Category: Internet Dating

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Is Dating Dead?

You may be digging your own dating grave.

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Ask a Millennial about dating and you tend to get something along the lines of, “No one wants a relationship,” “Everyone just wants to hook-up,” and, “Dating is dead.” If you’re a millennial you can stop nodding now, because as a life, dating, and relationship consultant, I can tell you it’s absolute nonsense.

Modern dating is not all about hooking up – Millennials have less sexual partners than their parents, and not that many people actually spend their time swiping right or left – only 22% of 25-34-year-olds are actually dating online or on mobile apps. Research consistently shows that the majority of people would jump on the opportunity for exclusivity – 77% of 18-45-year-olds want it now, and 93% in five years and even Tinder agrees that 80% of its users want a long term relationship, so why does everyone have this negative perception on dating?

This negative perception comes from two main things; some people need to give themselves an excuse to hook-up, and people are burnout, and mainly disappointed.

Millennials live in an age where sexuality offers validation and pleasure, but pain and shame at the same time. You can become famous from a sex tape, but ridiculed and slut-shamed for a leaked nude. A selfie posted on Facebook can get over a couple hundred likes, but at the same time reported for explicit content or trolled for being too sexual.

It’s said that our actions are based on two things, to find pleasure and to avoid pain.People that actually just want to have no strings attached sex, pleasure, may find it easier to believe in, and blame hook-up culture for their actions. It’s a defense mechanism, “It isn’t my fault that I can’t find a relationship, I’m not a slut, it’s just how society is nowadays.” Consequently this tactic doesn’t do any of us any good, and only perpetuates that hooking up is the problem.

You can date without having sex, and you can have sex without dating. Once you realize this, the excuse everyone just wants to hook-up disappears. Let’s compare two scenarios. First scenario; you go on a date to a bar, or even better yet, you go over to someone’s apartment to watch a movie (Netflix and chill – an acceptable Millennial date). You end up having sex. There wasn’t a connection, so you don’t pursue a relationship. Despite if you liked the person or not, you tell everyone dating is dead, and everyone just wants to hook-up. This reasoning makes your actions acceptable, and you are not a slut, it just didn’t work out. Damn Millennials and hook-up culture.

Second scenario; you go on a date to a bar, (because you said no to the Netflix, but we should still chill), have interesting conversation, and then go home. You either connected or didn’t. You tell everyone dating is fun, or disappointing, but that won’t stop you from going on another date.

The difference in the scenarios is that in the first one, both people made it clear that sex was the goal (even if it wasn’t explicitly stated), while the second one was aimed at getting to know each other. People want to date, and people want to have sex. They are two different things. You get to choose which one you work towards. If you’re lucky, they happen together, but dating is a process that actually takes time, and effort.

Relationships are composed of a lot of dates, which is also a lot of work, and most of your first, second, and third dates will be dead ends, or maybe more, but then they might include a broken heart or two. This can lead to a feeling of hopelessness, and discouragement. No one wants to date, everyone just wants to hook-up. Dating and relationships suck. Then you’re back to telling yourself, “I’m not the problem, Millennial dating is all about hooking-up. I might as well give up or just join everyone else.”

There isn’t a class on dating and relationships in school, so the only way to learn about them is from experiences. Sadly, many of your experiences may be filled with rejection, heartbreak, or just boring dates. It’s your job to decide what you’re working towards. You control how you feel and act; if you hook-up, go on actual dates, and even if you give up on dating. Nothing is wrong with either, but stop blaming this idea of hookup culture.

The standards and expectations are yours to define. Be honest with yourself. Are you going out to have sex, to date, to develop a relationship or all of the above? What are you ready for? Figure that out, and then start acting like it, because dating isn’t dead, but you may be digging your own grave.

Complete Article HERE!

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Hookup culture is a cisgender privilege

by Jesse Herb

[H]ave you ever been called disgusting? What about deceitful or a liar? I have been called all three of these things, some more than once actually. I wish I could tell you that for every time I was called these names it was for a different reason but, unfortunately, the answer always boiled down to anatomy. What’s under my bra and what’s between my legs has made me fear for my life while simultaneously worrying I might let the possibility of experimentation pass me by.

Sex and gender are two very different things, and yet to most cisgender people, they are entirely the same: genitals equate sex, sex equates gender and therefore sexuality, and “badda bing badda boom we’re in business.” To be able to normalize the idea that everyone’s genitals align to their sex because that’s just how “it is” or is “science,” is enacting cisgender privilege and perpetuates transphobia. However, in actuality, “Most societies view sex as a binary concept, with two rigidly fixed options: male or female, both based on a person’s reproductive functions,” whereas gender is defined by “our internal experience and naming of our gender,” according to genderspectrum.org.

Privilege permeates in all different facets, in every community. In my own community, I have privilege, due to being white and cisgender-passing, but I also face the implementation of privilege done by cisgender people. One of the biggest examples of cisgender privilege is that of “hookup culture.” Hookup culture is defined as “one that accepts and encourages casual sexual encounters, including one-night stands and other related activity, which focus on physical pleasure without necessarily including emotional bonding or long-term commitment.” I’ve said it before, and as a trans woman, I’ll say it again: Hookup culture is a cisgender privilege.

It always has been and always will be. For most cisgender people, excluding demisexual (a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone), asexual (someone who does not experience sexual attraction), or non-sexually active cisgender people, it can be as simple as swiping right or finding someone at a party and going home with them. For trans people, it is an explanation. Sometimes, the explanation can happen at the beginning with “Just so you know, I’m trans,” or it can happen later after the “Why can’t we have sex?” talk. No matter what, the explanation will happen, and more often than not, it is greeted with rejection, erasure of identity or repulsion.

Some trans people, myself included, often feel we have to hide our identities as if it’s some shameful secret, rather than our gender. Not to mention, being hesitant to talk about our identities only reconstitutes the belief that trans people are always out to deceive. Or trans people, again myself included, experience the converse and are fetishized for our gender. I still remember my freshman year when some cisgender man told me, “I prefer trans women because, since they used to be guys, they know exactly what we like.”

Trans people are subjected to all of these treatments and are much more likely to experience violence due to sex than cisgender people, especially trans people of color. There are so many privileges to recognize that exist within hookup culture:

Not having to lie or hide your identity to a potential partner is a cisgender privilege. Having a one-night stand is a cisgender privilege. Unwavering sex positivity is a cisgender privilege. Stigmatization of no sexual activity/being a virgin is a cisgender privilege. Not being pressured into body-altering surgery is a cisgender privilege. Never having to worry if someone won’t like you because you’re transgender is a cisgender privilege. Not ever having to feel unlovable because of your own gender is a cisgender privilege.

The previous examples are only a small few of the long list of privileges that exist from hookup culture. Not to mention countless other societal institutions that also preserve cisgender privilege.

Transgender Day of Visibility is a day for members of the gender nonconforming community to feel proud, safe and valid. The best way cisgender people can present support is by understanding privileges within social constructs like gender and virginity, and actively combatting them. For example, when someone is complaining that “it’s so hard to find people” or “hookup culture is so annoying sometimes” remind them that not everyone, although still pressured by society to do so, can participate in hookup culture, and also face adversity, dysphoria or vilification for trying to.

Complete Article HERE!

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Sexual & Racial Politics in the Age of Grindr

Much like Facebook and Twitter, Grindr is a community of people interacting politically, revealing how our desires are shaped and politicized by culture.

By Senthorun Raj

[W]hy am I on it? What do I want? Who do I talk to? Which profile picture should I use? Where should I hook up? When am I going to delete this?

For those of us who use Grindr, these questions probably sound familiar. I know that they haunt my subconscious pretty much every time I load the app. Some of my friends even like to joke that I spend so much time talking about Grindr, as opposed to talking on Grindr, that I’m just a “Grindr Academic.” To them, I’m the person who writes about my sex life (like I’m doing right now) and then cites Michel Foucault to give it academic legitimacy. I find the joke endearing. But, we should not trivialize the politics of Grindr.

So, what can this space of hooking-up teach us about sexual and racial politics?

Whether you are cruising for casual sex or complaining about love or procrastinating online, Grindr has rapidly transformed the way we negotiate intimacy and frame sexuality. Erotic, platonic, and/or romantic relationships are now just a “click” away on our smartphones. With millions of users worldwide, Grindr has become a source of sexual sustenance. From the moment I tap on to Grindr, I’m connected to a range of other profiles via my geographical proximity to them. I am enmeshed in a process of—as one user so neatly describes—“window shopping.” What I choose to shop for as I scroll through profiles, however, tends to vary. Some profiles display semi-nude selfies that invite “NSA” (no strings attached sex) while others display a photo of a night out in a club to indicate their interest in “friends, dates and maybe more.”

I can use Grindr to organize casual sex, professional networks, neighborhood parties, friendship, and dating. There are infinite intimate possibilities. In the words of Lauren Berlant and Michael Warner, these new “sexual counterpublics” emerge to facilitate new forms of emotional and sexual labour that do not just revolve around the traditional imaginaries of reproductive or matrimonial relationships.

With such titillating possibilities, I could easily herald Grindr as a transformative and revolutionary space for queer connections. My optimism, however, comes with concern: filters cannot block the everyday cruelties of ignorance and inequality. Grindr, for example, relies on standard categories of defining bodies (ethnicity, height, weight, age) in order to mediate sexual desire. Many of the app users fashion their online identities through both visual and written statements that they are “masc” (masculine) and “str8 acting” (appearing heterosexual). In doing so, Grindr users mimic and reproduce norms of what is socially desirable.

Discussing our desires can evoke feelings of embarrassment or anxiety. We like to protect our intimate attachments from public interrogation. Apps like Grindr, however, blur such distinctions. When “personal preferences” take shape in rhetorical statements like, “Don’t be another old, ethnic, nelly bttm” or “If people can tell you’re gay … you’re not masculine,” private desires are woundingly public. Even if it is a virtual platform, much like Facebook and Twitter, Grindr is a community of people interacting politically.

Grindr users respond to these disaffecting profiles in various ways: some people angrily use the block button, more patient people try to challenge the rhetoric online, and others just take screenshots and vengefully send them to Douchebags of Grindr. For those who have not stumbled upon it, it is a website where we can revel in shaming those who shame. The idea of shaming arrogant Grindr users seems both fair and funny. But, despite this, the public “outing” and breach of privacy involved raise a number of ethical questions about how we should respond to the “Douchebag Politics” we encounter online.

We need to recognize that bigotry is a social malaise—not a personal pathology.  Grindr makes bigotry painfully apparent but this is not unique to the online platform. In making spectacles out of the purported douchebags on Grindr, we can make the more insidious forms of racialized activities seem palatable by comparison. After all, why does using overtly racist words in your profile attract moral opprobrium, while using an automatic filter to exclude certain kinds of bodies does not?

Making spectacles out of unrepentant bigots may satisfy or entertain us, but it does little to ensure that the intimate worlds we are building are inclusive and respectful. Whether we are on public transportation or networking online, racism is a systemic problem that is not just isolated to highly visceral tirades. Isolating people or profiles in order to stigmatize the individual person, rather than challenge the problematic behavior, is counterproductive. It just makes most of us more defensive (no one likes being labeled as a racist or homophobe even if they obviously are). Moreover, this usually limits our ability to confront the more insidious forms of prejudice that underscore such problematic behavior or that which is coded in terms of “preferences.”

This is not to suggest we can turn to anti-discrimination law in order to redress our sexual grievances. We should not treat desires as justiciable. There is little value in policing ourselves to desire others on the basis of exclusion. Finding someone solely attractive because of, or in spite of, their difference—whether it is their perceived “Asianness” or a specific body type—turns people into fetish or pitied objects to be consumed.

But, we do need some uncomfortable reflections. We live in a society that privileges certain kinds of body types, genders, ethnicities, and ages. From eroticizing heterosexual masculinity or whiteness to repudiating effeminacy or fatness, Grindr is saturated with social hierarchies that are pervasive in society. Grindr shows us how our desires are shaped and politicized by culture. Few of us would deny that.

While we are often quite willing to confront the scenes of bigotry that our visible to us in public forums, we need to extend this ethic when reflecting on the prejudices that operate at the most banal and emotional level of our lives.

Grindr is a tool for sex. It’s also a tool for politics. In the words of Audre Lorde, “our visions begin with our desires.” So, let’s be open about that. The political is personal.

Complete Article HERE!

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Why Generation Tinder won’t go back to dating ‘the old-fashioned way’

By Jenny Noyes

“My most memorable Tinder date?” Kate Iselin gestures as if to say get ready. “It was a gentleman who invited me to lunch, took me to the food court at Martin Place and showed me a photo of his penis. Soft.”

It’s not the fondest memory Iselin – a writer and former sex worker – has of her experiences on the app. But the negative and the bizarre do have a tendency to stick with you.

Horror stories aside, Iselin, 28, is overwhelmingly positive about the impact apps like Tinder have had on the contemporary dating experience. And she’s not alone.

Despite a steady stream of articles about Tinder “killing romance”, making people depressed, or putting them in danger, the app and others like it are as popular as ever (even if some users are loathe to admit it).

Iselin herself has recently returned to 30 Dates of Tinder, a blogging project she’d abandoned a year ago due to “personal stuff” including a relationship. The concept is fairly self-explanatory: she goes on 30 random dates, and writes about them. Now halfway through, she’s accepted every date request received – “provided the date location was safe and they didn’t seem like a closet serial killer,” she says.

Clearly, there’s an appetite for reading stories about Tinder – and part of that is a fascination with what can happen when virtual strangers attempt to light a flame.

But as dating via Tinder increasingly becomes the norm, it’s less about the novelty of using a phone app to date people off the internet. Four years since Tinder launched, Iselin says she’s returning to her project with “a slightly more serious goal”. It’s now more about answering an age-old question than exploring a curious new technology: “To prove that love exists.”

Of course, the proof is already out there among the growing number of successful, lasting relationships launched via Tinder or its myriad competitors. These apps aren’t just facilitating one-night stands. People are finding lasting love in such significant numbers it is no longer considered “weird” to have a partner found online.

Fairfax Media columnist Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen has met almost all of the people she’s dated, in her 28 years, online. Whereas five to 10 years ago there was a stigma attached to meeting people via the internet, it is now “completely normalised” among Gen-Y.

“Most people I know in relationships that have started in the last few years have met their significant others on Tinder,” she says.

Eliza Berlage, 26, met her boyfriend of 10 months on Tinder. She says it’s really a numbers game. “You could go to so many bars, libraries, music festivals, house parties, and still have as much luck … just swiping it lucky and giving it a chance and seeing how it goes.”

With numbers comes choice. And according to Iselin, it’s the choice these apps offer that makes them truly revolutionary – especially for women, minorities, and people whose preferences lie outside the norm.

Although there are some who feel nostalgic for the pre-Tinder dating scene, Iselin reckons women have never had it better; and she doesn’t see us ever going back.

“I know a lot of people say, ‘I would never use Tinder because I want to meet the love of my life the old-fashioned way’. But when we talk about old-fashioned times, we’re talking about a time when women in particular did not have a lot of choice in meeting partners.”

The same goes for people who may be otherwise constrained from exploring their sexuality ‘the old-fashioned way’, says Senthorun Raj, Grindr enthusiast and academic in law and gender studies.

“For people who are busy, those who have social, mental, or physical mobility issues, or individuals who are worried about ‘outing’ their sexual or gender identity in public spaces, dating apps can be a more comfortable way to chat, socialise, and become intimate than meeting people at clubs or bars,” he says. “For same-sex-attracted and gender-non-conforming people especially, these apps can be lifelines to connect with others dealing with similar experiences.”

What’s more, they have the ability to make connections “with people who we would never encounter in the places or circles we normally frequent,” he adds.

Of course, it’s not all rainbows, love-hearts and wink emojis for women, racial minorities or LGBT people. Prejudice and harassment is a real issue – but Raj says it would be a mistake to suggest apps like Grindr and Tinder have unleashed it.

“While Grindr does not cause these stereotypes, apps do make it easier in some ways to express harmful racial, age, and other ‘preferences’ because of anonymity or because the lack of ‘in-person’ interaction makes you feel like what you say or do online is … subject to less critical scrutiny.”

Nguyen says rape threats and racist, sexist comments are things she’s personally had to deal with just as much offline as on dating apps and social media.

“There’s such a big moral panic when it comes to online dating and safety, and it’s valid but we also need to remember that women face this everywhere. It really comes down to better education in schools about consent and respectful connections, and also the apps ensuring that they take reports of violence seriously.”

Sex and relationships expert Cyndi Darnell agrees that while mobile dating apps have revolutionised the sexual choices available and the ease with which users can access them, ultimately better education is needed to improve the human interaction side of things.

“We’re still operating on a very, very, very limited consent framework in terms of discussions around sex and pleasure … and yet our technology is far more advanced than that,” she says.

“There’s no app for getting over awkwardness. There’s no app for managing sexual anxiety. That’s the thing we need to remember: just because there is more access to sex, it doesn’t mean the quality of the sex has improved. We mustn’t confuse quantity with quality.”

Then again, there’s quality to be found – especially if you’re willing to put in the effort. “I’ve been on excellent dates and I have friends who’ve ended up in the most magical relationships,” says Iselin, who’s confident she’ll achieve her goal in one way or another by the end of her 30 dates.

“We are the generation now going to Tinder weddings. There are Tinder babies. I think that’s really exciting, and that gives me faith.”

Complete Article HERE!

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He Knows Me; He knows Me Not

SEX! — We have a finite number of erogenous zones, but an infinite number of ways and means of stimulating them. INTIMACY! — We have a finite number of needs, but an infinite number of ways and means of satisfying them.

Sex is one a way of expressing intimacy and intimacy can give meaning to sex. Simple, right? As if! When sex and intimacy collide, confusion, disappointment and frustration abound.

Doc,I really have a serious problem. I can have sex all day long — women, men, whatever ya got — not a problem. And I think I’m really good at it too. That is until there’s hugging and kissing. Again, — women, men, whatever ya got — big problem. I don’t mind a quick hug or embrace, or a fleeting kiss, but anything more than that and I just freeze up. I can’t seem to relax inside myself while in another’s embrace. I am 39 and worry about dying alone and forgotten, because I can’t let myself get close to someone long enough to fall in love. I know this sounds foolish, but I have never even slept with another person, like after sex, in my whole life. What’s wrong with me?   — Frozen

Wanna know what’s wrong with you, Frozen? Easy! You’re a human, that’s what’sbrutos4235.jpg wrong with you! You are exhibiting a very human characteristic, a fear of intimacy, albeit a rather severe case of it indeed.

Many people are able to perform sexually, while having difficulty with intimacy. When I see such a person in my therapy practice, I help my client overcome this rift by encouraging him to gradually increase the amount of intimacy he is comfortable with every sexual encounter. It’s a simple behavior modification thing.

So, I suggest that you hold an embrace a minute or two longer each time you are embraced, taking the intimacy a bit deeper than you did the time before. The same goes for kissing — hold a kiss for a few moments longer, or kiss a little deeper each time a kiss is offered. You’ll have to concentrate and make a concerted effort, because this is unfamiliar territory for you. But you have a really strong motivation; you don’t want to be sad and alone. I think you’ll find that you will be rewarded handsomely with everything you invest in this exercise.

A good potion of any fear is what we talk ourselves into about the feared thing. Sure, there may be a traumatic event at the source of some of our fears. But even if there is, we have the capacity to move through the remembrance, let go of the trauma and move on with life.You’ve been living with this phobia for a long time, Frozen. It’s become second nature for you. As you apply yourself to overcoming your dread of intimacy, have some compassion for yourself. Know this will take time. In fact, it’ll be the work of a lifetime.

My advice to you is to set a goal for yourself. Try to turn some of this aversion to intimacy around. Give yourself say 6 or 8 weeks to make this happen. Start out with baby steps, but don’t hesitate to stretch and challenge yourself. Let your partner(s) know that you are working on something important. Ask for his (their) help and patience. You’ll be able to overcome your hesitancy even sooner with the help and encouragement of others. Ask for feedback on your progress.

Keep at it till you are comfortable cuddling in someone’s arms for an hour or till you can kiss someone passionately without wanting to pull away. Celebrate the fullness of your personhood; don’t just settle for bumping parts.

Good luck

Dear Dr. Dick,I could sure use you some advice on how to find Mr. Right! Can you help? Here’s the thing, I only meet guys that want sex….they objectify me and just think about their own needs. I’m sick of it. I’m including a link to my online profile and photos of myself so you can judge for yourself.Where can I go to meet someone that believes sex is mutual?    — Why Not Take All of Me

Are you trying to tell me that someone as delicious as you is having trouble connecting with quality people? If so, what chance is there for us mere mortals?

Listen, I don’t mean to be flippant. It’s just that looking at your photos and reading your profile, you sound like a dream. Of course, maybe that’s the problem.brutos3046.jpgI’m not sure asking me, or anyone else for that matter, how YOU should go about finding Mr Right is the correct way to go. The reason being, there’s a different Mr Right for everyone. For some, Mr Right is no more than a pretty face, stiff dick and a supple ass.

Your needs appear more complex. One thing for sure, if you are looking for the perfect match for YOU, integrity and authenticity are preeminent. Don’t settle for less than what you want.That being said, you might begin by reassessing how you present yourself online. If the images you post suggest sex, that’s what you will attract. I mean come on — all those eye-popping nude full body shots of yourself; the close-up of your dripping hardon; your ass backed up to the camera lens like that, so that everyone and his mother can see where the sun don’t shine. And your profile, it proudly proclaims, “power bottom extraordinaire.” — Trust me, darlin’, none of this invites anyone to take you seriously for the dignified, well-rounded person you claim to be.

Finding Mr Right, is difficult at any stage of life. While you sound like a decent enough guy, you are no longer a youth. This time of life presents it’s own unique challenges. Are you carrying lots of personal baggage that may be off-putting to potential partners? I see that a lot in my more mature clients. They are too set in their ways to really enjoy the spontaneity of a new relationship.Lots to consider, huh?

Good luck

Dear Dr. Dick,  I have recently been going out with this great guy. He’s had three long-term relationships in the last 10 years or so. He says that with each one, when they met, he felt a “spark.” (I guess he means the spark of attraction, or passion.) But each of his relationships came to a crashing end.Anyway, this guy and I have been chatting on the internet for hours every day for weeks, but have only had two dates in person. And both times we got down to sex rather quickly. Now he says he wants things casual between us, because he didn’t feel any spark upon meeting me. He says I’m not his soul mate.I think this “spark” is passion. But fiery as it is, it always burns out, as it did with his first three partners.I’m different, I fall for a guy by getting to know him, finding mutual interests, and developing intimacy over time. (Although this method hasn’t worked for me, any better than his method has worked for him.)Is the approach through friendship better or worse than the approach through passion? Is there a future for a couple like us?  — In Way Too Deep

My gut feeling is that there isn’t enough common ground here for anything more than asensitif.jpg garden-variety casual internet connection. And I suspect you both are looking for something more permanent than that. That is what you are talking about, right?

While you may have enough in common to consume hours of internet time each week, (no big challenge there, you can train a chimp to do the same) the sex thing, or passion thing, or whatever else one calls it these days, simply isn’t there. And there’s no making it suddenly appear at this point in your association. Your internet “date” is not about to be dazzled by anything that isn’t highly combustible, regardless of how poorly this has served him in the past. Your method, on the other hand, ain’t getting you married either.

Alas, we’re such creatures of habit.I am of the mind that passion is the stuff that keeps us thrilled while we slog through the less appetizing “getting-to-know-him” and “getting-adjusted-to-his shit” phase. In fact, I believe the “fireworks” thing is designed to distract our attention — or more precisely — blind us to the more unsavory aspects of the guy we’re bumping.

If there are no fireworks we’d immediately see the guy’s an overweight psychopath, with anger management issues, bad teeth, a little dick, shameful personal hygiene, a ridiculously low IQ, dwarfed only by his bank account, who picks his nose and lets his mother run his life.Time to move on, darlin’!

Good luck