Reality Bites: Online Dating Rituals of the American Male
On one hand, I feel sorry for you single people. The dating world, from what I can tell, is insane. The number of sites and apps competing for your attention, in addition to the work involved creating a compelling online persona, looks exhausting. And then there's the effort put into sifting through thousands of potential mates. Before you've even gone on Date 1, you've done more research than a doctoral student on his third dissertation defense.
On the other, I spent my single years in an environment where you had to practically sign a lease together before determining if the other person shared your views on child rearing, the designated hitter, and John Carpenter movies; information which is available these days to anyone at the click of a mouse. So I can see both sides.
What's not debatable, however, is that if the dudes on Bravo's new show -- Online Dating Rituals of the American Male -- are representative of America's single men, you women are really screwed.
Disclaimer: I have been married since last century. "Online dating," in the capacity we recognize it, did not exist when my wife and I first got together. You had computer and video dating, but that was somewhat less sophisticated:
OMRotAM follows a different (unrelated) pair of bachelors each week as they attempt to navigate the treacherous world of selfies and "compatibility ratings" in attempt to find true love, or a reasonable temporary facsimile thereof.
First up is 38-year old Adey, a self-described badass who may very well be the first graphic designer I've encountered who called himself an "outlaw" with a straight face (he designs biker gear, and as we all know, no poser has ever ridden a motorcycle). He's had one girlfriend. Ever. And is looking for a long-term relationship to satisfy the empty hole in his life left by an absentee mother (I could be reading too much into his comments).
Scott is 37 is a surfer/mountaineer/paramedic/budding combover expert looking to get married. He laments the embarrassment of online riches, but finds one woman who shares his love of sports *and* sends him lingerie pics, which is enough to secure a lunch date, evidently. I don't want to know what's required for dinner and a movie.
The girl in question, Alycia, is a mere ten years younger, and doesn't make the best first impression -- "What part of L.A. are you from?" Scott asks. "Um, Los Angeles." -- but he's willing to overlook this because boobs. He resents her for not figuring out his comment comparing love to a fart was a joke possibly because it, like he, is spectacularly unfunny). And then to top everything off, his credit card doesn't work, because his ex-girlfriend still has one from the same account and apparently still uses it.
Huh, guess that part got lost among all his shirtless beach photos.
Adey bitches that his go-cart date Brittany looks better in her online pics. I wish he'd turn it around and ask her how she feels about dating a guy who has to get a ride to the track with a friend (he's got a suspended driver's license). I was waiting for someone offscreen to get in a Karate Kid joke ("I really like your car, Mrs. LaRusso!"). To be fair, she does dog him about how he "dresses like a 19-year old."
And did he really bring *his own gloves* to go go-kart racing? Jesus Jones, he did! Oh, and he complains about how she drives. On a go-kart track. And did I mention he has a suspended license (or "trouble with the law," as he calls it)? He's a loner, Brittany. A rebel.