Modern Day Dating

It's like running a marathon through a river of sh!t

Hey Virgil! You keep saying you’re going to write and you never do!

Honestly, I’m sick of politics. I saw Biden’s “red speech” and blah blah Trump and blah blah midterms etc… It’s just gotten boring for me. We all know the situation, and adding a thousand word article from me into the ether just hasn’t seemed valuable. So I’m going back to writing about the culture.

I read an article on Bari Weiss’ Substack this morning. I always enjoy Bari’s writing and her guest authors are usually interesting too. The article was about Tinder and how it does or doesn’t work. That article inspired me to write this one, so check it out… and while you’re at it, subscribe to Bari. She really is always a good read, even though I don’t always agree with her.

As for my own writing, I don’t really want to be just a political guy. The goal of Line of Fire is to add an interesting and enjoyable perspective to our culture, not just lament Democrat policy or complain about Trump. So, in an attempt to get back to that… let’s talk about sex, baby!

If you’re married, thank your spouse

First thing is first, if you have a partner, stop what you are doing and thank them for being with you. You are likely a nightmare of a person without them, and that lovely person who agrees to share a bed with you is the only thing standing between you and the hellscape that I am about to describe. So show a little gratitude.

How bad is it out there, you might be asking? Let me put it this way. I hate my ex for many reasons, but nothing he ever did to me was as bad as making me go out and date again in my 40’s. I can forget the rest of the hell he put me through and move on… but making me have to deal with modern adult internet dating is unforgivable.

For those of you who aren’t out there, allow me to explain the situation. If you are over about 35, people don’t meet each other at bars or at parties anymore… because your ideal match isn’t in a bar at midnight on a Saturday in their 30’s or 40’s, like some kind of rabid psycho. You don’t go to school anymore, so you can’t meet anyone there. You can’t date at work, lest you get “#metoo’d”. You could sign up for the local kickball league or join some desperate dinner group you found on Eventbright… but then you’d have to play kickball or eat dinner with strangers… and screw that. You could try chatting up someone at a grocery store or on the street, but in that scenario you are more likely to get pepper sprayed than laid.

So what are you supposed to do?

Well… you do the same thing that everyone else does… You pull that damn smartphone out and get to swiping. Right for “maybe”, left for “hell no” and wait for a that hand held substitute for living to let you know you’ve “matched” with someone. Then you start typing:

Me: Hi! I’m Virgil 👋

Match: Hi

Me: So… how is your Monday?

Match: Going okay.

Me: Great! What are you looking for on here?

Match: I don’t know.

Me: Neat! What do you like to do for fun?

Match: Watch TV. Hang with friends.

Me: Awesome! Do you know much 30 bowling balls weigh?

Match: No…?

Me: I don’t know either, but they’ve got to be easier to carry than this horrible conversation.

Unmatch. Repeat ad nauseam.

Time for a date!

Okay, so you’ve finally decided to put yourself out there, and actually find someone to go out with. All you need to do is get yourself a date. You double check that you have the right profile picture… the one with you looking sharp in a fancy location, smiling like you just won the lotto but don’t need the money. You log on to the sadness app (in the daytime to limit the perverts) and you’re off to the races!

After chatting with an endless sea of freaks and insane people, you finally find someone who wants to go out with you on an actual, honest to God date. They are attractive and seem sane enough… so you decide on a trendy tapas place that has good drinks and set a time.

You show up on time, wearing something snazzy, and meet one of the following individuals:

The walking red flag: You talk online for a couple of days and settle on a time and place for a date. They say they can’t go anywhere expensive 🚩. No worries, you offer to pay for the first date, and they accept without argument 🚩. You ask if they like tapas and craft cocktails and get the feeling they have never heard of either one 🚩. They say their roommate is dropping them off for the date 🚩 and you discover instead of a roommate, that’s actually their mom 🚩. You get a table and they look at the menu like the’ve never seen one without pictures 🚩 and ask you what they should get 🚩. You ask how their week was and they mentioned how they slept all day on Tuesday 🚩.

Finally, it hits like a bolt... This person is now, always has been, and will always be… dead ass broke. In hindsight, it was pretty obvious, but somehow you managed to miss every single red flag out there. You pay. You tip well. You don’t offer to wait with them until their mom picks them up.

Ta-ta, ya broke bitch! Call me sometime!

The fatal flaw: This person is fun and has a job and seems to be responsible. They have their own place and know how to eat in a restaurant. They are funny and enjoyable and attractive. You are really feeling like this this is going well. They laugh at your jokes and tell some funny ones of their own. Then… they off handedly mention they own 13 cats and are actively looking for more. Before you can ask if they are joking, they start listing them along with their personality traits.

“Mr. Sprinkles is the shy one and Donatello has anxiety. Socks is a Democrat while Captain von Hibbenshleffer is a Republican… so they don’t get along all that well.”

Ugh… so close!

The interviewer: Have you ever been to a job interview for a job you are pretty sure you don’t want? Well, that’s this date. This person knows what they want and they are going to interrogate you to find out if you are it.

About an hour in, they know everything about you and you still haven’t asked their last name. Worse yet, your natural competitiveness is making you try to answer the questions correctly so you can “win”.

“Hey there friend… I know we are trying to get to know each other, but I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to you about my worst childhood trauma. Why don’t just we get drunk and screw?”

The virtuous one: They think they are perfect and you should be too. They think Black Lives Matter and that trans-rights are human rights. They are vegetarian when they aren’t vegan, and care about saving the whales. They vote Democrat and drive a Prius… which is all fine by you, until they find out you are none of those things and they get all judgy.

“Don’t you care about the plight of the Amazon jungle peoples?”

Not really

“How can you not be concerned about climate change??”

I deeply don’t care about it.

“OMG, I could NEVER be with someone who smokes.”

I’m gonna step out and burn one really quick.

“January 6th was the worst day in American history!”

I’m going to need another drink.

“What do you mean you don’t want to defund the police!?”

Are you going to eat that last croquette? Those things are tasty! Also, feel free to piss off. See ya never!

The stage 5 clinger: You chatted and had a good conversation. You set up a date for a couple of days out. The next morning, you wake up to a “good morning” text. Hmmm… Well… “Good morning to you too, total stranger”. Not too bad, but still.

Then about lunch you get another one “how’s you day going?”. Time to start ignoring for a little while.

This continues but it’s not that bad so you roll with it. Finally the date happens and it’s not fabulous, but better than most. You split the bill and agree that you should go out again. You got a little feeling during supper that perhaps jumping into bed with this person too early could come with some unpleasant strings, so you say your goodnights, maybe steal a little kiss, and head your separate ways.

Then it happens. The next morning you get the “good morning, baby” text. Baby??? You called me baby? What the hell am I supposed to do with that? We are strangers. We don’t know each other.

17 texts later and you have to end it… And it feels like a break up. You now have to break up with a stranger. He’s sad and you couldn’t give a damn less. Block button deployed after a polite brush off and you are exhausted. I hate the stage 5 clinger.

The drunk: I can see it when it happens… I know the moment the blackout sets in.

You are having a great time. The drinks are really flowing. A couple of fireballs? Sure! Another martini? Maybe I’ll switch over to a beer. How many whiskeys has this person had?

Then it happens. The eyes change. Lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a dolls eyes. The responses stop making sense. Confusion and frustration set in. The only thing that doesn’t change is their desire for more liquor. Next thing you know you are apologizing for nothing, and trying to figure out how you are going to get the bill paid and you both out of there without making more of a scene than you already have.

Take my advice here if nowhere else. At the moment of the blackout, stop what you are doing and stand up. Take some cash and put it on the table... If you forgot to get cash, screw it. Excuse yourself from the table. Walk outside. Get in an Uber. Block this person’s number and never look back. Never. Again.

The one: Well you’ve done it! You have been through almost every loser on the sadness app, but finally after more bad dates than you can count, you have met someone who is really great. This person is attractive and successful and fun and nice. They care about the things you care about, and you both have shared interests and values. The date is like a dream!

Then you wake up because it was a dream. I wonder if red flag 🚩 wants another free meal this weekend. I should give him a shout and see if his mom will drop him off at my place.

The hook up

Tired of all that work? Are you over all the pointless conversations over tiny plates of overpriced ham and $17 cocktails? Well eventually, the devil will get in your ear and start to whisper… “why don’t you just have a hook up?”

For those of you who haven’t been in the game for a while, a hook up is the modern day version of the one night stand that we all remember with such fondness. Remember when you were younger and you’d go out with a group of friends and meet an attractive person at a bar or a party? Remember how you worked up a little nerve, aided with a few beers and engaged that person in conversation? Remember how you both got a little lit, and drunkenly decided to head to your place or theirs? Remember how it was usually a little awkward but overall, a good time was had by all?

Well… remove all the enjoyable parts from that scenario, and you’ve got the modern hook up.

Look, this might to be hard to hear… but if the first digit of your age is larger than a 2, you are too old to have some random internet hook up. Yeah, I’m talking to the gays too. Sorry, but it’s true. Hook ups are awkward and horrible and you are far better off doing literally anything else. Maybe try learning an instrument or writing a Substack article.

Allow me to set a scene:

It’s Saturday night. You went out for a drink with a couple of married friends and it’s now 9 PM and you are back home, because they have kid stuff to do in the morning, and are smart enough not to stay out all night drinking with your sad single ass. You grab an extra 6 pack on the way home and turn on the TV. You think to yourself… damn, a little company would be nice.

You feel a little guilty about the thought of hooking up with someone but then you try to remember the last time you went for a little slap and tickle, and say to yourself, “well, that’s just embarrassing”.

So you open up your favorite sadness app and swap that “date me” profile picture for the other one. You know the one… you are holding a phone up at the bathroom mirror and definitely not saying “date me”. You’re not looking for the perfect mate here. Nope… this is all sin… and after dark on Saturday night, you have options… horrible, horrible options.

For gays there’s a specific app for this scenario called Grindr. It’s like the Papa John’s app except instead of pizza showing up at your house, you get a closeted drug addict named Dave. As for the straights, they tell me that Tinder also works for hook ups. Knowing what I do about women, I don’t see why one would ever come over to some random guy’s house on a Saturday night without getting paid… but I’m told it happens.

At any rate, after some shameful chatting with Dave / Liza and an exchange of “recent” photos in various states of undress, you shoot out your address and are immediately awash in regret. This is not the only regret you are going to feel tonight… so dig in.

After a scan around your place to make sure it looks okay and a quick brush of your teeth, you open up another beer and wait for the “pizza” to get there.

Your phone buzzes, Dave is lost. How Dave got lost with GPS, you haven’t got a clue… but he’s 3 streets over and you have to try to talk him in. Dave finally finds the place and now he’s at your door (or Liza if that’s your thing). You open the door and do your best not to show the massive disappointment you are feeling. Dave / Liza is a good bit trashier than you were thinking and you are pretty sure they are high on something that’s definitely not weed. But what the hell were you expecting, Richard Gere and Julia Roberts? This ain’t the movies, kids.

At any rate, thirty horrifying minutes later, you are ushering them to your door, and lying about how “We should definitely do this again sometime! Don’t forget your phone and keys and wallet and everything else because you aren’t getting back in here for any reason ever, and try not to steal anything on the way out.”

The door closes behind them which you lock twice for good measure, block all numbers on your phone, and wish like hell your memory had a block button too.

Look, I’m not a prude. If this scenario sounds a little too relatable, welcome to being single as an adult. I get it. But as for me, I told myself a while ago that I’m just not doing things that make me want to recreate the shower scene from Ace Ventura. An internet hook up at an age where I get up in the middle of the night to pee falls pretty squarely in the hard pass category.

Thanks for the offer, Dave… but I think I’ll pass on the methy monkeypox tonight. Maybe some other time.

So what’s the answer, Virgil?

Hey, it’s not like I have all the answers. In truth, I’m not sure I have any answers. There’s a sea of humanity out there and one thing is pretty obvious, people are having a harder time connecting than before. Technology was supposed to make it easier, but in truth, making real connections is much harder now.

When I was younger, the idea of using a website or a singles add online seemed desperate. You were supposed to meet people in person and get to know someone organically. That’s how humans evolved to select a mate. There is something in the way that special guy or girl stands. It’s the crooked smile or the snort at the end of a laugh that you find endearing. Maybe it’s pheromones or micro-expressions. All I know is that whatever that magic of attraction is, it doesn’t translate online.

When you talk to someone on an app, you aren’t actually meeting the real person. You are creating a fantasy of what you think that person is like. You think about how he or she might stand or move, but you don’t really know. You invent a voice for them. You assume a style and a vibe based on a few photos. But that’s not them… that’s not the actual person.

Over the course of a few online chats you begin to form an attraction for some version of that person… but not to the actual person you are talking to. You are becoming attracted to an avatar you made up in lieu of them. Then they do the same to you. How can either of you live up to the fantasy when the time comes to meet?

Why are Tinder dates so awkward? The answer might be that you aren’t on a date with the person you spoke to on Tinder. That person isn’t real. They sound differently. They move differently. They smell differently than what you had in your head. Your date is in competition with an apparition, and they don’t even know it.

Why did it used to be so much fun to meet a sexy guy or gal at a Christmas party and talk or dance the night away, exchange contact info and maybe even go home together? Why is it so stressful now just to get a meal and a few drinks with someone you’ve spoken to several times online? The answer should be obvious. It’s because the guy or gal you met at the bar was real, the one you invented after chatting online isn’t. At the bar, the mutual attraction was palpable. The Tinder date is a zoom call that accidentally came to life.

I think it might be time to give up on the apps. I got rid of Grindr years ago. I’m not trying to get robbed by Dave just to get left with nothing but a bad memory and the clap… But I think it’s time for all of us to dump Tinder and Bumble and the rest of them too. We should try flirting again… or maybe check out that kickball league, but Zoom-date needs to go the way of the Dodo.

Maybe I could give the cat collector another chance… 🚩

Non Sequitur

Here’s a WSJ article a friend sent me. It got me thinking. It’s time to get workers back in the offices and it’s going to take employers with a spine to do it.

For those who like working remote, I have bad news for you… It’s not good for employers or employees. It’s also not good for the economy. The work from home trend is leaving trillions of dollars of commercial real estate underutilized or even and rotting. Business districts in cities are falling apart. Service businesses that relied on those workers are failing. This needs to end.

For employers, the advantages of in person work are obvious. Companies have a culture and employees have to be present to be part of that culture. Supervisors have to see their employees daily to help guide them and make sure they are being efficient. The boss has to be able to see the work being done.

For employees, the reasons should be obvious, too. You need to be there in person to collaborate effectively with your coworkers. For younger employees, working from home is especially detrimental. It robs them of the opportunity to meet more senior people in their firm and create mentor / protege relationships that will help them further their careers. It robs them of the happy hours and lunches where friendships and relationships are made. It leaves them stuck in small apartments all week, waiting on home delivery everything, riddled with anxiety, and isolated.

As for the rest of the economy and society at large, we don’t need another real estate crisis, and we are quickly creating one. REITs (Real Estate Investment Trusts) and development groups own most of the commercial office buildings in major metro areas. These investment trusts make up a huge portion of the wealth in our country. Pension funds, life insurance agencies, college endowments, banks, and about every other manager of equity owns some of these assets. If the real estate goes unused, eventually the leases will dry up and rent will no longer be paid.

It only takes a comparatively small hiccup in these formerly stable markets before heavily leveraged REITs will begin to flag. Unable to backfill large Class A space, sell vacant assets, or refinance, they will begin to default. With the defaults will come the loss trillions of dollars of invested capital by some of the bedrock money managers in our country and the world at large. This isn’t some kind of a guess… it’s as sure as the sunrise. If large office users don’t renew leases or decide to take buyout options they might have in their current leases on a large enough scale, 2008 will look like an easy day.

Beyond that, office buildings are meant to be utilized. Companies need to look at their employees and explain to them that in order to keep their jobs, they need to be in the office. If they want to quit, let them and deal with that reality. It’s time to stop this insanity and crack the whip a little bit. Tell McKinzie her check is on her desk. If she wants it… put the French bulldog in doggie day care, put your hair back, dust off those work clothes and get back to work. There’s no other choice.

It feels good to be writing again! I hope everyone enjoyed it and have a GREAT Tuesday!

—Virgil