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August 16, 2005
Guilty Pleasures -- Webring Assignment #3
This week's WEbring assignment comes courtesy of Ms. NYC Rouge. She says: Please confess a particular guilty pleasure that brings you some bit of shame. I was torn over this entry, because there isn't a lot that I'm ashamed about. But then I realized that I only needed to identify something that brings me some bit of shame--and that was lots easier.
So here it goes: my guilty pleasure is internet dating.
Whew, there it's out. I feel so much better! Well, not so much--after all, there is a little bit of shame associated with this activity.
It's strange to say that I actually got into internet dating from an old boyfriend. We dated for awhile, decided it wasn't going to work out, but were still quite cordial--in a friends with benefits sort of way. He had been doing Match.com for a while, and actually dated the girl who eventually set the two of us up (I guess he remains cordial with all his exes). Anyway, he made it seem normal enough that I decided to give it a try. So, I've done it off and on for the last 3 years.
(Although there was a big chunk of time in Sweden where no internet dating happened at all--I feel strongly that the line between "normal internet dating" and "freaky-mail-order-bride internet dating" is determined in the distance between the two people.)
And while I haven't found the love of my life, I have gone on many, many fun dates (and a few terrible ones) and have even dated people for months at a time. I think that one of the best things about internet dating is that you aren't friends beforehand. That means that when there isn't chemistry on both sides, or the relationship just isn't going to work, there's no sadness that "the friendship will never be the same." You just go on leading your normal life.
Most of my friends don't seem phased by the idea of internet dating (and a fair share have tried it themselves), but my parents are appalled. As my mother says, "if you marry this guy, we'll have to tell people you met through friends." At least now that I've successfully dated these guys for months on end, they are less concerned that I'll end up dead in a ditch, with some strange cult markings on my naked body.
And that, dear readers, is my guilty pleasure.
I should also mention my habit of going to Whole Foods in the dead of cold, gray winter, just to smell the produce and convince myself that somewhere out there the sun is still shining.
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For other commentary on "Guilty Pleasures", see:
Post No Bills
A Prize in Every Box
Bad Apologies
Wish to See
A Little Maryment
