Online dating: Britain's only hope

No wonder Britons are turning to the internet in search of romance when this country has such a pitiful dating culture

When I was a child, one of the few benefits I could see to becoming an adult was dating. OK, so I'd no longer have my parents living in the same house to feed me and provide me with pink dresses, but at least I would date, went my 10-year-old thinking. Imagine! A life in which I would spot a handsome man, ideally one who looked exactly like Ferris Bueller, then he would spot me. Shy glances would be exchanged. One fine day he would approach me, fists jammed down into his pockets, and, in front of my giggling girlfriends, ask me out. We would then go out for dinner on a starry night and, after accidentally eating the same strand of spaghetti, would have our first kiss. Being a grownup would be brilliant!

And it would have been, had any of the above ever happened. On the plus side, my parents do still feed me with embarrassing regularity and there is a high chance that another pink dress will be forthcoming for Chanukah.

I blame Britain. I have spent the majority of my grownup life in Britain and Britain, as has been often stated, does not have a dating culture. No, it has a get-drunk-go-home-with-someone-then-either-never-speak-to-them-again-or-else-move-in-with-them culture. Nowhere in that description is there a promise of eating the same strand of spaghetti. And this displeases me. But, really, there is only so much a person can do to change a nation's culture, even a person with a closet full of pink dresses.

But it seems that, in fact, I am not alone here. Britain is a nation of dissatisfied daters. Yesterday it was reported that Britain is "leading the way" in online dating. Every month 6.3 million Britons are looking online for a date, with another 2.75 million more commitment-phobic types looking for what is bluntly described as "sex only" on websites such as shagaholic.com, a name so heavy-handed I suspect Martin Amis may have coined it. Of those looking for romance or "erotic encounters" online, 54.8% are men (although, in all honesty, I have had few less erotic experiences in my life than just typing the words "shagaholic.com").

Now, I'm not happy about this either (women, eh? Never satisfied! Tchuh! No wonder men have to take to the internet!). For a start, internet dating still precludes the whole "being asked out in front of my friends" factor, which was as much a part of dating's appeal to me as the date itself. I order my groceries online, I order my clothes online and I generally conduct most of my banking online, which is perhaps why the whole online thing – while I can certainly appreciate its convenience and practicality – has never tickled me as an especially romantic setting. One friend recently told me about a friend of his who is partial to employing the romantic services of a website called Plenty of Fish. Now, love may indeed be a mysterious force but I personally find it hard to imagine it originating from a company with the word "fish" in the name. Maybe it's the American in me but I'm more of a fan of asking people out in person. Heck, I once asked out a hairdresser because he looked rather cute from my perspective of hanging upside down in a sink as he applied conditioner to my ends.

But I am no innocent when it comes to internet dating. Oh no, no, no, I live my subject. I was once on a well-known internet dating site for two whole weeks after my friends took pity on me following an especially painful breakup and enrolled me. I say "took pity on me" but in truth it felt more like "punish me" when I went on my first – and, funnily enough, only – internet date and the chap commenced proceedings by asking me what Simon Hoggart is really like. Ah, the sweet, sweet sound of romance.

The chief executive of the company that conducted this study into Britain's internet dating habits says that it proves "the British are very open-minded", noting especially "Britain's colourful dating landscape", with its variety of "themed sites" from religion-specific to more fetishistic. I say it proves precisely the opposite.

Dating online might be useful in terms of meeting people you would never (and possibly should never) meet, but it's still a form of shyness: there is no risk of public or even really personal humiliation when you ask someone out online whom you've never met; you are able to control how you appear to others with your carefully edited profile, and you are able to specify precisely the kind of person you think you want to be with, listing their qualities as you would order groceries ("young, fresh and organic"). There is nothing wrong with internet dating – it wasn't for me but then neither is quiche and I accept that lots of people love quiche (although they're wrong). But in no way does it help you "spread your horizons" or suggest new boldness on Britons' front. If anything, it speaks of as much crippling bashfulness at taking a personal risk as randomly going home with whoever looks suitably drunk at the end of a party.

Oh, incidentally, the hairdresser? That date was a total disaster. So what do I know?

From The Guardian [UK]

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