Typefaces and Science

In the digital menagerie of online dating, I emailed a lad a simple question relating to his profile. Here are the topics of our emails that followed:

Him: Local campaigns, jumping in piles of leaves, climbing treesMe: Scaring the tourists, unrealistic political aspirationsHim: Having a security escort out of a tree, ridiculous political stances to spark debate, attempts to conquer the moonMe: Campaigns in the age of Facebook, the price of a good suit, privatization of the moonHim: Enthralling one’s students through radical cartography, planning parties through Facebook, OSHA regulationsMe: CPR, circuitous routes to finding careers, the Mason-Dixon line, ubiquitous embarrassing photos, receiving random chats from men who want to talk about their penis sizeHim: General fear of the deep south, moving around as a kid, the rare occurrence of liking one’s job, people who use the internet to be ironically dumb, the use of parenthesisMe: Stoplights in rural areas, Century Gothic, third-party certificationHim: Population density, Trebuchet, being generally trusting, impending deadlinesMe: Finding climbing trees, appreciating art on a visceral levelHim: Film festivals, a possible future in craft fairs, bagging groceriesMe: Physical labor, fake tattoos, sealing waxHim: Documentaries vs. comedies, steel nib pens, Times New Roman vs. Baskerville, chocolate.

Do you notice any topics that were not discussed? Namely, the two of us meeting?!

In my defense, most of this correspondence happened while I was juggling three other boys. Hmm. That defense doesn’t seem nearly as strong as I thought it was going to be. At any rate, I didn’t notice this notable absence from our conversation until we were a dozen emails in. Then I thought to myself, “Why not see how long he’ll go?”

Yeah, that idea didn’t last long. It only took one more email exchange for me to realize I did not need an internet pen pal. So I sent him the following email:

Do you realize that we’ve now sent a total of 14 emails back and forth over the span of two months and neither of us has suggested meeting? This brings me to this question:

    You haven’t asked to meet me because:    a.) What’s two months? I like to wait an average of six.    b.) I am waiting for you to say something interesting.    c.) I’m married and I get a kick out of being pen pals with single chicks.    d.) What the hell are you talking about? YOU haven’t asked to meet ME, either!

In all seriousness, I am interested in your answer. I find that emailing back and forth too many times before meeting leads to dangerous expectations, but somehow our conversation got away from me. Whoops! Bad conversation! BAD!

He responded to say he agreed that emailing too much causes unrealistic expectations, and for this reason he, as well, likes to meet as soon as possible. His excuse for not asking to meet me? He’s had hermit-like tendencies the past couple of months.

Now THERE is an attractive quality!

But I feel like I’ve put too much effort into this one to write him off due to hermitness. (Hermittude?) On the other hand, I have gone way beyond the safe point. Without meaning to, my imagination has filled in the many gaps. I now have basic assumptions about his demeanor and level of gregariousness that cannot help but disappoint me when once again someone’s writing does not perfectly reflect conversation skills. While I can make every attempt to keep my expectations low, there is only so much I have control over. Our minds are trying to fill in the gaps. Expectations grow on their own.

So I guess we’re already sunk before we’ve even met. But wait! SCIENCE TO THE RESCUE!

A post on ScienceDaily exposed a secret weapon against expectations. Citing a University of Michigan study, the act of washing your hands can make you lose the need to justify previous decisions. Like, say, the decision to go out with the boy in the first place!

    According to the authors, the results show that as much as washing can cleanse us from traces of past immoral behavior, it can also cleanse us from traces of past decisions, reducing the need to justify them.

    This "clean slate" effect may be relevant to many choices in life. Does washing away the urge to justify one's choice of one car over another, or even one partner over another, result in less rosy evaluations of them in the long run? If so, does this increase buyer's remorse because buyers are less likely to convince themselves that they made the best choice possible?

Buyer’s remorse? Nah. This is just coffee. Before I meet him I shall literally wash my hands to rid myself of all previous decisions made about him, conscious and unconscious.

Of course, after I meet him, I may wash my hands of him.