dating

. . . As a normative way of socializing for gay men, online cruising is a disaster. We need to recognize its effects — including its tendency to isolate us, encourage objectification, and diminish our sense of life’s nonsexual possibilities — as disasters. We need to recognize that too many of us, too much of the time, are cruising online because it is easier and feels safer than thinking about the love we are missing and the power we do not have. Too many of us, too much of the time, are cruising online because it’s easier and feels safer than mustering the courage, patience, discipline, and imagination required to help ourselves and each other become the men that, in our strongest moments, we want to be.

Gary Cohan, a physician who treats half of A-list gay Hollywood, says we have to start thinking in a deliberate way about what normal social interaction consists of. “For a long time,” Cohan says, “it has been considered normal to be on the Net. We need to start thinking, That’s not normal.”

We need to put our heads together and try to figure out what we want normative social life to look like. Whatever the answer turns out to be, it will involve creating social structures that serve and gratify our desire to have sex with each other and also promote and support the possibility of developing and sustaining intimate relationships. Gay men came close to the goal of building such a society when they were hit with the plague of AIDS. That generation learned the rewards of sacrifice and of setting limits on the place of sex in our culture. But to those of us who were children or teenagers during the epidemic, AIDS made coming out so scary that we preferred to avoid getting too involved in our gay forefathers’ world.

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It takes a woman about a thousand words and a condom to get laid on Craigslist. But for a woman to be laid properly — by a passionate lover who knows what he’s doing — well, that’s a whole different ball game.

We are both middle-aged women who have spent the past 11 months sleeping around Craigslist. At an age when most women were sending their firstborns off to college, we found ourselves — through chance and circumstance — single, tumescent and ripe for adventures. Those adventures have spanned 10 counties and four states and involved roughly 45,000 e-mailed words, 27 phone calls, 36 face-to-face initial dates and 13 actual lovers — and re-aggravated our carpal tunnel syndrome from all the typing.

. . .The two of us met when Anna answered an ad that Lily’s then-boyfriend, Scott, posted on Craigslist. Lily and Scott were seeking a third partner to join a menage a trois. Before anybody actually met face to face, Lily dumped Scott and canceled the threesome, but she became e-mail pals with her would-have-been sex partner, Anna.

. . .Besides all the rules that sensible people follow when dating online, like “meet in a public place,” “let someone know where you are,” and “condoms are non-negotiable,” we developed our own special list for middle-aged chicks who date on Craigslist:

1) A lot of men want to screw Sarah Silverman. (Three lovers told Lily the potty-mouthed comedian was their “fantasy fuck.”)

2) With ads for people over forty, add at least five years and ten pounds to the photo. That way, when the older and heavier date shows up, you won’t be as disappointed. This rule is as applicable to men as it is to women.

3) Men have a tendency to overreport the number of sex partners they have had. Women underreport.

4) You better have a good memory if you want to date a lot. In case you don’t, call everybody “honey” to avoid mix-ups and make a cheat sheet on each with the name of their dog, their favorite movies, wines, and sexual positions. Failure to take notes will make pillow talk a minefield. If you are compulsive, go ahead and make a chart.

5) Promise little, deliver much.

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I’ll admit that casual sex for me is a total defense mechanism in order to experience intimacy without risking emotional detriment. I’d so much rather be fucked than fucked with. So when some guy suggested to me last week that we merely make out all night instead of have sex, I was immediately cautious of his intentions. It sounds backwards, I know, but it’s, uh, progressive. Right?

. . .

But I totally should’ve trusted my instincts, because they’ve never failed me before. Especially when one night, he actually asked me to enumerate all the things I liked about him. I thought it was weird, but I obliged with utter honesty, “You’re funny, you’re smart, you’re cute, you’re charming, blah, blah blah.” I ended with, “I like you so much it’s scaring me.” And it was then that he got what he wanted. About 30 hours later, after spending the entire weekend together—brunching, cuddling, kissing on the street, holding hands, playing Connect Four, while sober, mind you—I received a text that said that he really needed to be alone, and he hoped I would understand.

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