The Dating Game

By Victoria Zackheim

Many of my students struggle when asked to write a personal essay. And I understand. It’s not easy going from writing “she was not well liked” to “I couldn’t stand the bitch.” But if there is one irrefutable rule governing personal essay, it is that the truth prevails. One step away… and it’s fiction.

Which reminds me of the time my children urged me to try online dating. I was disinclined. Who had time? (Which is a great cop-out for you want me to do what!) I was writing, freelance editing, creating anthologies, teaching, grand-mothering. There was no room for the cyberworld of relationships.

I gave in.

This is where I point out that even the most forgettable (which makes them memorable, yes?) experiences are worthy of an essay. And as much as we’re tempted to dramatize these experiences by adding elements that are untrue, we must be honest. There seems to be a widespread belief that honesty is not only inconvenient, but disadvantageous. Whatever the prevailing beliefs, honesty is essential when writing an essay.

So, back to the computer and meeting the man of my dreams.

One very deep breath and I logged into a well-known, and what my children assured me was a reputable, dating site. I filled out the form—age, politics, education, likes, dislikes, level of religious commitment and/or observance. Everything was entered without prevarication. When asked what I wanted, I was very clear: politically liberal, not religious, a sense of humor, engaged in the arts. I wanted to add libidinous, but there was no place to make that prerequisite known.

And then I waited.

Within the week, I had four men asking to meet me.

And there my story begins.

Before I describe my encounters, I want to remind you that this is a writing blog. So, there will be lessons to be learned, and writing prompts to be honored, as I introduce you to four decent blokes, not one of them a serial killer.

Having said this…

Online Date #1: The founder of a magazine focused on liberal causes. We agreed on a local café. I was very nervous, and perhaps three pre-meeting shots of espresso didn’t help. He walked in, closely resembling the photograph he had posted. We chatted for a few minutes, all seemed to be going nicely. That is, until he stood. “Sorry, this isn’t going to work.” I was tempted to do one of those armpit-sniffing things common among teenage boys, but I resisted. “You’re too old,” he told me. I reminded him that I had given my correct age in my profile. He walked out. End of story.

Writing Prompt: Write about one of the most humiliating moments of your life. Don’t hold back.

Online Date #2: He lived in Marin County. According to his profile, he was mid-sixties. His photograph was pleasant, our interests quite similar. I had a meeting in Marin the following week, so we agreed to connect over lunch. It was a charming restaurant. I was early, and the only man seated alone was close to eighty. He waved. It was very sweet when he mentioned his mother… the first time. After Mother Mention #10, the alarm was clanging throughout my skull. He missed her, had always cherished her, his life was incomplete without her. Wait: and she had been dead for thirty years. I commiserated.  At the end of the meal, he asked when we could do this again.

Writing Prompt: Write about a time when you felt deceived. Or… lied your way out of a second date.

Online Date #3: He was nice, but intense. Late to fatherhood, he was raising his young son alone. His ex-wife had issues. His son suffered mental illness and required round-the-clock supervision. He was very honest. “Any woman who signs on has to provide all that my son needs.” He also informed me that whether it was casual dating or marriage, the boy would always be included. When we said our good-byes, we both knew there would be no second date.

Writing Prompt: Write about a time when you felt utterly selfish, unkind, and callous.

Online Date #4: His page said he was professional, divorced, no children, loved the outdoors, opera, reading, liberal politics, Jewish by birth but not observant, great sense of humor. What could go wrong? I arrived at the crowded café and commandeered a table. Rectangular, with a drop-down leaf that could be lowered to make it smaller. (NB: Never introduce a weapon, piece of furniture, etc., unless it’s germane to the story.) A man was seated at the next table, but made no eye contact. He was wearing one of those tight-fitting outfits worn by people who take cycling seriously. After five minutes, I said, “Excuse me, are you waiting for someone?” He said yes, and that he was quite certain I was his blind date. Strange. Passive aggressive? Shy? He joined me, explaining that he had taken BART to the city and biked to the café. Easy to believe; he reeked from sweat. I backed away. He countered by lowering the table’s leaf and announcing that he wanted to sit closer. Let me mention here: the dating site used first names only. Imagine my surprise when he announced, “I know who you are!” He had done an Internet search of Victoria/editor/San Francisco, had purchased my anthology, For Keeps: Women Tell the Truth About Their Bodies, Growing Older, and Acceptance, and couldn’t wait to discuss my essay describing my trauma of early menstruation.

Writing Prompt: Write about a time when you wanted to flee the scene, but remained long enough to pay for your coffee.

So, what is today’s writing lesson? It is that every incident and encounter, every object and smell/sound/taste is fodder for personal essay.

Don’t hold back. Write even your most intimate, horrifying, hysterical, even diabolic thoughts. And don’t be afraid. That’s what the Delete key is for!

Victoria Zackheim is the author of the novel, The Bone Weaver, and creator/editor of seven anthologies, including the international bestselling The Other Woman, that she adapted to theater and has been performed in several dozen theaters across the United States. She wrote the documentary Where Birds Never Sang: The Story of Ravensbrück and Sachsenhausen Concentration Camps, which aired nationwide on PBS. Zackheim is a playwright and screenwriter, with two plays and a feature film now in development. She teaches creative nonfiction in the UCLA Extension Writers’ Program and is a frequent conference speaker and writing instructor in the US and abroad. She lives in Northern California.

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