Oh, I don't think that merely reaching middle age makes this less descriptive. I hear plenty from perfectly respectable middle aged people about their Tinder dates - indeed, I am waiting on a reply from my most datey friend about whether the Victorian Studies professor has responded to her date suggestions yet. I surmise that he's a bit upper class for our social circle and she'll either need to class up and disappear if they hit it off or meeting us all will lower her in his sight and it will never work. On the other hand, he's middle aged and single, so perhaps he's socially incompetent enough that even wealth, a PhD and tenure won't prevent him from accepting our rather rackety social circle. Or perhaps he's looking to class down.
As I've gotten older I've realized that my lonely childhood has made me a loner adult and I no longer even want to want to participate, whereas I used to wish that I wanted to date enough to set up profiles, learn to swipe right, etc etc.
But for those of us past middle-age, with kids in their 20s and 30s... snarling is somehow not so much fun: hollow snarling or snarling out of the other side of our mouth/face*.
*Teh google can't seem to make up its mind about whether one laughs out of the other side of the mouth or face.
1.2: Yeah. If something happened to my marriage (divorce, widowhood), I cannot imagine being willing to bother with all the bother of getting to know someone intimately. Again, a change in the last couple of decades. OTOH, one never knows: if I found myself in that situation, I might well realize that I knew/know myself much less well than I thought.
the Victorian Studies professor has responded to her date suggestions yet..... he's middle aged and single, so perhaps he's socially incompetent enough...
Steampunk nerd?
Some part of me is still surprised that they have all these internety things in England. Shouldn't dating there consist of eel pies, concerns about landed inheritance, and solving devilishly clever murder mysteries?
The first email account I ever had was from an English university. Nobody in America that I knew had an account back then.
3. It's not necessarily a bother. It can happen as a side-effect of spending pleasant time together. I also had forgotten about the possibility of chemistry, of just really liking being around someone where there's reciprocal attraction.
The electronic fora that the writer snarks about make it possible for people who are somehow unusual (middle-aged, I'd guess gay or from ethnic minority also) to politely express interest and meet. I call bullshit on the snark-- is it seriously the position of a succesfull, weoight-proportionate actress that a past of arranged dates or lonely-hearts ads in newspapers was preferable?
Curiosity now: she's an actress. Did she actually write this, or was it ghosted? Is there other writing of any sort from her anywhere?
It seems like routine snark to me. I feel nothing.
Shouldn't dating there consist of eel pies, concerns about landed inheritance, and solving devilishly clever murder mysteries?
I thought it was all coalpits, loquacious atheists and dingy factories for the export of television programs to America's theater kids.
9: Well, I thought it was all hook-ups in dingy 1930s bedsits after communist party meetings, plus hill-walking and floppy hair.
What happens in 1930s communist meetings in England is that the frumpy communist girl inherits a fortune if she can become fun loving through the assistance of a member of the landed aristocracy.
No, what happens is an ill-starred love-affair marred by class differences, then one person runs off in rejected sorry to fight in the Spanish Civil War and dies horribly of dysentery, leaving the other to guilt and the blitz. Or, alternatively, it's more of a May-December aging Bloomsbury Set thing. Or perhaps one is just Maynard Keynes and is marking time until one falls in love with a ballerina.
"rejected sorrow".
"Rejected, sorry" is the comment that started the whole process, naturally.
Her Majesty the Queen sent her first e-mail in 1976, so...from the headquarters of the Royal Corps of Signals, Blandford Forum, probably to someone who could tell her how to get out of Blandford Forum as quickly as possible.
It's not a love affair. The landed aristocrat is unshakably focused on Mary Sue.
I think it was intended to be funny, but Kids These Days think snark = funny.
12 I thought dating there was about getting stupid drunk, mutual groping and fumbling around, and then being slightly embarrassed in the morning.
17: That has sensitivity but not specificity.
4: We can only hope, but her track record with academics in the past leads me to believe the worst. She - a smart person with a terrific career - finds them way more impressive than they really are, and sets these schmoes with mediocre publication records and soft money funding up on a pedestal as arbiters of all things braining.
Brainy. Good lord. It's a good thing I'm not trying to date an academic.
17: "there" refers to the earth, correct?
22 is a let down. I was googling for where to apply for a grant that would let me do some trepanning.
I just assumed "braining" was a new word for what intellectual-types do.
So I am leaving very early this morning for an assignation in Berlin with the woman who was the subject of this bleg and this great piece of advice from dairy queen.
I don't want to jinx things, this is the first time we're meeting in the flesh. But it's been intense, absolutely the most thrilling and amazing thing I've experienced in decades and all totally unexpected at this time in my life. Just a lot of wonderful sharing, mutual interests and passions and intense attraction and a string of amazing coincidences. And yeah, we met on the internet but not on any dating site. A gift.
And yeah, we met on the internet but not on any dating site.
The LOLcat forums aren't technically a dating site, but you're not the only one to use them that way.
Isn't 27 typically prelude to "found with his organs removed?"
In Berlin you're rescued from the basement where you were confined several years later in a gimp mask. Totally different.
Pshaw, reprobates. Lineaments of gratified desire, Barry!
found with his organs removed
Yeah, but they let you keep your heart, because that's all you need to love.
33 is right. Just because we murder people we meet on the internet doesn't mean everybody else does.
Many happy lineaments of the weekend, Barry
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Weird. I am sitting on a commuter train crammed up with a man who is debugging a flash game on his laptop. It does not look gripping.
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In Berlin you're rescued from the basement where you were confined several years later in a gimp mask.
You know, Josef Fritzl was an Austrian!
Have fun, Barry! And remember nothing excites a woman like, "Excuse me for a moment, I need to post a quick update on what we just did".
21
Wait, I thought people finding you more impressive than you actually are is the only reason to go into academia!
Or all attempt it, one surviving, Eggplant; as the troubadors would have it, a Tournament of Love.
YOU KNOW WHO ELSE WAS AN AUSTRIAN?
Have tons of fun Barry!
I liked dating, it was generally fun. But then I still like flirting and am in general very pro companionship. The better half and I have always insisted on a mutual promise that if anything happened to one of us the other would find a new wonderful person without unreasonable delay. I fully intend to police this as a shade au cas ou.
I find online tools inexplicable as never had too much trouble meeting likely folks in person. I'd probably adapt though.
Thanks everyone.
And the Blake moves me and is most fitting.
40 Or what is potentially worse, getting caught updating and attempting to explain Unfogged, "Well you see there's this eclectic long running internet community made up from all walks of life, well there's lots of lawyers and academics true...really intelligent discussion with witty banter and...Opinionated Grandma...yeah, on the veldt...and going presidential is whenever you want to confess someth...no no no, it's called an ekranoplan. E-K-R-A-N-O-P-L-A-N. It's a ground-effect vehicle...Wry Cooter, I said Wry Cooter, get it? And whenever some celebrity type dies we rush to announce it by prefacing it with NMM, meaning...hey, hey why are you walking away from me, I thought we had something here?"
I surmise that he's a bit upper class for our social circle and she'll either need to class up and disappear if they hit it off or meeting us all will lower her in his sight and it will never work.
He just studies Victorians, he isn't actually one.
For breakup stage one recommendation has always been to do it in a public place where the other person probably can't publicly go nuts but can simply get up and leave. Or you could try a roller coaster, eso. if that's been the nature of thge relationship and you want to rule out any chance of break-up sex.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4W2pQoiWsNM
If your exertions leave you sore, Barry, try out the liniments of gratified desire.
40.last: You've been eavesdropping as I talk to Buck?
47: They did have working class Victorians, surprisingly enough.
I just haven't met too many proletarian literature professors, although I have met occasional professors of proletarian literature, more or less.
I mean, maybe he'll be delightful. (I'm fairly confident that he's not neb, although that would be awesome.) It's just that this isn't her first time at the great dating-people-with-PhDs rodeo, and the last one was, I kid you not, independently wealthy. Not a bad guy, but the rich are different, etc.
They did have working class Victorians, surprisingly enough.
I am aware of that, I just meant that your description of how he or she would negotiate their class differences struck me as old-fashioned (but whaddo I know).
I can confirm that I am not the person in question.
I formerly dated a person studying to have, who now has, a Ph.D., who was very poor (despite being the niece of a very, very wealthy person).
One of the bartenders at the place I usually go is a literature professor.
One of the bartenders at the pub at the U of C has a religious studies doctorate.
I bet that pub doesn't even have Yuengling on tap.
53: Sorry, I know you know there were working class Victorians. I was trying to joke.
I don't mean to be a jerk (and how often I could say that!); it's just that this particular friend has a habit of dating men from fancier class backgrounds than hers, many of them academics, and getting treated rather badly in ways that are definitely class-linked. Plus, she tends to assume that they're all just incredibly super-duper extra-double-plus smarter than she is because they have PhDs, that she's lucky that they'll date dumb ol' her, that dating an academic kinda-sorta proves that she isn't dumb after all, etc etc. She has personal reasons for this huge set of hang-ups, but it just really, really frosts me - both because she has a very unusual, very demanding career that requires, actually, enormous intelligence and because these men really are pretty shiftless and self-absorbed.
57: To continue: she falls all over herself to get things for them that they like (their favorite obscure beverage; their favorite obscure movie; their special imported vintage jazz disc) or to set up vacations that are classy enough; she's routinely out-of-pocket even though they're richer than she. And they never reciprocate. It pisses me off no end to go over there and discover a fancy meal catered to Dr. Jerk's specific tastes, to which Dr. Jerk contributed nothing and about which Dr. Jerk subtly implies that it's not actually as good as in Sardinia or whatever.
If she took a kidney from one of them every now and then, the finances would work out evenly.
At some point, given that she's the common factor, you have to figure that the problem isn't just that she's dating fancy rich guys, it's that she's finding fancy rich guys who are likely to treat her badly in that way -- there's something about the personality that attracts her.
58 does sound like a rather awful pattern.
60: Yes, she's certainly the common factor; in theory she could find a delightful Victorianist. Which is why I'm dreading this one a bit - it seems likely that he'll be awful.
I mean, I'd like him not to be awful, because perhaps his interests will overlap with mine a bit and we can talk about Thomas Carlyle or celery dishes or something. Perhaps he'll even cook!
Carlyle combined the litr'y life,
With throwing teacups at his wife,
Remarking rather testily,
"Oh, stop your dodging, Mrs. C.!"
60.1 Or she could find someone who's into dressing all period and only using 19th century tech except whenever they're updating their website/Patreon/Kickstarter/Twitter feed like that insufferable couple we were discussing here awhile back (can't find the thread).
27: Barry, if you feel nervous, imagine Hitler in his underwear her in her underwear me standing beside you to give you strength in this tribulation singing "Bow chicka chicka chicka chicka wow wow," in German.
64: If she ends up with a LARPy type, I'm hoping that he'll either be into the art nouveau period or not be a Victorianist at all but instead be into Russia at the time of the boyars.
(I hope the meeting goes well, Barry.)
If it helps at all, the job market for Victorianists has seemed to be selecting more for people interested in class, race, colonialism, and gender. Or, that was at least my impression in the early 2000s.
she tends to assume that they're all just incredibly super-duper extra-double-plus smarter than she is because they have PhDs
A bit of reading around the academic blogosphere might go a long way toward dispelling that particular delusion.
If it helps at all, the job market for Victorianists has seemed to be selecting more for people interested in class, race, colonialism, and gender.
Its hard out there for a monocle specialist.
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This week in mistakes competent adults don't make:
Monday: Oh hey, I'm going to a conference this weekend, let me check when I leave. [looks at google calendar] Huh, I'm going out thursday night---but my panel isn't until Saturday. Why didn't I book the flight for friday night? Oh well, better cancel friday classes and set up on line alternatives.
Today: Ok, time to head out. Let me check the hotel information. Wait, my reservation isn't until friday. I need to book an extra night. Maybe I can change the flight instead. Oh hey, the flight isn't until tomorrow either!
I suppose I could un-cancel class tomorrow. But I won't.
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I don't know if this is particularly related to dating, though it kind of is, but someone sent it to me and it's disturbing and fascinating.* It relates to things living together, and something that people can get from dating related activities though!
Also this definitely unrelated link. It's been one of those days.
*"Well, we did some testing and it turns out you don't actually have cancer you just have hundreds of tapeworms ... and some of them are cancer."
60, 62: Just because she needs to "class up" is no reason to go 'round calling her a "common factor", jeeze.
62, 64: there are so many terrible reasons to be a Victorianist. Aaaand my last binge read was half a dozen C M Yonge novels.
I am impressed that the blog appears to have survived 46.
I love many things about the Victorians, or at least some of them, but their literature isn't high on the list. Perhaps Frowner's friend's friend is a student of Gilbert Scott or Joseph Paxton.
Barry @27: try the Berliner Ensemble canteen, under the rehearsal space to the right of the theater am Schiffbauerdamm itself, in the yard. It's open to the gen pop, but you pay a € or so more on everything than the staff. there are a couple of tables permanently reversed for actors and for stage hands (on the left, and ahead on the right as you go in). Pretty decent, cheap local cooking, good beer, full of stage people or just interesting weirdos, and the backstage prompts are plumbed into a tannoy speaker. So every now and then, there's an incomprehensibly accented announcement and someone dressed like Heinrich Heine going to a duel leaps up from their dinner and runs like hell through the kitchen to get on stage before they miss a cue. It's open basically all the time.
Thanks for the tip, Alex. I'll check it out.
This visiting-Berlin business sounds almost unbearably exciting. One for the memoirs, anyway.
74: What about Victorian children's lit? I grew up with a good deal of Mrs. Molesworth and Ruskin's fairy tales and so on. If she turns up with a Victorianist who can talk about The Six Poor Little Princesses and The King of the Golden River, I swear I'll steal him from her, even though I have nominally sworn off men and don't really want to date.
You could just swear off having solo possession of a man, as opposed to men altogether. The environmental impact of a man is so great that you're really helping the earth by sharing.
Each one is about 20 tons of carbon and I don't even want to know how much methane released into the atmosphere.
You can actually reduce the carbon footprint of a man by feeding him vegan food and carrying him around on your back rather then letting him drive around everywhere.
Men are like cats, except they can't lick themselves, and evolved digestive systems that require animal-based proteins in order to thrive.
Perhaps I will just let him fend for himself - if he can get scraps out of the garbage or catch mice in the backyard, surely that has a lower carbon footprint than sourcing and cooking vegan food.
The mice are fine but if you let him wander around other peoples' garbage cans, eventually the pound will catch and neuter him.
Isn't that best practice anyway? We wouldn't want lots of little Victorianists running around buying up all the vintage Mrs. Molesworth and driving prices through the roof, right?
You can't count on them to neuter by vasectomy instead of taking simpler action that might hurt the dating aspect of things.
83, 84: Then you could refer to him as your Carved Lion.