Those whom God wishes to destroy, He first makes angry.

Which naturally brings me to the vast and at times soul-eating downside of Internet dating. True, I don't need to spend four hours with you, or even two seconds with your profile, if what you said in your introductory letter was so insipid as to put me off even oatmeal and soda water for a week. And I stand by the handy listing of facts in many ways: I think seeing 'does not want children ever' in literal black and white makes it seem a bit realer, even (or so I baselessly hope) to the sort of people who seem always to aspire to change their loved ones in significant ways. If one has the sort of goal which ostensibly can only be met by dating, those things about this type of dating are good.

But there is so much more that is unsettling, disturbing, maddening, and wrong. Take stalking, for example. I have been stalked in real life, and I admit that some chucklehead writing me desperate notes wondering if I'm okay because I wrote to him twice before and now haven't returned his letters in over two days! absolutely pales. I am in no danger, for one, which is a big difference, if there ever were one. It is irritation rather than terror, and even I am not cynical or misanthropic -- or passionate -- enough to prefer the latter. But it is extreme irritation, and I am not paying in hopes of receiving even a low-grade variety.

I think at some level perhaps many people unknowingly feel that each email in some way constitutes the equivalent of a discrete conversation in real life. So, if I have written you two, and you have written me nineteen, then we are, or could reasonably be supposed to be, as close as we would be had we met twenty-one times in the physical plane.

Which is patently not so. But email engenders an interpersonal comfort and fluidity that talking to a stranger while waiting for a cab does not. It as well inspires people to reveal things or be more candid (again, even without an in-person meeting) than they would while hitting on chicks in the wine bar. You think we have something we do not. That's scary. Really. Because someone who actually lives on my block and fancies himself to be engaged in a relationship with me of which I am unaware would be considered crazy. Were he to act on it, he would quickly be considered locked up.

Not so online. Not only due to the well-documented and seemingly inherent characteristics of email as a medium, but for other reasons, as well. One is the simple fact, generally ignored, that I and my interlocutor do not, in fact, know each other. You read my words, sure (and that this itself is a charitable assumption I can attest from personal experience), but you give them your own meaning. I am a newfresh electronic tabula rasa, the more rasa the prettier I appear. By even responding with thanks for a compliment I run the risk of 'proving' to you I want to meet you. By my not responding, you become by turns pleading, petulant, accusatory, and apologetic.

And I still don't know you.

But, you want to plead, we've shared so much! In many cases not realizing that it was really you doing the sharing and me the one refusing even to open any more missives from that address. Of course you can't see that, since you're not at my house, as you've never been to my house, since we have never met...

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Another aspect that is a definite downside for me and yet I suspect not so much so for others is having a bunch of random people think they like me. In my case, the only people I want to 'like' me are people whom I know and respect and whom I like in return. However, my profile accurately states that I am not overweight and have no children. This, I think, makes me very, very likable.

However, it also accurately says a bunch of other things which one would quite reasonably imagine would scare off nine-tenths of the male dating population -- but no matter, as I also have a picture up, and I'm not ugly, and a picture of an unugly girl trumps all concerns about religion, politics, personal finance, decor schemes, reading choices, musical tastes, medical problems and food allergies. Translated into action, this means you don't have to read my profile then: you just have to know I'm pretty. "'Yes, you've entered my bloodstream, the room, the whole springtime is filled with you'" at that point. Not to mention the lack of 'baggage' represented by the lack of both children and excess weight. You can't bear not to write.

Of course Rilke also said that Beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, but don't let that concern you. It's not Beauty you are after, anyway; it's 'pretty.' It's 'reasonable,' and 'good enough,' and 'companionship' -- not to mention the candlelight, walks on the beach, and 'good times.' And because I am a pretty blank slate, I am the pretty blank slate of your deepest, most deeply prosaic, dreams.