Online dating has expanded into a billion-dollar industry over the years, and now more than one-third of U.S. marriages are stemming from the Web.
A semi-recent study, which was released back in May, went on to highlight this fact by surveying 19,131 people who married between 2005 and 2012. It determined that relationships that began online were successful and slightly less likely to crumble, compared with those whose didn't start online. Take that, conventionalists.
Even given all the statistics, though, there are still many skeptics on the topic. Whether they feel that online dating is silly or doomed for failure, they would not know until they've tried.
Coming from somebody with a track record of online dates, both failed and triumphant (err, sort of), not to mention a relationship that has proven its one-year-and-counting success thus far, I can relate to the study.
I may not be married currently, but I have peered into the online-dating portal, where some might be hesitant to roam, and have seen its hidden fortune.
Here's my story:
I recall sitting there, bored out of my mind. The lights, dim, the walls, lathered in sea-foam green from top to bottom with tacky portraits of wailing dandelions. For the record, I didn't choose the restaurant, she did. She was running late, either that or I'm just way too punctual. 36 minutes had passed and I was anxious and already two carafes of Sangria down. It was the middle of July, can you blame me?
At first I thought I was being stood up, or possibly being Punk'd, but I didn't see Ashton Kutcher's lanky frame in the background exploding in obnoxious guffaws, so I ruled out the latter.
At this one point I was borderline buzzed, so pretty much anything that came out of my mouth for the remainder of the evening I could not be held accountable for, I think. Suddenly, as I placed my glass upon the table and licked the sticky residue off of my nervously-chapped lips, she arrived. I recognized her from her picture. And to be honest, the photos didn't lie.
Clad in a Lavender sundress and a smile that commanded your attention, her incandescence could beam for days.
"Hi, I'm Tyler," I said, extending my arm. "Charmed, I'm Beth."
I've always hated first dates, especially when it's via the Internet. This wasn't my first time doing online dating and most certainly wasn't my last. This was more so just one of the few in my index that I care to recall.
"Hello good sir, her and I will start with an order of the seared foie gras (pronounced fwah-grah) and sautéed apples, and possibly some of the herb roasted breadsticks," I called out to the waiter.
She instantly giggled. "Crap," I thought to myself. It dawned on me later that I had foolishly pronounced it foy-grass.; she was a French major, of course. What a rookie mistake from the get-go.
Throughout dinner we talked and talked, and to my credit, I carried much of the conversation; I was on a roll. I felt like I was dominating the date and then some. It was like a real connection.
At the end of the date, as I walked Beth to her car, I clenched my moist palms together, anticipating the culmination of our evening.
"Well, see ya," she said, holding her hand in the air in a position that looked like it was expecting a reciprocated high-five. "It was a real pleasure."
Wait, was this really happening? Did the conversation lack substance? Was I overly buzzed? Could she sense that I had lied about my height? (You're allowed 1-2 inches.) Did she not like the restaurant? Is it because I pronounced it foy-grass? Did I not appear as wry as my online-self indicated? Should I not have gone with the bow tie? Because I gawked at the waitress? Perhaps it was my incongruent hairline?
"Screw it," I said to myself. And with that I lunged my hand into hers and gave her the hardest, most bro-worthy of bros high-five I could. Like, seriously, as if her hand were a brick wall and I was a 19-year-old bellicose frat boy all over again. It was magic.
Online dating is funny, in a way. Albeit its unconventional approach, it grants you the opportunity to do things that you couldn't normally do in traditional pre-dating exercises. It allows you to be meticulous. Not picky, but particular. I mean, if you're going to be latched on to this person for x amount of months or years, wouldn't you like a little preview prior to a casual sit-down? Hell, that's one of the reasons I signed up for it in the first place. That and because nobody finds me funny in person, but that's beside the point.
For months and months I perused through the dating website(s), effortlessly, hoping to make that initial click with someone on a textual basis. It was hard. It was akin to looking for a job. When grazing through the online descriptions there's always that section that you just don't like. Whether it's an innocuous spelling error or the fact that they listed "watching TV" as a hobby, the grievances are inevitable. But in the end you settle for what's there and keep your fingers crossed it goes well; everybody's different.
I didn't have a specific outlet I'd use, I just tried them all. From the free services at OkCupid and Plenty of Fish to pay-for-use sites like Match and eHarmony, the dating pool was at my fingertips. And until you've logged on to one of these sites, you can't really be sure what to expect. I imagine women probably have a harder time on there, what with all the brave yet bawdy men cyber-approaching them in brash emails that are usually drenched in salacious innuendos, further reminding them that it was a bad idea to join in the first place. But I wasn't like that. I was more of an observer, taking what I saw from their profile and carefully implementing it into my suitor letter with few words. That's what I called it, a suitor letter.
Two times out of ten, the recipient would respond. That's not a statistic, that's just my own poor luck. And usually when they would respond they would either provide a one-sentence reaction or just never answer again. It was as if they had just fallen off the face of the Internet. That or found someone with nicer abs, whichever. But that was the beauty behind all of this, was that you could just carry on. Chances are you would probably never meet these people outside of the Internet-dating realm, so you got to just move forward.
I had a few more dates following the upset of Beth. At first I was incredulous, as I was in the beginning of all of this. It was like falling off of a bike and scraping your knee. You become swollen with skepticism about getting back on that you don't. But then you realize that you must overcome all of that nonsense. You must be victorious.
The dates, on average, were usually quite flop-worthy. Nothing ever really came from them, unless you consider awkward bar banter and cheap meals a worthwhile romantic panacea for your aching love pangs, then sure.
I mean don't get me wrong, I'm not an idealist; I don't sit around and fixate upon quixotic fantasies of courting a perfect 10. You know, one that graduated from Harvard Law magna cum laude who's fluent in three languages with a killer smile and athletic body who can both chat my ear off about European austerity measures while simultaneously sporting a Boston Celtics jersey on a Thursday night, but also has the intuition to discern a Phillips head from a Flathead -- my, what a beautiful amalgam. I'm pretty positive those only exist in some sort of love-lapsed reverie, though. Either that or a Nicholas Sparks flick in reverse.
After about five or six of those flop-worthy dates, I began to get anxious again. Not to say that I was "on the clock" so to speak, but you can't help but feel silly for investing time and money into these sites and continue to lack success. But then, one day, I stumbled upon a gal. She was local, too, which was a perk because some of my dates in the past had been located elsewhere, outside of my 40-mile rule. Hey, gas was expensive at the time, sue me.
The girl -- who will remain nameless, not because she's my girlfriend and would kill me, but because she's in a witness protection program right now -- had everything I was looking for. She was a brunette, similar in height, athletic, a health and fitness freak, and boasted a cool, eclectic taste in entertainment. I just had to click her.
Shortly after, we got to talking and to my surprise she was actually quite eloquent. I'm a writer so I am constantly judging people on their grammar and scrutinizing their hyphenations. Yeah, it's borderline obnoxious. But between the conversations, I noticed, and I think she did too, that we actually had a lot to talk about. There was that connection that I was searching for and we hadn't even talked over the phone yet.
We exchanged about seven lengthy messages throughout that week, and with an upcoming vacation on my end, I decided that we just had to meet. I took the initiative to set the date, and with that, we met the following weekend. I'm not going to elaborate too much on it because a) let's face it, you've probably already stopped reading, and b) it was about as comfortable and first date-worthy as you might expect it to be.
Regardless, we are still together and slowly approaching the two-year mark. So, to think that a couple of years ago I was in such a different position, opposed to the grasps of the online-dating world, I luckily gave it one last shot and landed where I am today.
Who knows what's in store for our future. But when it comes to love, one thing for certain is that you should never be afraid to put yourself out there, even if it means you have to date a few Beths to get there.
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