New technologies have expanded the possibilities for dating—giving us more ways to find romance, arrange dates, and connect with partners. But in the technological marketplace, love has become a commodity to be selected, put on a “wish list,” or discarded—as easy as shopping on e-Bay or Amazon.com.
In the past 15 years, the number of people using Internet dating sites has skyrocketed. Of the 10 million Internet users looking for partners, nearly three-fourths have used online dating. What these sites have done is turn romance into a shopping experience—offering a way to browse for partners without leaving home. Most users report being happy with their experiences, but more than half also think others lie about personal details or marital status.
Cell phones, too, have changed American dating practices, according to a recent piece in the Times. Along with e-mail, instant messaging, and social networking sites like Facebook, the use of texting allows would-be suitors to stay in contact with several partners simultaneously. Before making decisions about how (or with whom) to spend an evening, suitors use text messaging to rearrange and reprioritize their dates. With so many potential options—all available at a moment’s notice—people can switch back and forth between possible dates, comparison shopping for the “right” date. There’s a certain amount of duplicity in this approach, too, as “shoppers” make last-minute dating choices.
But it’s the dating reality shows on television that take duplicity to new heights (or lows). Would-be suitors (usually female) compete for the affection of one individual, often allowing themselves to be assigned sexist nick-names and to be humiliated in various ways. For all the talk of “true love,” the winners are those who display the most dishonesty, selfishness, and disloyalty—all the while pretending to be compassionate. Not only do these programs replace authentic human interaction with a performance, but they also co-opt the very idea of love and turn it into a shallow, voyeuristic, and competitive spectacle.
All of these approaches to dating, romance, and love have the potential to help people connect, but often they do just the opposite. By encouraging people to compartmentalize, they cause fragmentation, separation from a sense of community or belonging. Instead of reality, there is falsehood; instead of depth, shallowness; instead of connection, distance; instead of honesty, duplicity; and instead of love—there is self-serving competition or consumption.
The other day in a coffee shop, I saw a group of 20-somethings sitting at a table, and every single one of them was absorbed with a cell phone—either texting or checking email. I wondered what would happen if suddenly they were forced to sit with each other and just be. Then I noticed an older couple sitting a few tables away—they weren’t talking either but were sharing a bagel and a newspaper. Seeing them look at each other reassured me that the kind of love God intended for us, that Christ modeled for us, is still possible.
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