Dating Website Plights

Flipping through a pile of electronic baseball cards searching for the player we’enjoy’. Checking the stats. Doubting their veracity.

1 online Dating Service that I’m on let me know that 1,637 individuals were busy at 4 AM searching for me (perhaps) but if not really for me… but they were all looking really. We swipe left or right as if there were political sticks in operation. We Conserve those we might desire (or with whom we’re interested ) and we Liberally dispel others to the ether of obscurity.

Flipping through a pile of electronic baseball cards searching for the player we’enjoy’. Checking the stats. Doubting their veracity. Folding them back to the pile. No more thought required. Click.

This is the way we find our’Date Mate’ or fulfill our’Match’, we look in the aquarium at’Plenty of Fish’ where we expect to obtain a’Silver Single’ or somebody to’Mingle’ with. Can there be’True Harmony’? … or are we being dot conned?

Do not get me wrong, I see {} a modern contrivance, but it slants the taste of the individual we hunt for by tainting them in this procedure. And it leaves a nasty little ring around the empty tub of our lives.

Both the hunted and the searcher are obscured and altered through this procedure. It’s inorganic and antiseptic in the best.

The mass-media prostitution of ourselves because we primp our profiles in the expectation of’discovering’. We’select a name’ and then whittle the truths and attempt to highlight the part of us we hope will ignite a kindred interest. We write ourselves into a text box and’rescue’. We endlessly edit ourselves, selling the sizzle and trusting someone wants the beef. We take our bet in a pool of abilities and aspire to rise above them. Later we feel burnt at that bet as the amount of our artificial worth feels undetected.

Flipping past photographs using a hedonistically critical eye. Tossing aside a human being for the arbitrary pound, a jagged tooth, a well-earned pair of smile lines, or the audacity of cultural deviation. We’re Progressive Peeping Toms immersed in an oddly voyeuristic exercise. But worse, we’re changed in the practice of it. We diminish as we discount.

Skimming over a soul like they had been a coffee table book can’t be without consequences. The ease by which a thing is dehumanized must have repercussions as we toggle to the upcoming two-dimensional depiction. Hoping to get a tantalizing tid-bit… a wicked grin? … a buxom pose? … a titillating name? … Rock-hard abs? Peeking through keyholes…

This is the Sears Catalog of courtship — or for anyone who have teeth not as long as mine — the Amazon Prime of it. We bid farewell to a little our self-respect as we place on the Craig’s List of hungry hearts. On the lookout for a’best offer’.

We pay a fee to be reduced to a two-dimensional image drop of depth and breath — our heartfelt reach is reduced to trite phrasing or laid out in unfettered honesty to possibly be’box checked’ and deleted. Leaving us oblivious of if we’ve been read — certainly never feeling seen. The contrived conversation that resides in a message box and yearns to advance to mere texting. To only have the ability to observe an uploaded picture’s unblinking eyes rather than the animator behind them. A parallel world where we let people know”These pictures are Present”. As we sort those words into the glued profile’pic’ and we harbor a little hope. We fight back the latent jadedness that lurks behind the empty message box since the dis-functional chat, we completely embraced, sadly disappears. The callous thickens… fundamental needs, nevertheless un-met, are squashed under the guise of disinterest. As another small bit of us withers inside.

We’re wary of predators and default. Where do you live? You do not look 45! What’s your name? Would you really like character or are you attempting to lure me into the trodden trail? Why do you keep watching my profile is it attention or cyberstalking?

And now the dreadful crux of the prose… We know all this and we choose it. ‘Alone’ is a vast, gloomy, and vacant space. It’s important not to allow it to be.

We wish to harmonize in tune — I do. There’s a magic in a twinkled glance, since the film plot turns, and you discuss it — you need to. Billy Joel’s’Piano Man’ reminds us”that we’re sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it’s far better than drinking alone. Whether we find a’Real-estate novelist’ or Davey (who is still in the Navy) or the waitress who is practicing politics.” We each hope that it is’me’ that they are coming to see… not to forget about life for a while — but to cut through the crass and the mess and discover a genuine heart to touch.

Protect the inherent miracle of your’self’. Know about how the fire is tamped down but try to not allow it. Reach cautiously for the brass ring on this Merry-go-Round of optimistic seekers. Great luck with your search. May love (and I) find you while there’s still a sweet piece of each of us left.

Oh, and by the way — the Sweetness climbs back! We can flower over and over. We must!

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