-“Doctor…I was right-swiped by more than 1,500 men—I just want one.”
Veronica X. is a dashing young post-doctoral student in a local college that does not know whether she wants to stay in Miami after her graduation. As she did not want to engage in a serious relationship that would limit her choices, she decided to try a dating app for some temporary company. She tried an application called Bumble where women have to make the 1st move.
For such a knockout gal the dating scene is full of choices of various kinds with instant gratification and the possibility to change anytime she wants. In the safe environment of her dorm, she enthusiastically whizzed through hundreds of profiles until she decided to “separate” four or five she liked. She contacted the first one and set up a date. Halfway through the date he was already propositioning her to skip dessert in order to hook up earlier. She was so disgusted that she picked up her belongings and skedaddled out.
The second one turned out to be married…The third one was a closeted gay. One of her recurrent complaints is that the scant content allowed by Tweeter does not enable a woman to fully appraise if her planned date is worth it. She has to take a good guess and cross her fingers that he will be “the one.” Moreover the possibility of having so many choices tempts women to go out with different dates in order “to see if there’s something better out there.” Forsaking traditional monogamy, the dating apps encourage “having flings.”
In my novel, Emily, the main character, shares her emotional frustration with Annie, her cousin and confidante, after she started dating again upon becoming a young widow.
–“Where are all the men?” Emily asked. “Where are they hiding?”
-“Men? What men?” Annie retorted.
-“Nice single guys that like the company of women—that’s who.”
As the last glimmer of light was slanting behind the yard’s pine tree line—in the 10th anniversary of William’s death—they were sharing a cup of coffee. Emily was feeling progressively less and less satisfaction from her material possessions, replaced by a widening spiritual void. Hedonic adaptation.
Emily grabbed her I-phone to scroll through her latest social feeds.
She shoved the apparatus into Annie’s face, practically fogging the screen.
-“Tell me the truth—is she really prettier than me, eh?”
-“What the fuck? Still following that asshole?”
-“Don’t want him to think that he still matters so—“
-“But he does… Gimme that!” said Annie, grabbing Emily’s phone.
Annie clicked “unfollow’ and then “unfriend” in Emily’s Facebook page.
-“There you are…End of story.” Annie said, handing her the phone back.
-“Can still follow him in Twitter—“
-“Whatever—what you’re looking for does not fit in a tart tweet.”
What do you think? Please tell us.
Don’t leave me alone.