Looking for True Love 寻找真爱
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Online dating is about vanity. Simply put, I think that I'm too attractive, too interesting and too young to need to subject myself to the trauma of courting on the Internet.
But there's another reason, too—it's that I love a story. One of my favorite parts of dating is a charming "how we met" anecdote. And I'm sorry, but there's nothing charming about Harmony. So when someone I know admitted that part of getting over his first love meant realizing that he'd been "in love with the story"—the two of them met in the desert in Israel—I immediately recognized my own experience.
Specifically, I recognized my Missed Connection. It was the Internet that brought us together, ironically, but there was plot. We made eye contact on a Brooklyn-bound train and then found one another through the Missed Connections page on Craigslist. I posted the ad, for the first time in my life, and he hadn't even heard of the site until reading about it in the Times Book Review two weeks prior.
On our first date, he unassumingly disclosed a critical mass of Ideal Boyfriend qualities: he was six-foot-five and a lawyer for a labor union. He asked me questions and read the New Yorker. He had become an ordained minister online so that he could perform the weddings of both of his younger sisters.
He was so completely good-natured that, initially, my attraction vanished. (I questioned my sexuality the way I had after the first time I kissed an attractive man and felt nothing—only years later realizing it was because he was meek and unintelligent.) But the story of my Missed Connection was so compelling that I persevered, eventually convincing myself that I should probably marry him. When life plans pulled us apart after just three months of dating, I felt devastated. Recently, though, when our paths crossed briefly for beers and conversation, we had a great time—but the chemistry wasn't there. I had to admit that, on some level, it never truly was.
Sometimes we encounter the opposite: We find the connection, but not the story. The other night I talked with a friend who is navigating an increasingly serious relationship. Outwardly creative and 14)liberal, she always anticipated that she'd end up with someone similar. The man she's dating isn't: He's clean-cut and has a "conventional" job. He's right for her in deeper, more fundamental ways—but she admits it's a struggle to accept that, superficially, he's not what she thought she wanted. He doesn't reflect the story she believed about herself.
No matter where we meet people—on the subway or online—all of us make up stories that reinforce notions of our relationships and ourselves. It's the way we make sense of the world: I'm not sure any of us could survive without giving our lives some compelling plot lines. I certainly couldn't. But even as I do, I will try to remember that any connection I'm lucky enough to find with someone is far more important than whatever story that connection might tell.
我讨厌网络相亲的最大原因在于其虚有其表。简而言之，我认为自己太有魅力、太有趣也太年轻了，根本没有必要去经历网络求爱这种精神创伤。
不过，这其中还有另外一个原因——我喜欢有故事的爱情。对于约会，我最钟爱的部分便是“我们如何相识”这件迷人轶事。真抱歉，“网络红娘”根本跟迷人不沾边。因此，当我的一位朋友承认结束其初恋的部分原因是他明白到自己一直以来只是“与那个故事相爱”——他们两人是在以色列的沙漠中相遇的——我立刻想到了自己的经历。
具体来说，我想到了自己一段错过的联系。讽刺的是，让我们找到了对方的正是网络，当中还有情节。我们在一列开往布鲁克林方向的火车上有过一面之缘，随后在“克雷格菜单”网站的“寻人启事”页面中找到对方。我发布了平生第一则寻人广告，而他是在前两周读到《时代》杂志的书评时才知道这个网站。
我们第一次约会时，他自然地流露出成为理想男友的基本条件：身高六尺五寸(约2.17米)，是一名工会律师。他对我嘘寒问暖，喜欢读《纽约客》杂志。他在网上获得牧师的圣职，好让自己能为两个妹妹主婚。
他的脾气好得太彻底了，以致我对他从一开始便不感兴趣。(与这么有魅力的男人接吻却没有任何反应，我当时不禁怀疑自己的性能力——多年后我才明白那只是因为他太温顺，不够机灵。)然而这个“错过的联系”的故事让人如此无法抗拒，我一直坚守这段感情，甚至最终说服自己应该嫁给他。当我们约会了三个月，生活计划将我们拉扯开的时候，我整个人都崩溃了。而最近，我们相约小酌几杯，闲聊几句时相处得非常愉快——只是不再有心跳的感觉。我不得不承认，在某种程度上，我们之间从来就不存在爱情。
有时候，我们的际遇却刚好相反：我们找到的是感觉，而非相遇的故事。有一天晚上，我和一位朋友聊天，她正处于一段日渐认真的恋情当中。她从外表来看创意多多，崇尚自由，一直期待与一个同道中人在一起。和她约会的那个男人并非如此：他轮廓分明，从事一份“刻板”的工作。他在更深层次、更基本的方面却正合适她——但她称接受这样的现实的确不容易，表面上看，他不是她认为自己想要的对象。他完全无法体现她相信的那个关于自己的故事。
无论我们在什么样的地方与人相遇相识——在地铁站还是网络——我们都会编造一些故事，加强对彼此关系和自身的想法。这就是我们认知世界的方式：若不给自己的生命添加一些无法抗拒的故事情节，我不太确定是否还有人能继续活下去。我就绝对不行。然而即便我喜欢故事，我仍将努力去记住这一点——任何我有幸能从某个人身上找到的感觉，都远比这种感觉所讲述的故事来得重要。
