Fast Forward To "Good Night"

That stranger at the bar has had his eye on you all night. Emboldened by a drink or two, he makes his move. If there's such a thing as love at first sight, there's also loathing at first look, and you've already decided that this guy doesn't stand a chance. You don't want to be rude, so you supply him with digits when he asks for your number, but what he hears when he calls is a pre-recorded message telling him what you didn't have the nerve to say: Not interested.

The Rejection Hotline is the latest gimmick on the dating scene, but since its purpose seems to be to prevent meaningful interaction with potential mates, it might be more accurately described as an "anti-dating" innovation. I concede it does serve a purpose.

If that man making his way to your seat at the bar has 666 carved in his forehead and his head shaved so the bristles form a swastika, by all means, give him a fake number unless you have a thing for Neo-Nazis. But sometimes we're too quick on the draw. Love rarely strikes at first sight. It grows with time. The same is true of more platonic feelings. We may decide that someone's clothing, voice or hairstyle disqualifies him from a place in our life, but if we give him a chance, we might reach a different conclusion.

It's ironic that the telephone that brings people together so quickly and conveniently is also a shield to keep them apart, and you don't need a Rejection Hotline to do it. No way will that first date be followed by a second, so whip out the cell phone and tell your companion you have to (A) check up on your terminally ill aunt; (B) your imprisoned brother; or (C) your cat, then inform your date that you must leave immediately to (A) administer last rites; (B) lead a jail break; or (C) perform the Heimlick Maneuver to remove that furball from Kitty's throat.

Thanks to technology, the world is now a global village. The TV in the living room brings the world into our homes, but as it commands our eyes and ears it can also prevent us from interacting with our mates and families. The internet lets us communicate with people from countries we never knew existed, but we often do so with a personality as invented as our user ID.

But the telephone remains our lifeline and protector. The answering machine prevents us from missing important messages, but it also keeps unwanted callers at bay. We roam the shopping mall with a phone glued to our ear and discourage strangers from making an approach. The cell phone is both a hand to hold, and a hand to raise when we want to say "Back off." We've become a nation of gunslingers with phones instead of Colt .45's.

Granted, some dates are so unbearable that a sneaky plan of action, that pre-planned "unexpected call," is excusable. But could the ease with which we can now free ourselves from any situation work against us when searching for love?

Maybe that man you're with is intimidating because he's so hot, and rather than struggle to overcome your shyness, you find it's easier to surrender to it, so you rush to a contrived emergency and leave him behind along with the glorious relationship that might have resulted if you had only been more patient. Perhaps he's the one who's shy and his awkward attempt at conversation convinces you that he's not too swift upstairs or too mild-mannered for your devil may care existence, so you flee before giving him the chance to relax and reveal himself as your perfect match.

Technology has made the world smaller, but it can also promote isolation by keeping us safely tucked away in our own private worlds. If television made our attention spans shorter, every innovation since has conditioned us to expect instant gratification and to make snap judgments often based on the skimpiest information and the most superficial clues.

The movie doesn't grab you in the first five minutes?

Hit the fast-forward, then complain that it doesn't make sense.

Your date isn't generating sparks before dessert arrives?

Whip out the cell, kill off a relative, and complain that you just don't meet anyone interesting. Fast-forward to "Good night."

I wouldn't want to go back to reading by candlelight or sending messages by Pony Express, but technology can be dehumanizing. Become too dependant on hi-tech toys, and you risk becoming a cold machine yourself. Who wants to wake up next to that?

by Brian W. Fairbanks

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