“Real Life” Reality Dating (TITLE SONG — either bachie or love island theme)
What if someone tried to replicate — in real life — the latter stages of (apparently) either everyone’s second to fourth favourite dating show? Well… it would (potentially) go a little something like this…
PROLOGUE — THE “ANALOGUE” DATING GAME
“It’s so hard to ‘date’ nowadays…” “Tinder is sooo tiring…” “I will be single forever!”
These are all refrains from friends’, acquaintances’ and eavesdropped conversations that seem to lament the difficulties of “digital dating.”
My opinion? I. Don’t. Know. Not because I am unclear in my volition but because I’ve never been on a “digital date.”
The “use cases” (as the tech world refers to a person’s need) for dating apps vary from shyness (“I don’t want to break the ice in person”) and screening (“I don’t want to waste my time”) to the more perturbing “system dating”.
I’ll elaborate briefly on that last one. I work colleague of mine had a “Dating App System.” Once a month, ALWAYS on a Sunday, ALWAYS in the early afternoon (he reasoning was that people are at home hungover on a Sunday afternoon but recovered enough to message) he would swipe right until his freemium accounts expired and then wait. He would then filter his matches based on taste and then proceed to arrange dates. One date a night Monday to Wednesday. Thursday was kept for “regulars” and weekends were kept as a premium. (Saturdays were for the boys if you will…) The first date was never over dinner, never before 8pm and never more than a 15-minute commute from his house. (Another time-saving consideration.) If this all sounds like some kind of cultish behaviour based on the doctrine of “The Game” well you’re probably not wrong (I never actually asked if he had read the book… I didn’t want to know) but above all else, it didn’t seem human.
I deliberately didn’t say “natural” because — what is natural anymore? We barely go a second without using technology to enhance, enliven and (or at least try to) improve our days and Tinder was meant to do that. But I’d posit that it has failed it all three. Dating apps have turned meeting new people into an obligation. One scheduled in our digital planners between meal prep and Strava workouts.
I have been lucky enough that all of my “independent friends” (ones that I have made outside of work, organised sport or other friends) have happened serendipitously. One of the two parties had their interest peaked, for whatever reason, approached the other based on that interest and engaged in conversation.
Now that sounds ALOT like the intention behind Twitter, but the difference is that you're already there. You are already vulnerable. You are already ready for whatever that will happen to happen… or not happen.
That’s not to say, however, that “organic meetings” are easier, less stressful or any less weird than digitally propagated ones — as the following saga will attest…
PART 1: MEETING THE BACHELORETTE (Trivia Night)
Anecdotally, the opening “meet the contestants” episodes of the Bachelor are the most fun. The season is fresh, and the interactions are (most likely deliberately) awkward. It’s this element of schadenfreude that makes the opening episode apparently such an “enjoyable” watch. The base enjoyment is garnered from that fact that you’re not the one experiencing the awkward meeting. Perhaps that’s what people are hoping dating apps will alleviate.
“Analogue” meetings are given no such luxury.
This one was no exception.
After hastily arranging to squeeze myself onto my housemate's table at a medical research fundraiser Trivia Night and then underestimating how long it would take me to finish work that day, I arrived in scurry — underslept, underfed and quickly feeling the familiar hazy buzz of a cheap beer on an empty stomach.
“Dr John” (aka Hottie Jonnie as the table had dubbed him) had just finished a passionate explanation of the night’s cause (and plea for more patronage) when two young women, from the table beside us, sashayed across. The brunette stood politely and said “literally” nothing, just a few steps behind her friend — an effervescent redhead with a bright, confident grin.
Just like in those introductory episodes of the Bachelor(ette) however, the first words utter weren’t what viewers (in this case just me) would have expected.
“I just want to pick on you and I don’t know why…”
“Yeah, you don’t say!” I thought to myself. “I’ve LITERALLY just met you. I don’t know why you would want to either!” My response, however, was a simple: “Oh, really…” A response so engaging that she wandered off to the bar.
Truth be told I was equal parts confused, rattled and… intrigued. And her statement of intention brought upon a memorable flashback.
My only prior long term relationship (in the romantic sense) had similar serendipitous origins. I was interviewing for a place at a University College and my to-be-partner was in the same interview group. She was confident, stylishly dressed and striking but the most intriguing part of our initial encounter was after our interview on the commute back to the city.
As is the case with most interviews, you have to spend the majority of the time talking about yourself. Selling yourself. Pleading for acceptance into whatever it is you want into. I had presumed that most people would have been honest about their past achievements and future ambitions, however, that was not the case for her…
“Did you just lie about all that stuff to get into the college… or did you really do it all?”
I would later find out that the question was intended to have come from a kind place. Moreso in the realms of “Wow! Did you really travel, and perform, and play like you said you did?” as opposed to “Hey stranger! Are you a liar?” which was definitely how I took it at the time.
For a talkative person, I was (almost) rendered speechless and the bus trip continued in stunned silence. So much so that I didn’t actually get her full name or contact details, and only further fortuitous serendipity would see us meet again and have the rest of the rom-com play out.
There’s something refreshing about an encounter that creates intrigue instead of satiation. A suggestion of complexity. Think of a memorable meal at a high-class restaurant. Of course, the food is delicious but there’s more to it than that. Street food is delicious and it leaves wanting more but mostly due to an unbalanced overload of either sugar, fats or both. The aforementioned abrupt, slightly confronting encounter with a pseudo-stranger was much more synonymous with a skillfully prepared course. At its base level, it was enjoyable (an attractive young women decided to interact with me) but it had levels. It was a little challenging and it was definitely something that left your thinking “What was the intention?” and “What’s that other flavour?” Underlying everything else a desire to try the meal again, albeit perhaps not straight away. You left knowing that you enjoyed the experience, you just weren’t sure why. It’s that level of complexity that is avoided when you screen dates on digital platforms. You can only curate to your tastes, and thus never allow yourself the opportunity to expose yourself to challenging, but satisfying, new flavours.
Much like the first time I was rendered speechless by a forthright female, I again forgot to pursue nomenclature or contact details (perhaps it’s a trend…) and after a brief and tipsy reuniting moment with a childhood acquaintance. (who ironically Lady Red left with) we went our separate ways, with separate beaus and baes…
PART 2: GROUP DATE (House Party)
I feel as dating show “mansion parties” exist only to create content for the participants to recite cutaway analysis in reflection. I also feel that real life house parties basically serve the same function.
The average house party probably lasts in its peak form for six hours but probably provides six weeks of conversational (and potentially controversial) content, then by which time all of the party-goers bodies have successfully detoxed and they’re to do it all over again. We’re still living off and recovering from one such party…
The Festival of Virtous Virgos 2K19 was a classic joint birthday party for two mid-to-late 20s ladies that started with home made wholesome snacks and genial chit-chat and gradually escalated into a full on “YAS Kween” house party powered by Prosecco and Pop Bangers.
I am a good friend of both of the birthday girls and as such had been at the party for a while before Lady Red and her friend Polite Brunette arrived, by which time I was suffeicently “house party hydrated” to attempt to introduce people I had only met briefly once to an array of friends, acquitences and strangers at the party. Something that frankly I struggled in general for my closest friends at the best of times.
“Hey Sam, this is Mandy…” I confidently offered, too confidently I would soon find out.
“Actually it’s Maddie…” Originally I consoled myself with the fact that I was a mere constontant off, but I would soon enough find out that Maddie was specifically a Maddie-with-an-i-e and I had botched the introduction completely. In hindsight it would have made for great television and probably a sassy to-camera reflection.
Despite the botched intros, Maddie and Christina continued to grace me with their presence for large stretches of the house party where I was offered such “Big-Brother-esque” wisdom like:
“Tequila doesn’t give you hangovers — well specifically tequila, soda water and lime…”
Let’s side bar for a cheeky “Hact Check”: hastily google “Does Tequila give you hangovers” and you’re greeted if, disappointing, some sparce results BUT this gem by the Elite Daily does seem to proffer up some support for Maddie’s argument.
“Most people claim blanco tequila doesn’t even give you a hangover. You can get hella turnt at night and still make it to your beloved Drake-themed yoga class the next morning.
Then again, this shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise since this tequila is vegan and gluten-free, after all.
If that’s not enough to convince you to swap out your whiskey sour, many believe drinking pure tequila even has some unexpected health benefits, since the sugar from blue agave has been known to lower blood sugar levels.”
Now, NONE of those claims were peer-reviewed or cited but hey! It’s out there! Anyway, safe to say I did not follow the “three-ingredient-rule” but more the “three-bottles-of-prosecco-guidelines” and the rest of the party is in due course, a bit of a blur.
Somehow a group of stayers ventured out into the bright lights of Collingwood's late-night haunts to which I was present enough to have vague memories and an extremely-meta-fourth-wall-breakdown-Bachelor(ette) moment where my housemates posed with this season’s (xxth) Bachelorette and a previous Bachelor participant.
The chance meet-and-greet at 3am would (again in hindsight) be an omen for the “real-life” reality dating moment that would follow.
Again “somehow” Maddie and one fo the virtous Virgos had “recruited” eligable vachelors from the line of one of Collingwood’s all-night discoteques and offered compelling enough counter offers to the $10 cover charge and 2hr+ waiting time to instead trek back to our humble north side abode.
Swift scene change (and a quick ad break for Uber, use this code for a 10% off your next ride…) and we are now all seated group date style in my loungeroom and waiting for someone to undergo the “Osher” role to get this activity underway. Luckily, “our Osher” is with us and presents the instructional envelope which in this case contains extra-cirrculars. Those who are listed take part, those who aren’t watch on and the “kicks-on-group-date” is underway!
Like all reality dating group dates, it seems the point to sneak away alone time — which our “new recruits” begin busily trying to achieve. Osher (just imagine if Osher ever got involved on the actual bachelor!) with one half of the Virtous Virgos and “Jez” with Maddie, but more synomynous with Love Island, space is at a captial and the courting takes place in public and plain view. It is equal parts awkward and endearing. Young hearts, running free, under the influence and in captivity…
Another structural feature that made this version of kick ons more synomymous with “Love Island” than The Bachelor(ette) was the potential for date swapping, which Maddie seized expertly.
Perched on “Jezza’s” knee, she slid her hand across to just ever so slightly brush my left leg. I cautiously peek to my left to survey the situation.
Maddie is definitely on Jezza’s knee. Jezza defintely has his arms wrapped around her. Jezza is definitely trying (and probably in his mind partaking in) conversation with Maddie. But alas, a woman is no person’s property it would seem that she has a request.
“I think you should ask me out on a date…” Maddie definitely-doesn’t whispers.
I glance further left now to asssess Jezza’s reaction. I can’t quite ascdrtain with Jezza heard that request but he wouldn’t have to had been a MAFs-esque body langiuage expert to deduct that interest was been shown elsewhere by his current “date”.
Nervously, I muster all of my linguistic wit and charm to breathe back: “Okaaaay…” and despite this kick on group date taking place in my apartment I move off the couch to the other side of the room to avoid any future awkwardness but not before quickly (and incorrectly) jotting down in my phone: “Maddy Date?”
There was enough time left in this real-life Reality Dating episode to squeeze in one more ad break (this one brought to you by something hungover related) before the final act of the night. The Challenge.
Unsurprisingly at this stage, it’s Maddie who takes on the Osher Role and explains the task at hand.
“It’s sunrise guys! Let’s go for a run.” and promptly she disappears to undergo a swift TV-style costume change.
By this stage, the remaining cast of this episode in my loungroom are having no part in this challenge except for one: Jezza. His sleep deprived, substance riddled brain sees this as an opportunity to prove some “Alphadom” and in all honesty I do to, but if on the rare chance that this tall, stockily built tradie can outrun a skinny trail runner, it will at least be a laugh.
Maddie bounds down the stairs with all the energy that a night full of tequila and no sleep offers and lays out the race rules: unknown distance decided by Maddie, “loser” completely punishment decided by Maddie.
Evidently, the distance was “short” and the loser was Maddie, in the sense that she arrived home last after a weird reverse handicap process between myself and Jezza where we both instantly weighed up the distance that was an appropriate win to show dominance but so egregious to be perceived as arrogance. Tricky right?
Given Maddie’s host-participant conflict of interest the punishment was nulled, while the distant cries of toddlers in prams being taken out for babychinos in our leafy suburb signalled that perhaps our debauched bodies should be seen in daylight yet.
As such, we retreated back to the “mansion”. Maddie and Jezza relegated to the couch as I sought refuge upstairs, mentally preparing my six-week detox regime to prepare for the next house party.
To be continued…
This was a “Real Life” story by @HunterGMeredith
