Online dating. The sizzle and fizzle.

Kevin Kokoska, a friend of “trysweettalk” offered to do a guest post for this week’s dating blog. I love what he’s written. It’s a refreshingly insightful and honest male perspective about maturity, self-reflection, accountability and class.  Women and men can learn from it. Thanks  Kevin for contributing your work, as well as your wonderful point of view.

A first date, a hug, a second date, an awkwardness, a week of mutually uninspired text messages, silence. This is where it usually ends, right? There is no real closure, but no one is really at fault. You are both nice people, just not nice for each other. And in three months when you jog past each other on the Sea Wall you’ll smile or maybe even stop to exchange pleasantries and maybe you’ll even pretend to care when they tell you they’re going back to school but, most likely, the two of you will (literally and figuratively) run away from one another remembering in full why exactly it was that your connection quickly fizzled away.

But it doesn’t always end that way… I recently received a Facebook friend request from a young woman whose profile picture beamed back at me with déjà vu blue eyes. The eyes were framed above all-too-familiar cheekbones and below an all-too-identical surname. I felt like Ed Helms’ character riding in the back of a cop car next to a mystery baby in the first Hangover movie: “WTF IS GOING ON?!”

I was confused to say the least, but to say I was not also intrigued would be a lie. I racked my brain, begging for memories on those first (and only) two, largely unmemorable, dates. Quickly retrieved were the formalities: where she works, what she does for fun, how long she’s lived in the city. Followed closely by a Coles Notes summary of my early relationship errors: choosing to take her to a melodrama on sex addiction, talking about myself too much, talking about the melodrama on sex addiction too much, not enough post-date text message banter.

Then came a deeply introspective pause; me in a dark room, sitting at my desk in front of a humming laptop, watching the friendly smile of my new Facebook “friend” morph into an evil grin. And finally, the recognition that, after two dates, I obtained no family history (not even a head count) and, therefore, no usable intelligence on this sister stranger. Having already accepted the friend request, the feeling was one of vulnerability. Am I supposed to know something? Am I supposed to do something?

What’s worse was a sour realization that, without the request acting as catalyst, may have stayed buried for all eternity: I, in fact, had been less-than-sufficient company. The post-date fizzle was my fault? The post-date fizzle was my fault! As guys, we often have a hard time coming to grips with such information—if, that is, we are even capable of entertaining the possibility of us being bad company to begin with. It’s not you, it’s m—. Wait, that can’t be right. It’s definitely not ME. It must be you.

And if it was my fault, what does this say about the suspicious friend request? After days without inbox message or notification, I decided that, as the one being stalked silently, I was in a position to speak freely. So I did. In the form of a four word, caps lock message: IS THIS AN AMBUSH?

It was not an ambush. It was not even close. And each of my preconceived notions surrounding the intentions of the unexpected invitation was quickly being dismantled. The hierarchy of potential explanation was ordered as such (worst to best):

1) Dissatisfied date vents to evil twin and this is most certainly an ambush.

2) Bored younger sister peruses older sis’ Facebook friends, adding man meat without completing a background check with sibling. Dissatisfied date will read about our Internet friendship on her news feed and will not be pleased.

3) These two women are not at all related and I simply have Paranoid Personality Disorder.

Lost on me at the time was a fourth and refreshingly mature option:

4) Dissatisfied date is not that dissatisfied at all and displays both sensibility and class by referring her sister to a person whom she feels is better suited for.

The reply to my AMBUSH interrogation informed me that this fourth option was the most factual. My original date had encouraged her sister to leave her comfort zone and add a perfect stranger on the strength of what Sister #1 felt were numerous similarities in taste and personality between myself and Sister #2.

I started developing a memory mnemonic to keep me from mixing up their first names. I was so impressed by this sign of selflessness between siblings that, at first, it sort of made me want to re-sizzle the fizzle with Sister #1. That is, until I met her not-so-evil-after-all younger sibling and felt the welcome flame of a dead accurate semi-blind date within the first few strides of the Sea Wall on a mild March evening.

As we said our goodbyes and I wandered back into the quiet weeknight streets toward home, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of shock that this social experiment had actually appeared to work. Most responsible for this feeling was the fact that, for single twenty-somethings such as myself, this is never how the dating game goes. Never. Finding an appropriate partner is hard work. And it’s time consuming. Those willing to work hard usually do not have enough free time, and those with enough free time are usually unwilling to work hard. And when two people do go out on a date, it is often apparent to both parties whether or not this thing will fizzle or sizzle. If it sizzles, great! Turn up the heat. But the fizzle is a little more complicated. Sometimes even a mutual feeling of fizzle can end it disaster, if not handled correctly. It becomes less about the fact that things aren’t going to work out and more about who called it off first. WHAT? He is ending it with ME?! Please, like I’d ever be with him!

It is amazing how easily we have our feelings hurt by someone we are not interested in and perhaps will never see again. We are fragile creatures. And my story is the exception to the rule. Until now. Detached from the often un-detachable highs of a spring courtship, (I think) what I’m feeling is a renewed sense of faith in young adult dating behavior. Accordingly, I have since paid forward a Facebook referral of my own. This involved connecting two single (for now) friends of mine whose respective Facebook wall content I have found to be virtually identical.

As is the case with myself and my now non-virtual acquaintance, similarities do not guarantee relationship success—or even friendship, or even a tolerance of that person within a court-ordered 100 meters of you. However, understanding the obstacles in finding young love and having the maturity to acknowledge when a suitor would perhaps be more suitable for someone else in your inner circle are, in my opinion, steps in the right direction.

As I mentioned to the subjects of my latest attempt at manufacturing some Facebook sizzle, “Either you two will do great things together, or you will start the apocalypse.” But I feel it is my duty to find out.