Of Wine & Men

Despite the plethora of dating websites and social networking apps, the number of people in the U.S. who are, or identify as, single might surprise you. A recent survey published in the Washington Post said that more adults are single now than not (http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/govbeat/wp/2014/09/15/for-the-first-time-there-are-more-single-american-adults-than-married-ones-and-heres-where-they-live/). eHarmony says it is responsible for the "most marriages" of any online dating site. I wonder how that tide may turn now that more than half of U.S. states allow same-sex marriage, and, the last I checked, eHarmony doesn't have a same-sex category. And I'm still waiting for Gay Divorce Court! Talk about a ratings runner! No doubt LOGO has already acquired the rights to that one!

But that's getting ahead of things.

It begs the question: With our population increasing at such an exponential rate that scientists are concerned we won't last another hundred years before we completely desecrate our planet and annihilate our species, why are so many of us still single? Is it because there are so many people out there that we've become intolerant and hyper-critical? The most insignificant imperfections in a potential mate become deal-breakers because we think the next date will be The One? Or is it because we still base the people we choose to meet and go out with on their profile picture(s) above what their profile says about them? Are we actually subconsciously sabotaging our own chances at a long-term relationship because we are, deep down, afraid of commitment?

I am as guilty as the next man for wanting to find my Adonis. When scrolling through online dating applicants, I've been known to finger swipe + or - based on photo alone, hoping the muscle-bound Greek god who apparently lives just five blocks away from me will see that I liked him and like me back and we can have the perfect first date, get married and ... yeah, I know.

This is why first dates should always be over coffee and never over alcohol. Because we all know that one glass of wine leads to another, which leads to another, which leads to a stop at CVS for a box of condoms and a bottle of personal lubricant on the way to his place.

Danny was a prime example of this. And just a little bit psycho. I should've seen the red flag when he told me he was a recovering addict. I'm no stranger to dating addicts. Wade, Ryan, Patrick, now Danny (though as I tell you more you'll see why he can't really be construed as dating as much as an "experience"), which is either a sad commentary on the number of addicts in the gay community or on the men I choose.

Danny is 48 and lives in Milwaukee. He lived in Minneapolis for many as an adult, but recently relocated back to Milwaukee. He'd driven up to meet me an;d spend the remainder of the weekend visiting friends. He was good in bed. I'll eliminate the positive right away. This I found out after a succession of Rieslings and a night in his hotel room downtown. We actually hit it off and I considered embarking on a long-distance relationship with him. The express train from here to there is pretty affordable. And when we said good-bye with a kiss, I told I'd plan on being down to see him soon.

Then things turned creepy. Sixteen texts and five voice mails Monday before 5pm. He expected me to stay home every evening so we could text, Skype or talk on the phone. If I was asked to go out with friends, I was expected to say, 'Sorry. I have to be a loser and stay home in case Danny has time to talk.' The few shows that I watch religiously in prime time I had to DVR so I could focus entirely on him. And when I told him I wasn't willing to do those things, he responded by saying he knew when he was "being marginalized." And if that weren't enough, three days later I get a scented card in the mail from him (remember, we went to his hotel room--he didn't know where I lived, and I'm not listed). I told him he was making me uncomfortable and that he needed to leave me alone. But the phone calls and texts didn't stop. Until I blocked his number. Then then emails started (another medium I didn't share with him) and I wound up having to resort to creating a filter and send him directly to my Spam box.

Desperation should never be a driver when it comes to our hearts. Support, compatibility, and yes, physical attraction, but that's not, and should not be, first and foremost. I'd rather be single than Single White Female. Because true companionship, the kind you can grow old with, takes time.

If you even believe that exists. For some it may not.

Life is, surprisingly, short, and gets shorter each day. The older we get, the scarier it becomes to invest in another person. If we start a relationship at 40, and the relationship ends in five years, we have to figure on being at least 47 or 48 before we find someone else. And then the question becomes, is it even worth the effort to break in someone new? Or are our close friends enough for the emotional support we need and online dating is only effective for an occasional sexual fix? Looking at the high rates of infidelity and divorce in our society today I have to wonder if monogamy is really in our nature, or if we should consider redefining ourselves.

I leave you with this radical thought: Monogamy is being with one person at a time ...

We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties

Technology absolutely make some things easier! There's no argument in that. The invention of the remote control, for example--such a simple device--has changed, and is still changing our lives. I remember way back in the late 1970's, when my family was still a one-television-family, and we had an old behemoth console TV (you know the ones with the carved wood and the magnetic doors to close off the front when people gathered in the living room to socialize withOUT electronics), my dad used to call my mom in from the kitchen, where she was invariably busy with the never-ending duties of being a farm wife and the mother of three boys, to change the channel for him. Believe me, no one was happier than my mother when we finally got a TV with a remote! One could argue that my dad actually had a remote control for our TV, called my mom, but that's a completely separate topic for another blog.

35 years later we are living in a world that was only science-fiction fantasy 50 years ago. Computer controlled cars, effortless vacuuming, 3-dimensional television, and it seems like everything is connected to everything else and every device is expected to do everything. My first Atari game console in 1978 was just that: a game console. A wired game console. I doubt kids today could even fathom being tied to the TV with cables and cords to play games, or having to stay in your bedroom with your door closed to listen to music so you didn't bug your mom.

Earlier this year I bought an Xbox One, touted as the world's first all-in-one entertainment box. And it pretty much does do everything I like to do: Netflix, exercising, YouTube, web browsing, Amazon Prime streaming ... oh, and it plays Xbox games, too. It's amazing how far we've come in the last three decades with infra-red technology and wireless Internet. And it seems as though each new electronic generation becomes more and more all-encompasing.

But there's a downside to giving that much power to a single device. I call it "The Edgar Factor" (if you've seen the 1984 movie "Electric Dreams," you know what I mean). One drop of cold champagne on an overheated circuit and you can kiss your love life good-bye!

This truism manifasted itself last night when I discovered my Xbox locked! Meaning I can't sign into my Microsoft account, which, if you're not familiar with the way the console works, you need to do in order to use Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu, YouTube, even to access games in progress saved under your gamertag.

So before I panic, I log into my account online (it's accessible that way; online, on my phone, via SmartGlass; just not on my Xbox) and enter live chat support. 90 minutes later, after giving a very detailed account of what was happening and doing everything the tech instructs me to do, the account is still locked. And I'm told, "I will turn this over to our Consumer Advocacy Team. This could take up to 3 days but please check your email within 24 hours." So while they say they're working my issue, I'm staring at a $500 piece of plastic, inside of which, just beyond my reach, are all my entertainment accounts.

Please Stand By ...