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Apart from feeling bad for them being socially impelled to take the initiative (with the exception of the rude ones who wouldn’t take no for an answer), I was struck by the arbitrariness of it all. You interact with the people who happen to be there, in the hope that one of them might be the sort of person you’d want to get to know better.
After the last guy – who stood uncomfortably close, smelled overwhelmingly of something like Lynx Africa and looked like his shirt was sprayed on from a can – strode back to his friends in a huff at rejected advances, I’d had enough.
His response: “You’re a passive-aggressive crackerass bitch.” Bye Felipe is humorous and entertaining, certainly, but something slightly more unsettling is afoot here.
These texts reflect a larger malaise in dating, both offline and on: a man’s sense of entitlement, an undercurrent of aggression, his petulance at not readily getting what he wants, and women’s hostility and reluctance to engage.
Academics at the University of Michigan have just published a study into the online behaviour of 1,855 people who signed up to a dating website in the New York/New Jersey area.
They observed 1.1 million decisions made when users browsed profiles or when potential partners corresponded with each other online.
Their methodology was as follows: “We present a general strategy for estimating discrete choice models that can identify both slopes and knots for continuous attributes, and also allow for multiple decision stages (ie browsing and writing) and multiple observations per stage (ie multiple instances of browsing and writing for each user).”And so say all of us.
“Instead of going on a one-on-one date, we were both going to Longitude [festival] so we said we’d meet at that.
Online dating is ostensibly a straightforward affair.
You like the look of somebody online and you try and find a common interest. It either works out or you move on to the next person.
About three years ago, I was sitting with a female friend in a bar on a frantic Saturday night in Dublin.
By the end of the night, several worse-for-wear men had wandered in our direction and attempted – some more ably than others – to strike up a conversation.