By Billy Bautista
We now live in an age where communication is as instant as sexual gratification. Emojis alone are statistically responsible for half of the online hookups that transpire everyday. A combination of social media evolving into the robust intertwined network of both third cousins and the waitress you tongued from IHOP has put us all in a habit of relying on our smartphones to connect us to anything and anyone quickly. Be it answers to trivia, directions to a motel 6 in Fresno, or what kind of meat selection do I have within a five mile radius, Tinder? Swipe. 2015 means access. To information. To profiles.
Welcome to Instagram. It’s your phone. Showing you hundreds of thousands of strangers that you might never meet. Or can you? Since this is an exposé write up of sorts, I don’t mind sharing data for the common good. I’ve dated a dozen or so women from Instagram..in 2015.. This month…
Therein lies the problem. Like anything fed without regard or limits, ease of access allows us to be spoiled. I consider myself a gentleman and raised accordingly. Growing up with both catholic and Spanish roots albeit in an Asian island means being infused with every flavor of expectation a man should have when it comes to traditional courting. And while I’m not out to trade a flock of sheep for a lady’s hand in marriage, I can at least say that my mother raised a nice boy and my father raised a good man. Integrate that with a visual output – a channel where your audience gets a constant view of your assets, your gentleman traits, and alluring photos of a fast paced life in far off places, Instagram suddenly becomes a version of eBay for the dating community where likes and comments become bids for tonight’s man of the hour.
The same goes for women. In a visual world, our eyes speak our minds and translate our appetites. So is it obvious why hot girls on Instagram have a shit ton of followers?! There is no room for judgment though. Even your average television viewer is guilty of the same habits. We watch what we want. We eat what we want. We date who we want. We do what we want. We are the world’s bastion for selfless pursuits and excess everything. We are the pillars of lust and trendsetters in desire. We are sexy pizza eaters with flawless selfies…at the right angle. We are our car, our tragic hairstyles, our job, our entourage, or whatever aspect of our lives we choose to glorify on the internet. If your dating life can be googled with a single hashtag, maybe it’s time to retreat to the Midwest and just get back to girls that want you because you’re a good Cali dude. Ahem *self advice*
It’s a plethora of things. Excuses that is. For why my dating life can be considered both a seriously grand success and epic fail. My standards are somewhat flawed but I’m also super jaded. I know by the first date if I hate someone. The irony of that is you can’t really know love till you know hate (more on that later, young padawans). My profession allows for too much travel and being constantly surrounded by beautiful women. I’m lucky. But dating is hard. Like I said, it goes both ways. I never know who to trust. Who wants to date me and why. That’s just the frosting layer of my issues cake. Ladies have it harder I think. Kind of a cruel cycle if you ask me. Guys will go to what they’re attracted to. Most ladies usually meet creepers both on and offline as their creeper agendas are usually penis to vag related. It’s a sick game really. But this is who we are and what we’ve become. Like my status. Poke my face. Sext me. Facetime me naked. Wash, rinse, repeat. Might as well be good at it. Which reminds me, I totally DM’d this chick a selfie and an eggplant emoji. Looks like another night of #billyproblems #netflixandchill #datenight #TARYNDOWNMYBALLS