Disengagement: August, 2010

In the early days of splashing around in the dating pool, it was easy enough to disentangle myself when a romantic situation went awry. If I was feeling hurt or heartbroken, all I had to do was flip open my RAZR and scroll down the few dozen numbers I had stored, then delete the offending party. Done. Once the digits were erased, there was no way I could reach out in a moment of weakness, which could lead either to a) rejection and a re-opening of the wound or b) a renewal of a situation that would not end well.

In those days, running into a former love interest at a favorite hangout was unlikely; I had just a few very close friends, and our social circles were relatively insular. Sure, I’d be subject to the heartbreak of geography — passing by the location of that brilliant first kiss, the coffee shop where we’d meet sometimes, a playground where we spent a long late summer evening on the swings — but, given time and a chance to reclaim those spots, I could disengage from the aftermath and move on.

But the world is a different place, now, with Facebook and Twitter; with smartphones that store an almost unlimited number of contacts; and with a much larger social footprint than I could have dreamed would grow around me almost eight years ago.

Disengagement seems nearly impossible, short of running away to a different city (or becoming a hermit).

Or...you know...dropping off of Facebook.

A few years ago, a young woman connected with me, first via this blog, and then on Facebook. We had some great online conversations, and when we finally did meet, the fireworks were even noticeable to the strangers around us. One female diner actually approached us on her way out the door to say how adorable we were together. It was an enchanting feeling. Unfortunately, the young woman wasn’t really available for a relationship. So our short, impromptu rendezvous were romantic, loving, and limned by a sense of loss (that, in retrospect, may have made our connection that much more powerful), and I finally had to de-friend her from Facebook, because being privvy to her daily existence was just too painful.

These days, instead of deleting someone’s number and de-friending a person who has been more a source of pain in my life than pleasure, I tend to change the name in my iPhone (to something like DONE or NOT GOOD FOR YOU) and hide her from my Facebook news feed.

But it doesn’t matter if we’re connected on Facebook or not, because, as our social circles begin their inexorable collapse into each other, her face will show up in pictures my friends have taken. Or their messages to her will make their way onto my news feed. Her presence is forced on me, and it takes a much longer time than it would have otherwise for me to heal, to let go, to feel free of the heartache. And, yes, it goes the other direction as well.

I am grateful for the blessings of being so socially active and so connected and in love with my community. As the outsider growing up — the unpopular nerd with a couple of geeky friends; the drama dork trying to elicit a coolness that just wasn’t there; the boy with no sense of fashion or style; and, always, the new kid in the neighborhood — I am humbled by the sense of belonging I feel in my city.

But the word “blessing” comes from the word “blood,” and even in French “blessé” means wounded, or injured.

And in some ways, the blessing of connectedness, for me, is also a curse. I don’t know if Facebook is the main reason that my disparate social circles keep converging and overlapping, or if it’s a function of being in Denver for so long, but I’ve noticed that it’s been happening at an accelerating rate in the last year or so. My creative compatriots are connecting with my foodie friends, and my Jewish circle is overlapping with my local Twitter pals. The women I’ve dated, where the interval between my being with them was a year or more apart, are suddenly good friends, showing up together at events I’m a part of.

And you can see it all happening online — social media is fostering diverse and connected coteries of interaction and friendship. It’s exciting. It’s funny. It’s heartbreaking.

When I see a male buddy become friends with a former flame on Facebook, my heart aches a little bit. Are they going to start dating? Is it a love connection? And why can’t I have one of those, too?

In the meat world, people connect all the time; friends end up dating ex-girlfriends. But the cycle of break-up, healing, and friendship (or at least indifference) is generally long enough for feelings to equalize, for the two parties to disengage and step away from each other, and for everyone else to get out of the way for a little while. That’s just not the case, though, when we’re all up in each other’s business online.

But I’m not going to end this month’s column on a whiny note. The truth is, as much as I hate Facebook, I also love it for the way it allows me to connect and communicate.

So here’s a story.

My first love was a girl in summer camp. We were 13-years-old, and my heart was full of the possibilities — holding hands all day long, eating meals together, stealing kisses during night hikes, and sharing goodnight hugs before we went to our respective cabins. We had a very short time together, and though we wrote a few letters back and forth once camp was over, we soon lost touch.

Last year, a mutual friend found J and me on Facebook, and actually posted and tagged a photo of the two of us hugging. When we finally became Facebook friends, J told me that she had just recently shared the story of her first kiss (with me) with her young daughter. It was fun catching up on each other’s lives via email, but it wasn’t until a year or so later that we were finally able to cross paths in person.

I would be in NYC for just a couple of days (promoting my novel), and she was living there with her husband and three kids, so we made a plan to finally meet up.

Recognition was immediate — I was hoofing it across Columbus Circle, while she waited at the entrance to Central Park — and the big hug came before we stepped apart to get a good look at each other. She was older, but still the same girl I’d kissed for the first time so many years ago. We turned into the park. It wasn’t like we still knew each other, continuing a conversation as if time hadn’t passed, but we weren’t strangers, either.

It was one of those brilliant spring weekdays New Yorkers live for...and brag about. Warm and sparkly, with a slight cooling breeze; all the trees in bloom, the homeless at their cranky and histrionic best, suits eating lunch along park benches, some live jazz wafting along the green spaces. We walked for a couple hours, talking non-stop. J and I didn’t bother with the interval between that fire-hot summer of our pre-adolescence and the present. Our conversation was much more centered on our current lives— what we were up to, what was important to us, stories about our amazing kids. After a snack by the water on the Upper West Side, she brought me to her family’s corner apartment way up in one of the Trump buildings. I met her kids (her husband was out), took in the joy and chaos of her life, and then it was time for me to run to my next meeting.

This time, the hug was one between old friends reunited, and the magic of that afternoon is still with me. Someday, I’ll introduce Simone to J and her family, and we’ll all do something fun together. I have no doubt about it.

But we never would have found each other — in fact, it may never have even occurred to either of us to even look — if not for the miracle of Facebook.

We all have stories of renewed relationships (and unavoidable trainwrecks) courtesy of Facebook and Twitter and LinkedIn, so as much as I bemoan the heartache of the tangled web, I’m not ready to extricate myself from it.

Well...not today, at least. But check with me in a month.

 

 

Comments

[BW]

Hmmm. This post actually made me glad I quit facebook months ago. What's real and salient, are the people in my "actual" life. That way, when I cross paths with people from the past, there seems to be a more tingly authentic encounter with them. I don't want those "wow" moments to be from people popping up because a computer program made it happen. I prefer fate, but to each their own....

[Tim Taylor]

The tricky part of all of it is you're right it is all so public and out there. Honestly, I wonder how it will look when my current 9 year old becomes a 14 year old.

Hopefully I'll be in a committed relationship by that point so it will make it, at least partially, a moot point.

[Eric]

Tim,

It's a really good point, and something I think about all the time - with this blog, too!

That's why I'm talking about it at the Modern Media Man Summit next week in Atlanta. Can't wait.

Thanks for commenting!
Eric

[Anne]

Hey Eric,

Does it bother you that you write about women, real women with a real heart, a real soul, and real feelings, on your website to air out all the stuff that should remain private?

Does it make sense to you that maybe some of your words might hurt them?

It doesn't matter how you want to come off as a loving, sensing, and adoring man, who frequently praise women as "amazing," "incredible," and etc.

It doesn't matter that you can write, or can use phrases and words that sound so good on paper.

It does matter that what seems like honesty and word play to you may cause real harm and hurt to some of the people that you write about.

I'm not one of the women that you've ever dated. I'm just a woman who has truly loved a guy who's very much like you. If he wrote something like these about me, I'd have a host of reactions. If I was one of the women that you write about, I might feel something. But I have no way of talking back or telling my side of the story.

On your blog.

Maybe, maybe, just maybe, you should rethink about how writing this blog could shift the universe in ways unintended.

Maybe, maybe, maybe, you could write novels and stories.

Anne

[Michelle]

Bravo Eric E.!

It is thrilling to read a man writing with such emotion and transparency! I can't believe I just found your site--I know, I'm a little slow. Just fyi--I'm talking about after-marriage sexual journeys on my site next month. You will surely be invited to the conversation!

[Eric]

Anne,

I've been thinking a lot about your comment.

I'm very conscious of the fact that I write about real people in my life, and it has an impact on how/what I write. I learned some harsh lessons, with serious consequences, when I've shared something here before I've discussed it with the person featured in a post. So now I do my best to communicate one-to-one first, so that anything I write about someone (no names, of course) doesn't come as a surprise if she decides to read it here.

I also make every attempt to take the onus of foolishness on myself, and not show others in a bad light.

I do write novels and stories, and often think that some of the things that happen in my crazy, fun life would be better suited for fiction. But The Dating Dad has become a resource - not just a place for me to process my own growth (mostly), but where others who are struggling with the same things can see that someone else is dealing with the same issues.

I'm sure that's ultimately unsatisfying for you.

Thank you so much for taking the time to comment.

Eric

[LoriLynne]

Eric

I saw your CNN "Dad Blogs" segment this morning and wanted to say thank you to you and all the other Dad Bloggers. It's great to see "the other side" of parenting open up and share.

My son is 26 and I'm hopeful when he finally becomes a Dad he'll have so many resources available to support that amazing and challenging role of Fatherhood.

In an age where people constantly spew all sorts of extremely personal information and have no personal boundaries I think you've been very respectful. Your posts on such intimate experiences and personal feelings are thoughtful and insightful.

Keep up the good work for all those new dads, soon to be dads and dads who've been in the trenches.

~LL

[Lisa]

I change names of guys that are no longer in my life to DO NOT ANSWER on my Iphone.....(only those who proved themselves unworthy of any further dialogue). I don't even know WHICH guy it is that is calling, all I know is...DO. NOT. ANSWER. Every now and then one pops up. I hope the list does not expand!