I Was a Video Date
By Bonnie Trachtenberg
Moving to Los Angeles was kind of like landing in Oz. Just like Dorothy, I observed that few things were what they seemed, enchantment and danger lurked around every corner, and people came and went so quickly!
But I was ready for adventure, and itching to exercise my inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of fame and fortune. Translation: I needed to "find myself." I was one of thousands who headed West with visions of Gidget surfing in their heads. But instead of Moondoggie and Kahuna, I stumbled upon a city of "transplants" - myriad strangers living amidst the palm trees, pretending not to be lonely - pretending not to need anything more than sunshine and a pair of in-line skates.
I, however, yearned for much more, and included in my quest for self-discovery was the all-important search for a mate. I convinced myself that I needed to take control. I could no longer drag my girlfriends out into the wild yonder nights, drifting from hot spot to hot spot, refusing to return to the emptiness of my unnatural habitat until I'd dispensed at least one promising phone number scrawled on the back of a cocktail napkin. For without at least that much, the evening would surely have to be branded a failure, and even worse - a waste of what could have been perfectly good grocery money.
I decided to empower myself. I wouldn't be at the mercy of my ex-boyfriend who, with the tiniest encouragement, could have me back in his clutches for the umpteenth sequel to our less than blockbuster relationship. I awoke one morning knowing I would resort to drastic measures that day.
I found myself in the lobby of one of the biggest dating services in LA. I figured I knew of at least one successful pairing for which they were responsible. My sister had actually married one of her video dates and was very happy. How bad could it be? An attractive, smiling salesman ushered me into his office and interviewed me about my expectations of the service.
Was I looking for a serious relationship? What type of man did I feel was right for me? Did I ultimately want marriage? And most importantly, could I afford their astronomical fee? After a few minutes of expert negotiations I was able to work out an amicable settlement, and consequently, add my name to the computerized list of hopeful romantics. I would need to fill out a detailed profile, have professional photos taken, and last, but hardly least, make a personalized video plea for dates.
"Okay," I said as I giggled out the front door, "but I have this sneaking feeling that the man of my dreams wouldn't be caught dead here." The front desk clerk smiled and assured me I was wrong. Well, this could be fun. While filling out the profile I could probably learn a few things about myself. Was I religious? Did I want children? Would I date a smoker? And was I geographically desirable? I could also learn what I truly wanted in my mate. How old should he be? Did I care if he was divorced? What hobbies should he have? And could he support me in a manner to which I would like to become accustomed? The possibilities were limitless.
I handed in my profile, four of my best photos, and showed up at my video recording session with a list of notes and as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
I was glad to see it would be conducted like an interview. All I had to do was smile, be pleasant, and answer a barrage of delving questions about my personal life and most romantic fantasies. Piece of cake.
Was I affectionate? Not excessively. What qualities would my ideal mate possess? Warmth, sensitivity, resemblance to Andy Garcia. Did I like to travel? No, I preferred to stare at the four walls of my studio apartment. What would I like to do on my most romantic date? Well, what did they think?
The interviewer told me she was sure I'd be very popular. I thanked her and went to the member library to begin my very own male order business.
It was time to look through the books, find someone whose picture appealed to me, read their profile, and if I was still interested, watch their video. Well, there was certainly no shortage of men, but then there is that quality over quantity consideration. I pondered from A to J that day and chose only one. The man had been a member for a while and I figured he would "know the ropes."
I submitted his name and went home. All he had to do was come in, check me out, say "yes" or God forbid "no" and I would have a date - or not. Simple. Of course the hardest part, as I would learn, would be waiting for the people I picked to have the time or inclination to come in and check their print out. I was told I'd have better luck with the newer members. My guess was they hadn't become bored or jaded by the process yet. My guess was right.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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