Open Writing

As I write this there is a ring-necked dove sunning itself in the Silver Birch tree at the bottom of the garden. It sits there most days from early morning until late afternoon, all alone despite there being a large flock of doves in the area.

It was part of a pair until one day last year a hawk swooped down and picked off its mate. If that was not trauma enough for the surviving dove, the hawk proceeded to devour its lunch on our neighbour’s lawn, leaving only a pile of scattered feathers, rather like discarded crusts at a children’s tea party. Since then the dove seems to prefer to fly solo and whilst not exactly tame, spends its time watching me as I watch it. (I have to say ‘it’ because I am no expert in ornithology and therefore I have no idea whether it is male or female)

And the reason for this sad little saga is? Well it struck me just how similar birds are to humans. Some mate for life and when one dies, remain aloof from the world around them forever, rather like our dove. Some stay sad for a while then go in search of another to share their nest. And some, seemingly unable to live life alone for very long, move on swiftly to find another companion.

This analogy was given extra weight recently with the screening of a programme called Silver Surfers. It highlighted how many people of more mature years are turning to internet dating. My own reaction to this revelation rather shocked me. I felt both sad and alarmed that with so much experience of life to draw on anyone over 60 needed to resort to the internet to find friendship, yet at the same time, I found the idea quite liberating and applauded those who have obviously embraced modern technology wholeheartedly.

Once in my dim and distant past while working on a regional newspaper, I was persuaded to sign up for a local Dating Agency as a ‘guinea pig’ for a feature. Around that time a national paper had carried the story of a wealthy young man who had advertised for a lady to share his dream holiday in Bermuda. My editor could see the potential for good headlines if I could come up trumps too.

Needless to say I didn’t. It was a nightmare. What I failed to realise was that not only were my details despatched to selected ‘suitables’ but so was my photograph. I had used a different name to hide my real identity but the pictured tallied nicely with the one heading my column in the paper and it didn’t take a genius to work out the truth!

Apart from much ribbing and sarcastic comments I also received a number of ‘enquiries’, none of which I took seriously. The idea for the feature was thankfully dropped but not before one ‘suitable’ – who turned out to be highly ‘unsuitable’ - refused to take no for an answer and had to be strongly reminded of what’s what. The whole episode served me right and I learnt to think a bit harder before volunteering for anything.

As I said, it’s all a long while ago and the world has moved on a pace since then. My daughters tell me it’s perfectly normal now to surf the net for Mr Right. “How else are girls of a certain age ever going to meet anyone” they say, “most are too busy building up their careers to have time for socialising. The Net cuts out the work.” At this point I hide my face in my hands and mutter ‘romance is dead’.

But according to statistics I am wrong. More and more people are finding Mr or Mrs Right by trawling through options on screen. I am assured that it is easy and safe if you stick to the rules. Among my daughters’ friends at least two partnerships are the result of the Net.

What I want to know is, does the chemistry still kick in – and at what point? I can remember the eyes across the room stuff that flipped my heart and sent it racing. Can the keyboard recreate that? Is the tapping out of messages in MSN the equivalent of hand holding, or the XXXXs that turn into flashing kisses compensation for the real thing?

We are living in the 21st century; technology is here to stay and infiltrating our lives in ever increasing ways. What is new today, if not entirely gone tomorrow, is seen as old hat. Is it possible that within a few years virtual marriage will become the norm and virtual offspring, selected according to preferred gender of course, entered at virtual conception for the equivalent of virtual Eton or Harrow?

The reality that this kind of existence is virtually upon us and will eventually turn us more into serfs to the Net than surfers, leaves me looking enviously at the dove sunning himself in the Silver Birch tree!

Mary Basham
March 2007