Member-only story
Love in the time of coronavirus
Phone sex, coffee Skypes and phantom heartbreaks
Dating. A masochistic social ritual we endure because we hope for a pair bond. Or a one-night stand. Or something in between. Self-inflicted emotional angst we go through because we crave connection.
We modern people in our modern cities, we’re still just primates after all. We need to touch and be touched. We want to mate.
Once upon a time we had the dating ritual. Man likes woman. Woman smiles at man. Encouraged, he asks her out. She says yes. He picks her up. He buys her a meal or a drink or a ticket to the movies. After, she decides to kiss him. Or not. Or maybe she invites him inside….
Millennials find these rituals antiquated, or so I’ve heard. They hook up. Or hang out. Or meet up.
Dating apps and feminism have changed the rituals. Now women can ask men out, and they’ll pay for the meal, or split the check, or buy popcorn if he gets the movie tickets.
He no longer picks her up. If they met on an app, she feels safer to meet in a public place. It’s less romantic but practical.
Is dating a dying art?
Though the process has changed, the basics remain. People meet. They enjoy something fun. A kiss might occur, saliva exchanged…
