.com Coupling
The ambience was right, the setting perfect. My date and I were sitting side-by-side on the rooftop of a classy London bar. Strains of jazz filled the air, its notes wafting in the cool evening breeze. As if on cue to the music, 'James' (all names have been changed to protect the guilty) took another swig of Stella Artois. He was rip-roaringly drunk.
"So...did you see last week's Universh-eety Challenge?" he intoned, with a colossal effort to form the words. Visions of Paxo were admittedly not what I had in mind as discussion fodder for a first date, but then again, I had ventured into the weird, wacky world of internet dating.
It started in an unlikely way: my friend Laura, bored of mis-matched dates, signed up to match.com, a popular dating website. Within hours of posting her profile, she had received several e-mails from hopeful, nervous chaps; within a month she had found her Romeo, a cat-loving guitar player who cooked wonderful Lebanese meals for two and took her to Bon Jovi concerts.
"You should try internet dating," urged Laura, pausing in this declaration to gaze meaningfully into her beloved's eyes. Only a month before, this would have been unthinkable, after I had spent a glorious summer with my (then) boyfriend. But by August the bubble had burst, our relationship was over, and, in true .com fashion, I found myself surfing the internet. Not without trepidation, I scrolled through the adverts: the banal 'Not Your Average Guy' rubbed shoulders with 'Writer Seeks His Muse.'
More exotic flavours of internet pairing could be had with a click of the mouse. 'Personality matching', which promised to match one with a partner based on the percentage of common answers from a questionnaire, seemed rather far-fetched. As for the photos, which not everyone put up, most were, surprisingly, decent. A few profiles were even encouraging. Out of those, I selected James, a recent graduate, and Simon the Rower, the latter looking like a hunky outdoor trekker from his picture.
"Since you go to Oxford... you might have bumped into Ro-shamund Pike." James clearly liked sh-lurring his syllables. At that point I realised one fact of internet dating: that blind dates are like Russian roulette. Chances are, the person you meet will turn out to be respectable, but there is a small percentage of disaster. Indeed, by the time James had finished his drink, I was ready to make a hasty exit.
Next up was Simon the Rower. He acted every inch the gentleman, taking me to a cozy Italian restaurant, engaging in literary conversation (he was even educated at Shakespeare's school in Stratford). But alas, there was no chemistry, and sparks need to fly in order for two people to fall in love.
For the unintiated, the profusion of websites to choose from can be confusing, but each has its own slant. Some cater to students, others to professionals, still others to 30-something lawyers stuck in the office and needing to Get a Life.
Not to be outdone, Oxford boasts its own brand of luurve matching: oxfordromance.org.uk, run by Alice Oven and Gemma Varley, both at Wadham. The site has some interesting profiles. There might be a few 'Bored Finalists', but by and large, the group is eclectic. The 'Warrior Princess' seeking a man to conquer might blanch at the 'Young Fogey' who prefers 'naturally balding, mildly sadistic Tories' for a 'wild, intellectual romance.' More daringly, 'Lady Godiva' invites would-be suitors to 'Come ride with me...to Coventry.'
Both men and women are spoilt for choice. Female classicists take note - one man's profile includes an allusion to a Greek story of strange beasts with four legs, four arms, and two heads back to back, who were punished by the gods by being struck in half and hence now roam the earth 'searching for our missing part, longing to be whole once more.'
If longing to be whole is innate in our nature, it's no wonder that society has invented new ways to search for that ideal partner.
Although internet dating is certainly not a panacea, bedevilled as it is with limitations, the fact that it exists highlights a common condition: most people want to be loved and cherished, to have someone to cuddle up to on cold winter nights. There are, of course, those who remain single-but who knows, it may only be a matter of scratching the surface of the defiant singleton to find at heart a lonely soul 'looking for love.'
But enough of this philosophizing. I'm tempted to write my own profile. How about: 'Beatrice seeks Benedick: Exotic historian seeks gallant gentleman for a sparring of wit and intellect. Romance and tenderness essential?'
19th Feb 2004