So, I'm reading this book-- "Me and Mr. Darcy" by Alexandra Potter. Long story short, it's about a woman who is my age, who works in a bookstore in New York City and holds every man she dates up to "Mr. Darcy" standards. It's a fluffy little paperback, which has been fairly enjoyable, save for the fact that the author completely (and purposely) plagiarizes one of the greatest love stories ever written. Oh, that and the fact that she justifies the idea of weighing every real-life man against the one guy who drips with more swagger than any other fella in literature (sorry, Christian Grey), which is only mildly unrealistic (rolling my eyes). The man does not exist (saaaaaaaadly). I've looked. Okay, I haven't-- but maybe I ought to. The most reliable man in my life weighs roughly twelve pounds, is hairier than the dickens, and has an under bite that is only exaggerated by a slight snaggletooth. Something tells me I need to aim a little higher than that.
What does this have to do with this particular blog? Well, here is this character-- Mr. Darcy-- this "ideal man"-- and he is brought before his audience in a time when courtship was incredibly different than it is today. Letters, not e-mails. Poetry, not texts. Men actually came to your house-- they didn't just "show up" someplace because they saw you "check in" on Facebook. And back then, you could go months without corresponding or even seeing them. You may even live a day's travel away from your love interest. Seems kind of tragic, actually, but I guess that's because it goes against what we are accustomed to here in the 21st century. Thanks to technology, we are a society of little (if any) patience (or privacy).
So, my question is: Does technology make today's relationships easier, or harder?
Computers. iPhones. Social networks. Do they hurt or help us? Honestly? Stop to consider it (because I certainly have), or I wouldn't have started scribbling this down in a worn-out spiral notebook, drinking a bottomless cup of coffee at 10:30 p.m. (which, from the taste of it, came from the restaurant's dinner rush). Whatever. I am a resilient breed. Nobody ever died from hours-old Folgers (or have they?....) Okay, sorry. You know how it goes with me sometimes-- I fly off somewhere towards Never-Neverland-- "second star to right and straight on til morning,"-- but I'm coming back around now. Ready? Awesome. Here we go.
Convenience. We thrive off of it. Instant gratification. We pay our bills online. We use GPS, and its creepy, condescending, phone-sexy voice to guide us to new destinations. Hell, we don't even have to get out of our cars to get a meal. Gift cards enable us to put as little thought as possible into giving a gift. E-cards eliminate the experience of actually mailing something to someone. It's all pretty sad. Sure, it saves us time, but whatever happened to good, old-fashioned effort?-- In regards to anything? The level of "convenience" that has come about as a result of all of our technological advancements has, without surprise, filtered down to the dating scene.
Online dating-- and heaven forbid-- speed dating. The name alone implies convenience and (in my opinion) complete and utter laziness.
Hi. My name is So-n-So. I am going to spend a whopping 120-seconds assessing
whether or not we are "meant to be", because I am really just too busy and
self-involved to spend more than two minutes getting to know you.
I have never done (nor would I ever do) the whole speed-dating scene, so it may seem unfair for me to attack the process, but come on. The concept just kills me. It's plain lazy. Mr. Darcy would have never tried speed-dating. Ever. Elizabeth Bennett would've scoffed at the notion as well (although her idiot sisters would've pounced on the idea). Back in those days, men (and women) took their time. They invested time and thought when it came to courtship, and as a result, we have these tales of real romance that have stood the test of time. I realize that these are fictitious accounts of Jane Austen, but this type of dating was customary for the time, and here we are, a couple of hundred years later (Pride and Prejudice actually turns 200 this coming year), still starry-eyed and dreamy over the Darcy/Bennett romance, wishing it would show its face in present day form.
Fast-forward to (nearly) 2013, and you can practically hand-select your date from a computerized list of faces and names that "meet your criteria". Non-smoker. Loves dogs. Active. Enjoys the symphony and long walks on the beach.-- and all that crap. Really? Am I the only one who is saddened by this? I have had several friends defend the process, and even know couples who met online who are now married and have children, but I remain unconvinced. You are asked to fill out a "profile" about yourself. What is this? A job interview? It should be more natural, and yet, because it is "more convenient" we have begun to literally manufacture relationships through these processes. We have made romance synthetic. It has become plastic. Certainly not what Jane Austen had in mind, and yet women wonder why they can't find their "Mr. Darcy".-- because he doesn't have an online dating profile, that's why.
He also didn't strictly correspond through e-mail. Think about it. Without much time or thought, you can tap-tap-tap, click "send", and satisfy your communication requirement for your relationship. The object of your affection can be the recipient of your thoughts and feelings as often as you would like. As a result of this, yes correspondence may become more frequent, but does it also have the tendency to become less meaningful? In Darcy's day, he didn't have the opportunity to pop off an e-mail on a whim. No, he had to take time to think about what he wanted to say, in a letter (no backspace key, mind you) and God knows, with as painstaking as it is to use a quill and parchment, that guy sure as hell didn't want to have to start the whole letter over because he changed his mind about what he wanted to say. That would suck. No, back then, people had to exercise real thought and sincerity in how they pursued relationships. No two-line e-mails. No "LOL"s. No empty text messages. Sentiments were heartfelt and the recipient knew it. I am not saying that e-mails and text messages don't help us to some extent when it comes to building relationships-- they do. There is a certain element of safety and confidence that exists when you have a digital barrier in place to protect your pride. There is also less agony in awaiting a response than back in Austen's day. Imagine waiting a month to hear from someone? Given how we live, we get antsy if we have to wait an hour for a response from someone. Love and commitment and attraction were truly tested back then-- a sort of "survival of the fittest" approach. If you could hold out and be patient, you could be rewarded with something lasting. Talk about resolve-- it adds a whole new layer to the concept of "pining for someone" (geez, I love that word-- too much). Instead, we have a world filled with quick, easy, impersonal contact, and it makes me wonder if it contributes to the fact that real love stories seem to be becoming an endangered species.
Now, there are many who would argue that, without modern-day technology, it would be next to impossible to actually meet someone these days. Today's society is one of chaotic, fast-paced lives. I am not entirely disagreeing with that. Technology does help, but what takes place between two people, beyond that point, as a result of technology, troubles me. Yes, all the digital socializing enables us to make that initial connection, but what does it do for us in regards to maintaining that relationship, or cutting those ties? You know what I'm talking about. You part ways with someone, but you are still strapped to them in some form or fashion, because of social media. Their lives are still thrust in front of you on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. They are able to trash-talk you to the world, and you are able to read it. Or, they can move on with someone else, and you are able to see that, too. Your connection to that person lingers on, long after you have parted ways, because they are instantly accessible to you, and you to them. In the days of Jane Austen, they did not struggle with this issue, or at least probably not as much. I am sure that once-couples probably crossed paths in town, or at the occasional ball or social gathering, but for the most part, I would be willing to bet that the longer someone was "out of sight" the more quickly they became "out of mind". No such luck today, unfortunately. Even with every "unfriending" or "blocking" feature we put into place, we are all still out there, tied to each other through mutual contacts and digital social circles. There is no escape, unless you have a heart of stone and are willing to turn a blind eye to it all, which, let's face it, most of us are incapable of doing. If only we still lived in an out-of-sight-out-of-mind sort of world where technological windows did not exist. We would be able to move on from past relationships far more efficiently, and in a more healthy fashion, thus leaving us open to the real love story that just might be waiting for us around the corner.
This isn't a technology-bashing blog. I mean-- I'm sitting here clicking on a laptop, able to broadcast my random train of thought to the world, because of technology and social media. But when it comes to relationships, and getting back to the root of what makes them last, I think that technology, while initially helpful, hurts us in the long-run. It prevents us from achieving a certain level of intimacy that is essential for making that Austen-esque love story that makes us jump up and down and do our "happy dance" over that certain someone (when they aren't looking, of course), possible. Real connections don't last as a result of digital correspondence. They endure because two people make an honest and balanced effort to connect and to build something, whether it is in friendship or romance or something else entirely. Anybody can hit "send". Anybody can "LOL". Anybody can "like" your post on Facebook. Is that what we really what we want to invest in or count on? Really? Connections that barely skim below the surface of who we are? I don't. Perhaps that is why I find so much enjoyment in sitting and watching people have face-to-face social interactions. It renews my faith that maybe there are still people out there who believe in what I believe in-- authentic human connections that survive beyond and beneath the surface of all the technological "conveniences" that, over the span of time, aren't really conveniences at all.
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