Modern Romance
Technology has ruined everything. Netflix and chill? Apps before dinner?
Hello lovelies,
People everywhere seem to be talking about how impossible dating has become. How is anyone still getting married these days? I find myself coaching people into staying in relationships. Unless there is abuse, neglect, or the desire to be alone and single, I suggest they stay together and take separate vacations. We are all more connected with fewer connections. There is no eye contact, no phone calls, and everyone is constantly swiping—looking for the next best thing. How can anyone expect a real connection when they are not even willing to be friends before having sex? Women are more independent than ever, and I know several who have frozen their eggs; they are not waiting on a partner to arrive but waiting for financial stability so that they can be single mothers. I once considered doing that for myself. Now I am reclaiming and redefining the word spinster. I am in fact a confirmed cat lady.
If I didn’t make bad choices dating men, I wouldn’t make any choices at all. I have not always been ready for something serious. It took me a long time after a bad breakup that coincided with some extremely traumatic events. Those things are hard to reconcile, and we all have so much time these days. Later, I would realize that my bad choices were more subconscious and had to do with fixing my past. I would also uncover the truth that there are a lot of avoidant and dissociated folks out there dating. It’s only getting worse with social media and apps. Ghosting, polyamory, no real connection, too busy, too distracted, too much porn, too much hook-up culture, why even try? I watch episodes of Seinfeld and feel nostalgic. I find myself wishing that dating looked like that today. Phone calls, meeting in person, actual dates, breaking up in person. Even if they were dating different people every week, they (usually) dated only one person at a time and broke off a relationship in person before moving to the next. This is no longer the norm. There is no romance or connection. I suggest more people refuse to date unless it gets better. Maybe I got spoiled by films like ‘Pretty in Pink’ and ‘Say Anything’ and the fellas who tried to romance like that when we were all young, before social media and apps. Give me that boombox in the rain playing ‘In Your Eyes’ by Peter Gabriel kind of love or don’t waste my time.
My very first comedic bit I wrote out completely was about my first Tinder date. I never have enough time to do this bit while performing at open mics so I wrote it into a humorous personal essay. I hope that you will enjoy it. Maybe someday I will have the time to tell this story live, but it makes for a pretty funny read. Also, further down is the very first story I shared at the Moth in New Orleans and it was the last dating experience I had. I have no plans to try and date again. I am a confirmed cat lady. A spinster. A hopeless romantic who is saying no more to this cruel and superficial world of dating. Things remain pure and joyous in my imagination and I think I will keep it all there.
Netflix and Chill—A Lesson in Modern Romance
I am forty and I have been single for a very long time. I have learned that dating is not about finding a match, it’s about finding matching baggage and I am pretty sure mine is a rare limited edition. I have friends who tell me not to give up, but the dating world has become miserable. The last civilized dating I remember was in my twenties and I felt too young to marry then. I have this one friend who is single and sleeps on the side of their bed as a way to call in their future partner. I don’t know about that. I sleep in the middle of my bed with all of my cats around me. It’s incredible because they all start purring and then I have a heated vibrating bed.
When I began dating it was the late 90s when men tried. I remember getting mixed tapes, flowers, letters, and poetry. That poetry was often terrible and occasionally plagiarized, but at least they made an effort. Today men send photos of themself at the gym, some ambiguous message about a meet-up, and then often an unsolicited dick pic just when I realize I need to block them. If men want to impress 40-year-old women who are financially stable then they should send proof of how much insurance they have, a high credit score rating, and other financial statements. Most women want safety and security. A guy with a dad bod driving a 10-year-old Honda that is paid off, has assets, and insurance is way sexier than a hot guy driving a Mercedes that will not be paid for before the next trade-in and only has car insurance. Women need to learn this in their teens, but bad boys are fun. Who knew that we would even live beyond tomorrow?
If someone had told me I would be swiping a social media style app for dates in my thirties I would have considered them insane. Here in New Orleans, we are the capital of murders, potholes, and parades. We are the only city where it’s normal for adults to have costume closets and not be involved in theater. Wild is all part of the energy here, but there comes a time when safety is more important. Initially, dating through apps seemed like it could be fun and safe. However, my first Tinder date should’ve been my last. It was several years ago now. I knew him from the neighborhood and so it seemed like it would be a good way to try out this new world of dating. He seemed like a really good guy. He worked in after-school programs with kids and teenagers, advocated against gun violence, and planted organic gardens around town. I was pretty excited to meet up with him and talk more.
I got to the restaurant first and sat by the window where I watched him pull up on a small girls’ bicycle. He was swerving and riding against traffic and up onto the sidewalk. He walked in sweaty and covered in red flags. He was drunk, wearing a wrinkled button-up shirt, dirty cargo pants, a tie-dye bandana around unkempt blonde dreadlocks, and a bushy beard. He said he just left a crawfish boil which explained why he reeked of beer, crawfish, and patchouli. He was wearing a satchel that I am sure he picked up in Peru on a vision quest. Inside were probably a hacky sack, crystals, and psychedelic mushrooms-the whiteboy shaman starter pack. As we began talking, he brought up Cosby and said, “Hey man, everyone was having sex on Quaaludes in the 70s. So, we need to let it go and leave Cosby alone.” That was my cue to leave, but I didn’t. As awful as dinner was I wasn’t ready to go home at 8 pm on a Saturday night, so when he asked what my plans were I said I had none. Then he said, “I was thinking about going home to watch Netflix and Chill.” I didn’t own a television at the time and the thought of relaxing and watching a funny movie sounded like a good time so I replied, “That sounds amazing. I don’t have Netflix at my house.” He seemed really excited to watch a movie and I didn’t think much about it. I suggested he put his bike in my SUV. He told me that he would walk back and get it in the morning.
As we approached his house, I began noticing everything looked familiar. I realized it was because I had seen his neighborhood on the news. There had recently been a woman who had gone missing and was discovered running in the street naked. She had just escaped being held captive in what the media was calling a ¨Secret Sex Dungeon¨. The police had discovered a house that looked like it was from the movie ´Saw.´ There were two-way mirrors, cameras, microphones, speakers, a trap door, and a chair with restraints. I asked ¨Is this where the sex dungeon house was?¨ He answered, ¨Yeah, that was Mario. I don’t know…he was a good dude and I think there must have been a misunderstanding between him and his girlfriend¨.
When we got to his house I began feeling awkward, so I shared my location with a friend as he ran inside. I slowly walked in, examining every step of the way. My date was in the kitchen with his shirt off because, as he put it, he needed to air out. I noticed a CD case and card with white residue and it was pretty clear to me he ran into the house before me so he could do some cocaine. I was sitting there trying to find Blazing Saddles on his television. He offered to make me a drink, but thinking of his love for both Cosby and his neighbor Mario, I declined. He ran into the living room and just jumped on me grabbing me and slobbering on my face like a rabid Wookie. I could smell the crawfish in his beard as I pushed him off of me and yelled, “I'm gonna puke.” I quickly ran into the bathroom. I started washing my face, which was burning from spices that were left in his beard, I even found a corn kernel in my shirt, and I began talking to myself in the mirror, “What the fuck are you doing here? Why did you come over? He thinks Cosby and Mario are good guys. You need an adult. Girl, you are the adult. Get the fuck out of here. Leave.” So, I run out and just said, “Look, I have to go.’ He responded, ” Oh, that sucks. Can you drop me back off at my bike?”
So, because I was too embarrassed to say no, there we were, in my car, which reeked of dirty hippie at a crawfish boil. It was completely silent except for the potholes we kept hitting. When we finally got back to his bike, he hopped off and headed to another bar. He looked like a clown with his knees out on that bike that was too small for him. I immediately called my friend and as soon as I said,” Netflix and chill” She stopped me and said, “Amy that means sex.” Okay, this was about seven years ago. I was thirty-two, and no one told me that Netflix and Chill meant sex, and I had questions. Like, does chill always mean sex now? Can you Hulu and Chill, DVD and chill? I thought dating in my thirties would have been different. I expected everyone to be more direct. Had he asked me, “Hey do you want to have sex?” I would have said, “No I don’t want to have sex, I don’t even want to kiss you. You smell bad and I only came over to watch a classic film by Mel Brooks. Can we do that?” Hopefully, he would have said, “okay”.
I wish I could say that any of my other experiences with apps were better. I did end up making some lifelong platonic friends there. That is what I prefer. Too many times I treated red flags as green lights so for me, dating is over. I have decided that I prefer being manipulated by cats instead of men. At least they make my bed vibrate while I fall asleep. It’s not a bad thing.
}The Moth New Orleans—Chemistry
When I shared this story at the Moth in New Orleans it uncovered my deep desire to perform comedy. I wish I had come to this conclusion ten years earlier. Comedy has been medicine to me my entire life. Dating, has always taken so much from me. I really wish I could be that person who meets someone and just clicks. You know, that best friend, but I haven’t been that lucky. There have been a few that could’ve been right, but the timing wasn’t. Timing is really everything…in life, music, and comedy. I would also like to clarify that I have a very strict rule against dating clients. The fella in this story came in like a friend and only one session (boundaries are always clear in sessions) and I would never do this again. Lesson learned. I have rules for a reason. This was close to five years ago and I haven’t dated since. I may have tried again had it not been for the pandemic, my dad’s passing, the world turning upside down. It’s all too much. I have zero faith in apps so I will keep it all in my imagination, its so much easier that way. If you liked this story please like, share, and comment on this page or the story. Thank you.
I will leave you guys with a few links.
A Decade of Fruitless Searching The Toll of Dating App Burnout.. This article written by Catherine Pearson forThe NY Times is so real. I stayed on apps longer than I should have because I always met people who told me they met their husband or wife on one. It gives hopeless romantics hope where there shouldn’t be. Not worth the time, the energy, or the money. There is a recommendation of matching only five to nine people at a time, but that is also too many. My solution is cats. Therapy, art, and cats…not apps.
Why Aren’t More People Marrying? Ask Women What Dating is Like. This is an opinion essay that a friend sent me the other day as she was preparing to go support her friend who is going to freeze her eggs. It inspired me to share this a few weeks earlier than I intended to. It is the reason this is going out in the evening instead of the morning.
It is good to know I am not alone in all of this, but should we all be all alone? I will write a little more about alone vs. lonely next week. For now, let us all be grateful for what we have. Let’s make time for friends and if we need friends letˋs make them. It may be a weird and strange and violent world, but I do know that it is always possible to find a friend, even when it may be impossible to find a partner.
I am really enjoying this platform and I still have more to learn and need to refine my writing, but thank you for taking the time and joining me here. I hope you enjoyed and laughed some. It is so ridiculous that it can only be funny.
Sending my best until next week. Below is another sneak peek of Bill Bailey Won’t You Please Come Home? Which will be out in January and if you join my yearly subscription to my newsletter-which has no paywalls-you will receive a signed hardcover copy of the first in this series of books signed by me and the illustrator, Ava Gisleson.
Love,
Amy Nicole Stewart
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Here is our main character…Bill Bailey. Your support of this newsletter at the yearly level will get you a signed copy from the first printing. Thank you for supporting. Also, please like and share. It helps.
LOVE. Til we meet again. ANStewart