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Tuesday, Oct 7, 2008
True-life tales of lust, horror -- and marital bliss -- from the world of online romance.
Nov 11, 2002 | Just one week ago, we kicked off a new feature by asking readers to regale us with stories about online dating. Tell us about your match made in heaven, we said; describe your match made in hell. A thrilling inundation followed, and we find ourselves with plenty to publish -- and many online dating truths to ponder.
At the risk of sounding like peddlers of chicken soup for the online dater's soul, we have got to say that, after reading dozens of cyber dating stories, we believe that surviving this weird ritual seems to have a lot to do with attitude. A healthy curiosity, skills of denial, and rationalization also help. But a sunny outlook, that appears to be the ticket.
Take Sean Egen of Los Angeles. He wrote to describe a hellish entanglement, but refused to adopt the "hell" label or the pity it might engender, saying his submission "could technically also be considered a 'heaven' submission since I get great sex and get to walk away from a crazy woman -- without any restraining orders!" His tale of being dumped because he pitched his date's energetic terrier off the bed during sex ends not with regret or self-loathing but with this observation: "It's no stereotype that crazy women are great in bed. The sex was amazing."
There's the spirit!
Even our happiest correspondents, the satisfied customers of online dating, seem to have gotten where they are today -- shacked up, planning nuptials, buying stuff from Ikea -- through the rigorous rejection of defeat. They too have been duped by old photos and pawed by psychotics, they too have run backward out of restaurants with their coats still buttoned. Inevitably, their happy-ending stories started like this: "I had basically given up when I received an e-mail that I decided to check out," or this: "I'd largely given up the idea of finding anything online but pen pals and friends and research material." But they end with round-trip tickets to Sydney and the joint adoption of dogs. They end, in Melissa McEwan's case, with passionate utterances: "Had it not been for online dating, our paths might never have crossed, although, the thought of that being too dreadful to bear, we like to think they would have anyway."
Of course, there are those who have given up, who write to describe that final indignation, the scary date that signaled the end of the game. (The woman who kept following the guy into the men's bathroom comes to mind.) Yet even these grim souls admit to lessons learned and a new grip on reality. Most often, they take their leave quietly, with few regrets, or at the very least, they rewrite their ads and lower their expectations. Kelly Froh bowed out gracefully in one paragraph:
"I went on eight dates in two months. I dated cowboys, rockers, nerds, Canadians, and older men. What I learned is that no matter what kind of connection you think you've made with them via e-mail and phone conversations, it's all out the window the minute he shows up and you look at each for the first time. There he is, two inches shorter than you, and there you are, 20 pounds heavier than you said you were. Oh, but it's all about personality right? All those 1,500-word e-mails, those hours on the phone? Well, sorry, but you are not his dream girl and he is not your dream guy. But wait, you said in your profile that you just wanted to date casually. Yeah, right! Everyone is looking for love, and love at first sight at that."
And she signed herself, "Happily single."
Most gratifying, perhaps, are the stories that occupy the DMZ of online dating, the tales that combine elements of heaven and hell and conclude with intimacy but no ceremonies. Jessi Langer took us on a wild ride full of entreaties, some crying, phone bills in outer space and a side trip to San Francisco. Her ending brought relief and applause: "He is still the wild, street-smart, sarcastic man I love, and I am still the bubbly social butterfly. I want to travel the world and he wants to stay where he is, I love to be busy and he prefers the simple life. We are the best of friends, and although we have decided that, at least right now, that should be the definition of our relationship, we will always love each other."
In printing these letters, we signal the regular appearance of "Match Made in Heaven, Match Made in Hell" in the Life site. We will print a new letter in each category as often as we can, carrying on for as long as the letters do. There is no deadline for submissions, which should be 500 words or less. The placement of your stories will be obvious, but just in case, please give them the appropriate subject line (Match Made in Heaven or Match Made in Hell).
It's important to note that all writing submitted becomes the property of Salon. We reserve the right to edit submissions and cannot reply to every writer. Interested contributors should send their stories either to heaven@salon.com or hell@salon.com.
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