. But many of these have a “perfect girlfriend” box they try to squash girls into. After starting to feel more like a spectator, an affirmation, than an equal, I cut our ties.

After that, I went on a series of increasingly ridiculous dates that fell in the for-entertainment-only category. There was the European “van man” who got up and left ten minutes in because I didn’t feel comfortable giving him my last name (with good reason, apparently). The psychiatrist who analyzed me over beers. (“Julia, I’ve noticed you’re very good at asking questions, but you’re also very good at avoiding them.”) The pseudo-suave Casanova who asked almost immediately when I’d lost my virginity. (His explanation didn’t help: “Well, you know, if a girl loses it too early or too late, those are both warning signs.”)

When the dates became more frustrating than funny, I logged off and tried the real world for a while (i.e. bars). But here I found guys even less likely to stick around, who panicked if even casual dates became too regular an occurrence. So a few months later, I signed up yet again. Then came the last straw: a friendly designer I’d been seeing for a few weeks dumped me in a bar, pretty much out of nowhere. Bam! Nerve had touched my last nerve, and I was convinced that this time, I was shutting down my account for good.

Except. On a whim I’d written to a tall, attractive artist with my last 200 points, and we’d planned a date for that very next night. I was sure he’d be cocky, insane, or at least boring. But he was none of those things. Quite the opposite, actually. And even hotter than I’d anticipated.

Weeks later, we’re still seeing each other. And in a new move, we’ve both shut down our accounts. Obviously, it’s still way too early to holler, “Hey, Nerve WORKED!” But even though I’ve been dating off the site for years, the mere possibility still kind of blows my mind.

Ironically, all my years of “optimistic” dating have left me with some incredibly elaborate defense mechanisms. But that brings me back full circle to the original point of Project: Man—to take a risk, to fully live life. Technology may be revamping the dating scene (I personally think augmented reality dating, i.e., seeing the profiles of people physically nearby, is the next frontier). But the goal and the path to it—filled with hilarity, heartbreak and happiness—will remain the same.

Julia Bartz is a writer and editor living in Brooklyn, NY. Email her at juliabartz@gmail.com and follow her at twitter.com/juliabartz.

Aug 23, 2010

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