SCENE: Online dating message chat.
TIME: The not-so-late hour of 8 pm-ish.
CHARACTERS: Myself, and A person identified by what I presume to be initials
He: hey can we exchange #s?
Me: As in phone numbers? Maybe.
He sends his phone number.
Now at this point we had made about 6 short exchanges in one conversation. He had asked my name, which shouldn't have been a mystery since it was in my profile, so it's clue #1 that maybe he isn't paying attention or hasn't even read it. I myself had just learned this man's name after asking. So everything going through my head is not in his favor. But his profile is interesting enough, he's lived all over the world and his work appears to be passionate and interesting. He caught my attention.
Me: I don't love talking on the phone to people I don't know....what were you hoping would happen with that?
Keep in mind, I'm doing just fine on the keys of chat. Nothing is compelling me to increase this level of connection. And I suspect he does not realize how much information a phone number provides.
So I plug his ten digits into a google search, the simplest version of investigation I don't even know if I need.
Meanwhile, he acknowledges he just thought it would be easier to chat on the phone.
Within about 1 minute I have located online what I believe to be his full name and his last two cities of residence. And I reveal that by verifying what I found.
He: wow how did you dig that up?
Me: You gave me your phone number.....Now you might see why a woman may not want to disclose such information rapidly.
He: wow. no shit. that is the last time I give out my number.
And - This has taken a very strange turn. Thank you for enlightening me on how easy it was to look me up.
Okay. So now my female brain is only thinking, darn, the tone is set, I don't even know this person and I'm already the person who seems to have more sense, more presence, maybe more sense of self-preservation and maybe I just headed off a waste of any more time. This is a fundamentally female brain experience (I think), that the bigger picture is everywhere, all the time. So I ask.
Me: What usually happens when you give out your number?
He: A lady calls or texts. One didn't, but I didn't take it personally.
And then I take stock of how there's probably no point to any of this. I already know I can make a chat fun, fast and witty and enjoy that for what it is worth. But I'm not really likely to meet a stranger 7 months into a pandemic, a stranger who tells me he usually meets up with people masked, gets to-go coffees and goes on walks. I mean, that sounds sort of reasonable, but risky enough that I'd have to think I really like someone before I do that.
What I didn't know at the time was that as my comedy was unfolding, my teen was in her room slogging through AP Biology and dissolving under the weight of life. Looming college deadlines, a mom she needs at 11 pm but rarely accepts when much more easily available (and awake) all day long on the weekends, a crap week behind her.
So we snuggled up and slept together. I woke up this morning wondering why in the world this seems remotely important, to be dabbling at all through the ether of online dating. Because that is an excellent metaphor for what it is like - a pleasant-smelling volatility, used as an anesthetic for the pandemic process of fatigue and isolation.
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