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Reactions of the Uninitiated~ Cerissa ~ Even though there are over 30 million households in the U.S. that are online in 1998, this only represents about 29% of the total number of households in the nation. Moreover, this percentage represents an increase from just 9% online in 1995 (HA! Atreides thought I couldn’t legitimately work data into this site!). Anyway, the point of bringing these statistics to your attention is to point out that people in general just aren’t sure of what to make of this "Internet Dating" stuff yet. The method of making dates via computer hasn’t yet acquired the respectable veneer enjoyed by traditional methods like picking up drunken strangers at closing time in Joe’s Pub. Everybody has heard of Internet Dating, of course (thank you HBO). And the strongest opinions on the subject come from people who don’t own a computer and think that e-mail is some new rate developed by the postal service (again, thank you HBO). Absolutely everyone you talk to . . . including my mother . . . has a story to share of a horrible Internet date experienced by a friend, or the child of a friend, or the third cousin of a friend of a co-worker, or even more likely, someone nobody she knows has ever met, but the daughter of a cousin of a friend had once heard about (likely on an HBO special). I was once foolish enough to tell the people at work that I was leaving town for the weekend in order to meet a man who I had first encountered online. The reactions that I encountered are shown in the pie chart below (ha again, Atreides!!!).
Oh, people are fascinated with the process. But, other than the few who think that it is a pretty cool notion and want to try it, their fascination is fueled by the same motive that makes people turn and stare at dead animals by the side of the road. They are convinced that, at best, you will encounter a revolting ogre who sent someone else’s photograph in an attempt to lure you onto a date; and at worst, they will never see you again because you will have been chopped up into little pieces and left in a National Forest to become bear chow. I am, as anyone who knows me will attest, somewhat chronologically challenged. On the weekend that I mentioned, I had regrettably become confused about the dates involved. Instead of Monday, as I had told the office, my return flight was not scheduled until Tuesday. I called work on Monday to let them in on this, but apparently to no avail. A Type 4 friend reportedly had difficulty keeping a Type 1 friend from calling the police to report that I may have been dumped into the Ottawa River. The Types 2 and 3 were meanwhile busy forming a betting pool as to when, or if, I’d ever return. After that, I kept news of my activities confined to a very few Type 4 friends. It’s not that I mind people thinking I’m crazy (I kind of enjoy that), but those turkeys didn’t even cut me in on the pool! As for you, gentle reader, by all means tell someone where you’re going. But, unless you, too, really get a kick out of people thinking you’re nuts, I would advise being very selective. |
