Tonight I sat next to an awkward-first-date at the coffee shop. I almost had to move because I was so distracted by their awkward-first-date conversation and I couldn’t focus on the analysis essays I was trying to grade. So I did what all self-respecting people would do…I put my headphones on, turned the sound down, and looked like I was deeply absorbed in my papers while eavesdropping in on this couple’s first post-Match.com conversation.
I tried to think of my last first date and sadly realized that I can’t remember it. I can’t remember the last time I’ve said with any amount of certainty, “I’m going on a date tonight.” I’ve said things like, “I’m hanging out with this guy,” or “I’m meeting this guy at this place,” but it’s been a very long time before I had a mutual understanding of “yes, this right here is in fact an actual, honest-to-God date.” As I listened to these two people (while pretending to completely ignore them) go through 1st date banter, I was very thankful for all of the ambiguous “outings” I’ve had over the last few years. Apparently when the datees are aware that they are on an actual date, it changes the tone of the entire experience.
It suddenly becomes awkward as hell.
According to the date I eavesdropped on tonight, it seems expected and appropriate to list all of your favorite hobbies, movies, bands, books, etc on a first date. I listened as the girl next to me talked in a pinched voice about Arcade Fire, Sea Wolf, Pheonix (the band, not the city) and her love of George Orwell. He nervously said something about 1984, and then listed three other books by George Orwell that he had read, two of them being so obscure, he could hardly remember them either. His interests had passed the test. (I did see her wince though when he said something about Toby Keith because the dye job in her hair, and her eyebrow ring didn’t exactly scream CMT…and the closest thing to country she mentioned on her music interest list was She and Him).
I was really bummed out when took their date to the periodical section where they would browse and try to present the most well-rounded and charmingly obscure versions of themselves, picking their words carefully. If I remember correctly, appearing to be the most interesting version of yourself is another requirement on a first date. Despite my (so hidden it’s like it’s not even there) talent for subterfuge, it would have been too obvious for me to follow these guys around, so I gave up the ghost and resigned myself to my papers. But I kept looking up to see how the date was going, and then my mind started wondering.
I started thinking about what first dates were like before the World Wide Web. The Internet has provided a venue to list our hobbies, interests, connections, jobs, and friends in a way that we’ve never been able to do before. And I wonder if our ability to list these things is changing how we determine who we are? Are we becoming people that are identified not by our thoughts, words, or actions? Instead we are identified by what movie directors we prefer, what genre of music we listen to, and which poet spoke to us the loudest. Does this mark the slow but steady decline into an entirely superficial connection with others? We will no longer have to discuss the ideas that certain books, films, or paintings represent because it will be enough to simply “like” those things (until Facebook falls to the pressures of the online community and creates a dislike function as well). The “more is better” belief that pervades our entire culture has also taken over our hobbies and interests. People are collecting favorite bands, books, movies because somehow it makes them “more” enlightened, and the internet has allowed them a quick and easy way to increase their collections exponentially. (But shouldn’t it be the other way around? Is it better to have a superficial understanding of 350 books, or a deep, analytical understanding of 10?) Because of these collections, people are able to say a lot on a first date, without really saying anything at all.
It makes me wonder if first dates were always a compare and contrast list of our favorite things. Before people were invited to identify themselves by an inventory of their interests, what did they talk about with an almost stranger? 20 years ago, would those two have been more likely to discuss the themes and ideas of 1984, Big Brother, or social science fiction as a genre before listing off three other Orwell books that they had also read? Were dates in the past centered on thoughts, not things?
Or maybe not. Maybe first dates always a type of skin-deep summary, a blurb on the jacket of a book? People like to dip their toes in the water to test it before diving right in, and I guess our interests do (superficially) present ourselves, surface-level. Our interests guide our thoughts which shape our characters, so they aren’t who we are, but we cannot deny their (possible) influence on us. And who doesn’t enjoy the reassurance of self that comes when you find out your band or movie list looks a lot like someone else’s?
So I guess the first date is a mere summary, and by about date three or four you start to get more into the insightful realm of synthesis, analysis, and evaluation. And thank goodness for Nyquil. Otherwise, I’d be up for hours designing some Hierarchy of Dating Chart. (Yes, I just compared dating to Bloom’s Taxonomy of Learning and Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs…and suddenly I’m no longer surprised that it’s been a while since I’ve had a proper first date).
I tried to think of my last first date and sadly realized that I can’t remember it. I can’t remember the last time I’ve said with any amount of certainty, “I’m going on a date tonight.” I’ve said things like, “I’m hanging out with this guy,” or “I’m meeting this guy at this place,” but it’s been a very long time before I had a mutual understanding of “yes, this right here is in fact an actual, honest-to-God date.” As I listened to these two people (while pretending to completely ignore them) go through 1st date banter, I was very thankful for all of the ambiguous “outings” I’ve had over the last few years. Apparently when the datees are aware that they are on an actual date, it changes the tone of the entire experience.
It suddenly becomes awkward as hell.
According to the date I eavesdropped on tonight, it seems expected and appropriate to list all of your favorite hobbies, movies, bands, books, etc on a first date. I listened as the girl next to me talked in a pinched voice about Arcade Fire, Sea Wolf, Pheonix (the band, not the city) and her love of George Orwell. He nervously said something about 1984, and then listed three other books by George Orwell that he had read, two of them being so obscure, he could hardly remember them either. His interests had passed the test. (I did see her wince though when he said something about Toby Keith because the dye job in her hair, and her eyebrow ring didn’t exactly scream CMT…and the closest thing to country she mentioned on her music interest list was She and Him).
I was really bummed out when took their date to the periodical section where they would browse and try to present the most well-rounded and charmingly obscure versions of themselves, picking their words carefully. If I remember correctly, appearing to be the most interesting version of yourself is another requirement on a first date. Despite my (so hidden it’s like it’s not even there) talent for subterfuge, it would have been too obvious for me to follow these guys around, so I gave up the ghost and resigned myself to my papers. But I kept looking up to see how the date was going, and then my mind started wondering.
I started thinking about what first dates were like before the World Wide Web. The Internet has provided a venue to list our hobbies, interests, connections, jobs, and friends in a way that we’ve never been able to do before. And I wonder if our ability to list these things is changing how we determine who we are? Are we becoming people that are identified not by our thoughts, words, or actions? Instead we are identified by what movie directors we prefer, what genre of music we listen to, and which poet spoke to us the loudest. Does this mark the slow but steady decline into an entirely superficial connection with others? We will no longer have to discuss the ideas that certain books, films, or paintings represent because it will be enough to simply “like” those things (until Facebook falls to the pressures of the online community and creates a dislike function as well). The “more is better” belief that pervades our entire culture has also taken over our hobbies and interests. People are collecting favorite bands, books, movies because somehow it makes them “more” enlightened, and the internet has allowed them a quick and easy way to increase their collections exponentially. (But shouldn’t it be the other way around? Is it better to have a superficial understanding of 350 books, or a deep, analytical understanding of 10?) Because of these collections, people are able to say a lot on a first date, without really saying anything at all.
It makes me wonder if first dates were always a compare and contrast list of our favorite things. Before people were invited to identify themselves by an inventory of their interests, what did they talk about with an almost stranger? 20 years ago, would those two have been more likely to discuss the themes and ideas of 1984, Big Brother, or social science fiction as a genre before listing off three other Orwell books that they had also read? Were dates in the past centered on thoughts, not things?
Or maybe not. Maybe first dates always a type of skin-deep summary, a blurb on the jacket of a book? People like to dip their toes in the water to test it before diving right in, and I guess our interests do (superficially) present ourselves, surface-level. Our interests guide our thoughts which shape our characters, so they aren’t who we are, but we cannot deny their (possible) influence on us. And who doesn’t enjoy the reassurance of self that comes when you find out your band or movie list looks a lot like someone else’s?
So I guess the first date is a mere summary, and by about date three or four you start to get more into the insightful realm of synthesis, analysis, and evaluation. And thank goodness for Nyquil. Otherwise, I’d be up for hours designing some Hierarchy of Dating Chart. (Yes, I just compared dating to Bloom’s Taxonomy of Learning and Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs…and suddenly I’m no longer surprised that it’s been a while since I’ve had a proper first date).
The fact that you used Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs in this blog just made me oh-so happy :)
ReplyDeleteNo matter the age of the couple you can still always spot a first date. So awkward. It's basically a job interview. "Will you fit in well with our company?"
ReplyDeleteThe online dating phenomenon is so new that it's really hard to tell whether those kind of relationships can work out.
From my standpoint, I think it's better to be pleasantly surprised with the differences that you and your partner have, while still enjoying a common ground on a few core issues. But whatever. The last thing any of us need is one more thing to worry about.
I like rap, celebrity gossip magazines, and When Harry Met Sally. My husband likes rock and bluegrass, reads historical biographies, and likes (most) Tarantino. But our "lists" concerning political views, ideas about marriage, and views on parenting are almost identical. If these things were what we based our first-dates on, perhaps the divorce rate would go down???
ReplyDelete