- Sex & Drugs
- 14 Jun 16
First Dates offered a glimpse into the way people behave when they are looking for a romantic liaison - and maybe some sex into the bargain. But how different was the TV version from people's pursuit of a good time - and what does the history of dating tell us about how we view this ritual?
If First Dates taught me anything, it's this: I don't understand Irish people. Like, not at all. Okay, I admit it: First Dates is my guilty pleasure. Why? Reality TV seems to be almost wholly comprised of people being arseholes to one another - but First Dates is the opposite.
Sure, there is plenty of bad behaviour, misplaced entitlement and sheer oddness, as well as the classic line: "what's your favourite meme?". But if none of the couples got along - or went on to have relationships - the whole premise would fall apart and the show would be pointless.
Watching the British version, I am able to predict with a high degree of accuracy - around 90% - which couples fancy one another, who is after sex, and who is looking for love, but the Irish show left me scratching my head. Almost nobody behaved in a way I found predictable. Which was troubling, especially since I have a degree in psychology. Sigmund Freud supposedly said that the Irish were 'one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever.' I suspect he may have been right.
For a start, there were the numerous couples who were getting along great, but when the time came to decide on a second date, one of them inevitably declared that they'd rather be 'friends.' It wasn't just me who was stumped. More than a few of the daters seemed equally flabbergasted to hear there was 'no chemistry.' One woman seemed keen, telling the interviewer she'd see her date again and worrying if he fancied her. When he declared his interest, her response was 'Nah, nope and thanks.'
If these reluctant romantics were surprising, they were nothing compared to the far stranger set - the couples whose time together seemed as awkward and uncomfortable as a bladder infection, but who decided nonetheless that a second date was exactly what the doctor ordered? Were they just being polite? Do Irish people confuse excruciating embarrassment with attraction? Which, if so, may explain a lot of my romantic interactions.
Perhaps the most surprising aspect of First Dates is that the producers found anybody willing to give it a go. Dating is tricky most of the time and blind dates are even more so. It takes a hardy man or woman to date in front of the nation, especially as we are all going to be judging them on their attractiveness, personality, style and game. Talking of which - was it just me or did all the women have their make-up professionally done?
Part of the appeal of First Dates is schadenfreude. We love seeing other people suffer through socially uncomfortable situations, especially ones we've endured ourselves. The other, I suspect, is that in a world of Tinder messages and disposable romances, First Dates seems to hark back to a more innocent and traditional time.
Dating, however, was never really a genteel activity of dashing suitors and swooning ladies. Moira Weigel's book Labor of Love: The Invention of Dating is a social history of romance. Although Weigel concentrates on America, whose dating culture is different to Ireland, it makes for a fascinating read.
Dating was unknown until the early 20th century. As the world became increasingly industrialised, particularly after the First World War, women flocked to cities for work. Working class women lived in boarding houses, most of which barred male visitors, or in tenements with families. Privacy was difficult. Social life and courtship - once domestic affairs - became relegated to restaurants, dance halls, cinemas and parks.
Working class women toiled for long hours but were paid significantly less than men. Accepting a date was one way a woman could have fun without financial hardship. That doesn't mean that there were no costs. A woman who didn't date, had no chance of meeting eligible men; if she dated frequently she was seen as similar to a prostitute. The resultant damage to her reputation could make finding a husband impossible and relegate her to a life of loneliness, poverty and social marginalisation. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
Although dating doesn't have a long history many of its hidebound 'rules' are seen as traditional - most particularly that women should not ask men out. Men are the pursuers, women are the prey. A woman who asks a man out is seen as some kind of ball-breaking harridan upsetting the very laws of nature. Funnily enough, women had far more power to pursue the men they fancied during the 19th century. Gentlemen callers could not simply drop in to visit the young women they admired - a lady had to issue an invitation. To call without one would have been a breach of gendered social etiquette.
From the distance of the contemporary world, dating in previous decades may seem polite and even quaint. A man collected a woman at home, took her out, paid for a meal and dancing or the cinema, and if the date went well, he was rewarded with a goodnight kiss on the doorstep.
That picture of dating is one largely sold to us by Hollywood. Surprise, surprise - real life wasn't like that. Sexual assault was relatively common, consent was rarely discussed and often seen as dispensable; contraception was rarely available; teenage pregnancies were rife; and women had less ways of escaping a sexually aggressive - or plain old boring - date than we do now. All in all, it was a far cry from the rose-tinted image of young lovers sharing a milkshake.
Despite the risks, particularly for women, dating has always been afforded a certain amount of social cache. To date is to be desired, to be seen as a suitable sexual and romantic being. For young people, this may be its greatest attraction. Teenagers are rarely looking for life partners, and - for many - sex is less important than being sexually desired.
Dating is ostensibly a leisure activity, but it is one where you judge and are judged, and where the emotional labour and financial costs are obscured with a veil of 'romance.' Going out and meeting random people at bars and clubs is fun - sitting in a restaurant trying to sell yourself to a potential partner is not. The only reason we are willing to subject ourselves to it is the potential for sex - or if you are really lucky, love.
Most people date in the hope of finding someone lovely, so that they never have to sit through a nerve-wracking first date again. It's the aggravating but necessary step before you get to the good stuff: reading the papers together, cuddles, companionship - and regular sex with someone who finds you attractive in your track suit pants.