Cybersex and the City

A racing heartbeat, throbbing loins, and a thoroughly flushed face forced onto the strong shoulder of your partner as their lips massage the contoured nook on the side of your neck. Blood rushes through your body, your eyes roll to the back of your head uncontrollably, and a pulsating sense of pleasure overcomes your body from head to toe, leaving you satisfied like a dog having finally snatched an out-of-reach bag of treats.


These are all experiences you don't get with cybersex.

When the inventors of Skype and Google Chat were concocting the blueprints of their services, I can only wonder whether they realized the trends they were about to start. No doubt, their envisioned experiences by the average person involved army wives interacting with their hubbies while on deployment, or mothers and fathers greeting their child that had just left the nest to begin anew in college. But did the vision of lusty touching and seductive stares cross their minds when they tested their video chat programs?

The world may never know.

It goes without saying that cybersex is akin to being the new phone sex: everyone does it, but no one wants to talk about it. When you're chatting with your friends about "getting laid" last night, you're more than likely alluding to physically "getting it in" after a wild night out or a late-night rendezvous with a Grindr whore guy. But recall the last time you had an in-depth conversation over martinis about having an orgasmic sexual encounter via Web cam? If you can muster up an actual recollection, you're far more progressive (or hopeless) than you probably realize.

My intentions as a sexual being are never to achieve sexual gratification through an indirect manner, but then again, my sights are so rarely set on just sex, that the cyber phenomenon only recently occurred to me. My recent travels took me to a Web chat with a student from the University of Pennsylvania (yes, one of those) who, like anyone else scouring the Web at 2 a.m., was looking for a little gratification of his own.

As I have the rotten habit of doing, I indulged in his bad flirting and creepiness for the sake of curing my boredom and embarking on my version of the "research" process. But curiously, his intentions for the evening went right to the Web cam - no mention of "coming over to watch a movie," no implication that he wanted to hop in bed with me, just a Skype invite from some loser with what could be the least sexy screen name on Earth. In the end, the "cyber" experience wasn't necessarily damaging, but it did leave a bit of a sour taste in my mouth. And my general rule, is that if I'm going to leave an encounter with a sour taste in my mouth, it's going to be a literal one - not a metaphorical one.

After experiencing a little more of the online dating scene than I care to admit, and reading through this particular person's messages, I've come to realize that the Web has completely redefined sex and - more alarmingly - the flirting cliche. Responses to simple, innocent introductory questions predictably draw forth the ever-popular, "Oh, I'm just laying in bed" answer, which in a modern day context translates to, "Oh, I'm just hard, horny and looking to have sex." The "Is that a gun in your pocket?" line would, sadly, come as a breath of fresh air put next to the brilliant lines some of the men in Philadelphia have come up with. Somehow, the world has become too half-hearted and sex-oriented to even attempt placing wit and humor into hook-up scenarios. And now, even more devastatingly and mind-bogglingly, we've managed to take the physical contact out of sex.

Yeah, try imagining that one.

It is my opinion that the journey is almost always more sense-heightening and satisfying than the destination, and for that reason, analyzing cybersex only leaves me confounded. By no means is it unhealthy by nature, and it can be enjoyable if enacted with the right person under the right pretense, but I can't help but wonder if it has left the sexual world lagging like dial-up in the 90s. After all, this act of glorified masturbation puts forth no sense of incentive: why work hard for something you can do yourself, anyway?

As fun as cybersex may (sometimes) be, I don't appreciate its social inept interactions spilling into real life scenarios. Allowing cyber hook-ups as a temporary substitute for sex is one thing, but using such a sloppy method of "sex" as a new sexual go-to? If approaching someone in a public setting for sex donning PJs, messy hair and a piss-poor attitude doesn't make you attractive, why would it make you studly during a video chat?

Please, folks, take my advice and try to aim for the "birds and the bees" and not the "nerd and the cyber sleaze."

Confessions of a Grind-a-holic

You're laying in bed, bored to tears and ready to press "play" on your iTunes copy of "All By Myself," when you hear a distinctive "bloop" emote from your phone and/or tablet. Suddenly, things are turning around. The bloops keep on coming, your screen lights up with red circles in the corner of multiple scandalous (and sometimes comical) profile pictures, and you're left not only feeling great about yourself, but enamored and somewhat addicted to the alluring game of flirtation.

Yes, folks, we're talking about Grindr.

It hasn't taken long for dating dynamics to evolve with technology; the Western world has gone from participating in the relationship/dating-oriented online realms of OkCupid and Match.com, to becoming even more self-indulgent with casual mobile apps like Grindr and Blendr, which bypass the reading of profiles (which, admittedly, most people don't read anyway) and get right to the point. Within three back-and-forth messages with a person, it has typically already been decided what will happen. You will a) have sex, b) go on a date, or c) continue to flirt, but never actually engage in any in-person activities. The first is the most likely, the second is exceptional but possible and the last is probably the most entertaining aspect of the application(s).

Admittedly, I've quickly become a bit of a Grind-a-holic myself. It isn't very often that I actually meet people I interact with, but I continue to be fascinated and drawn-in by the unknown factors presented by a person whose identity is a complete mystery beyond their "stats" and profile picture. More unpopular, my curiosity is strangely piqued by those creepy, picture-less folk who typically are revealed as 50-year-old men who opt to skip the process of uploading a picture and instead fish for younger men in hopes that they will, essentially, be their self-esteem building tools. Note that I find these people worth mentioning because of the strange number of picture-less people I find that are closeted or discreet rather than sugar daddies - they're the "catch of the day" when they actually turn out to be good-looking, interesting individuals who happen to be on the down-low. Aloof, nonetheless... but intriguing.

Allow me to share one risk-taking experience I found myself involved in on a slow-moving Independence Day eve last summer, an experience that may make you rethink getting together with that curious person who continues to channel messages into your phone:

***

I sat at my desk on an unseasonably cool summer night, browsing through YouTube videos in an attempt to distract myself from a seemingly endless feeling of boredom. Hearing the hub-bub outside of my window didn't help, and I was left with an urge to do something - anything. "Anything" translated to creating a Grindr account, which I hesitantly did with no real intention of pursuing a get-together, but with every intention of using the app to keep my mind entertained.

An hour later, however, I found myself engrossed in conversation with an archetypical South Philly Italian who could be likened to - judging by the profile picture - the bulky "guido" appearance of Ronnie from Jersey Shore. Not exactly my type, but enough to keep my attention. By this time, he was already interested in meeting, which immediately struck me as sudden and, to a degree, sketchy. However, his nonchalance about seeing me that night mitigated much of my uneasiness, causing me to give in to his pleas and march my curious self south of Snyder.

Passing by a sea of Italian-style barbeques and parties, I safely knew I was no longer in the Philly territory I was familiar with. If it was a preview of what was to come, I was unsure of whether my adventure was actually one worth continuing. But pressing on, I finally found his home, stepping onto his dimly lit porch and reaching to press the door bell. Before my forefinger could mark the button, he opened the door, beckoning me inside.

Unfortunately, with the lighting minimal and my not-so-sensible self already a little buzzed, I didn't catch a glimpse of what he looked like until I crossed the threshold. Before me was a man whose spiked hair had been replaced with a dyed-black, receding hairline; a man whose pearly-white smile had turned into a set of chompers that might be better suited for an 80-year-old smoker; an elder whose smooth face had transformed into a wrinkly, contoured surface that made him look less like a lover and more like a father.

But he had beer, and I had time.

I sat down on the couch across from where he looked to have been sitting before I'd arrived, surveying my surroundings, which consisted of a dusty living room full of aged furniture, a kitchen that was loaded with empty beer bottles and boxes and a putrid smell of dogs that I still can't exorcise from my sensual memory.

But still, he had beer, and I had time.

He quickly grabbed me a drink and sat down, embarking on a Q&A session that promptly turned into the beginning of his memoirs. He expressed his life regrets and continued hopes within less than an hour of conversation, delving into the details of his rebellious teenage years (he claimed to have fathered two children and have lived on his own by age 16), and spending a careful amount of time on exploring the troubles of his many failed relationships. One such relationship, which he elaborated on with a special focus on his general willingness to "give," was with a former Temple student whom he gave plentiful amounts of money to and "supported through school." Naturally, the guy dumped him the second after he graduated. All the while I sat, a Temple student myself, understanding his intentions but - surprising even myself - not particularly caring. Why?

He had beer, and I had time.

Or at least I didn't care until the fifth beer came around and his lips took aim at mine. As I turned my cheek and his kiss landed to the left of my nose, he immediately inquired why I was so "guarded." Humored, slightly embarrassed, and becoming increasingly uncomfortable, I shrugged it off and excused myself to the restroom. I was becoming irritated with his tactics of deception and, finally, had decided to further excuse myself from his restroom back to my boring old bedroom.

I'd had enough beer, and had wasted enough of my time.

I bolted down the stairs, rushed to grab my things, and wished him a good night while narrowly avoiding another awkward sexual advance. Sobering up and beginning to feel anger swirl in my stomach like butterflies-turned-dragonflies, I went home and wasted no time deleting my account, continuing into a deep sleep to eliminate my stewing frustration.

I still receive messages from him every holiday.

***

This isn't to say that Grindr is a useless tool; the app serves its purpose for those seeking no-strings-attached encounters that are entirely and blissfully superficial. But for the innocent, naive user who believes in their ability to score a romantic date from the app, kindly turn off your phone when you find your trigger-happy finger an inch away from the "download" button.

I promise you, the free beer isn't worth it.

Five Do's and Don'ts for the Online Dater

New online dating sites are popping up all the time, which is either a sign that the dating form is becoming more and more regular, or that people just love "punny" tongue-in-cheek .com venue titles like "PlentyOfFish." I write this blog from the perspective of the former, but secretly hoping for the latter. (Bring on "plentyofsausage.com," por favor?)

The Do's:

1. Create a profile. The simple and obvious note regarding online dating, don't simply be the bystander mocking the concept when you yourself haven't had a date in over a year. Your pride doesn't mean a whole lot when you're sleeping alone, does it?

2. Use a recent picture in your profile. You have some flexibility with this one; my personal rule is to not post anything more than a year old. However, if you're approaching the big 5-0, be aware that your date might step into the restaurant a bit surprised if you posted a picture of your 25-year-old self with rock hard abs, and you're sporting a new gray 'do and a beer gut.

3. Find the right forum for you. Not all dating networks are the same; if you're a lesbian you certainly aren't going to want to sign up for Grindr, and if you're a gay man, you're probably going to want to steer clear of the homophobic eHarmony that seems to get more TV advertisement than Viagra circa 2000. Like anything else you'd deem important in your life, do your research.

4. Be available, but don't be too available.
You want people to know that you're on the market, but refrain from using the dreaded "R word." Even if you are looking for a relationship, don't specifically advertise that you're looking for one. It leaves the door open for relationship-addicted freak-a-zoids to knock on your profile's door and throw out a marriage proposal. But do be clear and specific about what you want so as to create a niche audience for yourself.

5. Don't be afraid to embellish. Leave your ethics out of your profile. Even if your life is boring, you should never advertise yourself that way. Take the mundane and make it interesting if you have nothing better to include in your profile. So you like marshmallows? Throw in some snarky, made-up "Brokeback Mountain" joke about a time you and your pals sat around the campfire making smores. You work at Wal-Mart? Tell them you work at Whole Foods - especially if you're shooting for the hipster crowd.

The Don'ts:

1. OkStupid. OK, so OkCupid actually goes on the list of better sites you could be using (especially as a free site), but the forum has its flaws in both design and demographics. In general, the site falls in a particularly unique category of sites where you are able to see who is viewing your profile, and when they're viewing. This could be a great thing if everyone that views your profile is sending you a message, but be prepared to ready those shields if you can't take the self-esteem hit. These sites are meant for the confident and straightforward, not the weak of heart or timid types. I won't advise you to not use this site, as I've had my own set of personal success stories with it, but I send you into the battlefield waving a warning flag.

2. "Hey, hot stuff." You find that sexy gal's profile, your claymore goes skyward bound, and your immediate instinct is to let them know. When you reach this point, run to the nearest freezer, grab an ice tray, and topple it downward; no one wants to talk to a creep, even if you're attractive. Success with online dating comes not just from having a perfected profile, but from knowing how to greet new people. Find something witty to say pertaining to their profile without making it look like you've scanned everything they've written three times over.

3. Don't reveal too much, too soon. One of the biggest problems with online dating is that your back-and-forth messages don't leave much room for a great introductory conversation on a first date. Try to keep your conversation a length where you can determine your level of interest, and then continue the conversation in person if you so choose.

4. Choose a safe meeting place. Thankfully, the issue of safety with online dating is slowly going downhill, but it is still an issue. I made the mistake of meeting a 50-year-old creep posing as a 25-year-old hunk at his home; believe me when I say you never want to end up in such an awkward position.

5. Don't linger on a profile. In between your date, it can be easy to stare at your computer screen and reread their profile in anticipation of an exciting date. It's understandable, but building expectations for a date is never a good thing. Dating - online or off - is not meant to be an end-all, be-all of your life, just a side story on an ongoing adventure. Don't take it so seriously.

Have some online dating do's or don'ts of your own? Send me an email at brandon.baker@temple.edu, or leave a comment below.

Meeting 'Mr. Right' in the 'New Age of Dating'

When it comes to finding love, we like to imagine that perfect meeting spot. You catch someone coyly smiling at you from another table at the coffee shop, or that perfect gentleman helping you stand up from your broken fall on the street corner. It's romantic, it's dreamy, it's corny.

The imagining of meeting that special someone and actually experiencing it for yourself are in fact two very different ideas. If we were to delve into the details of how modern people meet their loved ones, you'd be more likely to hear a story starting with the word "OkCupid" than you would be to hear anything about some handsome silhouette sweeping you off your feet.

I call it the "New Age of Dating." Just as the standards changed when the automobile and movie theater came into play, so it has changed with the introduction and endurance of the Internet. Like it or not, it dictates who, where, and why we date.

To broaden the matter, the invention of the cell phone and the "love to hate" text message have stretched out this concept even further. Now, when you meet that person that catches your eye online, you're not just expected to sit through a charming instant messaging conversation at your computer, you're expected to send that person a glowing text message on the go ... and God forbid you send it a minute late.

I recently got together with one of my favorite "Jersey boys" (who, at his core, is anything but Jersey-typical) for coffee and catching up, and he informed me that, upon some deep reflection, he had decided to drop his cell phone plan. To make things more interesting, he decided to do so immediately after spending a large sum of money on a brand new smartphone.

Go figure, right?

As someone who is practically in a relationship with his phone, I didn't know what to make of it. His primary argument was that - on top of being an extra expense - his cell phone stifled personal interactions. He was essentially saying that cell phones don't make socializing easier, they in fact do just the opposite.

And as I thought about it more, I had to question it myself. When it comes to interacting with others, particularly dating, does new age technology really change the dynamics of dating for the better?

As time has gone on, the text message in particular has become a subject of interest. "OMG, he didn't text me back!" is a pretty common, eye-rolling phrase you'll hear passing by someone on the street. When it comes right down to it, texting has become more political than it has personal.

And online profiles? Somehow it has become considered "creepy" to view someone's profile, or to write too much about yourself in an "About Me" description. Color me ignorant, but the whole point of a dating site is to have access to this sort of thing, correct?

As a society, we've become so consumed in the norms of the digital age, that we don't actually stop and think about whether any of it is benefitting us at all. We seek not a real connection from our text messages, but an unhealthy, sometimes dangerous self-validation that a relationship should not be dependent upon. That isn't to say I'm an advocate of ditching the cell phone and laptop, but I would advise putting the phone down and ignoring your match.com or Grindr accounts for a few weeks, and seeing how you handle it.

One of the greatest lessons I've learned thus far in the dating world, is that the bigger the challenge is, the bigger the pay-off will be. In a society where passive aggressiveness has become commonplace, you'd be amazed what wonders being straightforward can do for you. So the next time you find yourself typing that extra "lol" or "smiley face" in your text message to earn "cool points," try hunting that love interest down in person and letting them see that beautiful smile for themselves. It's more telling than any kind of short-form syntax, and just might get you that one, genuine response you've always hoped for.