Love in the Time of the Interwebnets

I wonder, how hard is it to keep up on a blog? Apparently, for me, hard to remember I have this blog - with all the new internet time wasters (facebook, myspace, twitter) that seemingly have taken over my life. I now know exactly what my friends all over the country are doing at any given second - giving me another reason to not pick up the phone and call them, or god forbid, write an actual letter. What is happening to us?

Just tonight I had my very own "he's just not that into you" moment - all via text message. Luckily, with only one date under the belt (and, damn, it was a good date, too!) it's not a huge loss, and much better to get a short little text than an awkward telephone call - or none at all. It was really making me think. In between beating myself up over not being psychic enough to realize there wouldn't be a second date, and stressing that I somehow did something wrong, I realized - maybe dating isn't hard. Maybe it's the massive amounts of technological support we have that makes us, dare I say, dating retarded?

You meet someone. You go home and check to see if they're on MySpace or Facebook. 90% of the time they are. You find out what they're about. Where they went to school, what they listen to, what kind of movies they watch, books they read ... Then you do the ever wonderful Google search. You find out they won the Science Fair their junior year of high school. What ever happened to going into first dates blind and having to feign interest in hearing about a science fair project? MySpace is your first date!

As I have mentioned in the past, I am recently back in the dating game after a long hiatus of being off the market. The last time I was actively dating, i'd call and hang up. Yes, it was (almost) that long ago. Or, if we're talking about my rock star days, i'd be the one getting the hangups from nervous Brooklyn hipsters. I've realized that I can date here on Long Island - it has to be outside my comfort zone- and maybe it won't be horrible. Going on my past track record, I seem to have had the most success with artistically tattooed, sensitive boys. And if by success I mean doomed long-term relationships, then yes. Out here on Long Island, i'm lucky to find someone who knows who Joey Ramone was, let alone who Mike Ness is.

Coming home, I dated (if you can call it that) local townie boy (who, by the way, i managed to get some post-Boardy Barn cocktails with Sunday night, but that's a whole other can of worms). Completely not "my type". Completely small town - we knew every embarrassing story about each other even before he copped a feel during Juno. Needless to say, completely doomed. In trying to branch out, I met a seemingly nice guy at a bar recently, and agreed to go on a date. I got over my punkrock ideals very quickly, and happily accepted the fact he was a police officer - a NYPD officer none the less. Hey, it's Long Island. Cop or Construction? Investments or Mortgages? Due to this guy's age (a whopping 12 years on me, but I swear you wouldn't know), there was no Myspace/Facebook checkups, and due to his name, all I got when I googled him was the Zapruder film. Complete strike out. Even adding to the blind date-ness was when I realized that I wouldn't be able to pick out this guy from a crowd, thanks to spending the earlier part of the night pounding shots at the Drift.

A nice date to a baseball game (Yankees, one redeeming point) turned into many drinks (thanks, rain delay) and many long phone conversations and text messages. I found myself actually being interested in this person! I liked hearing about his "collars" and he liked hearing about my dogs! He insisted i'd one day love U2! I promised him he'd love marrow bones and veal cheeks! We had nothing in common, except for our Irish heritage (which, crazily, i've embraced like mad since I got back up here). Suddenly, with no warning - goodbye! Zip. Done. The typical blow-off. Maybe I shouldn't have called U2 the most overrated band in history. Maybe I should have told him my favorite food was McNuggets. If I was more sensitive, i'd probably be a bit more upset about this. I'd probably tear up. I'd probably go get a pint of Ben and Jerry's. But, no, friends, I had the glorious, glorious text message. The saving grace.

If I had been able to e-stalk him, i'd probably have found out details about him that would have most likely convinced me to not go on that first date. (I really don't need to mention U2 again, do I?) I'd have found out he graduated college when I was in fifth grade. I'd have found out he's in the midst of a divorce. I'd have found out he lives too far away, and i'd have realized it would have never worked. But, hey, at least I got that text message. Maybe technology isn't all that bad. Maybe it does make us socially awkward and like stealth spies, but it also seems to help us from the inevitable, awkward collapse. Or telephone call. Or, best case scenario: text message blow off.

So, what are my plans for this weekend? I'm goin' fishin'. For guys. First thing I ask them? "What's your Myspace?"

Download: Gym Class Heroes - New Friend Request