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Is your gut feeling "telling" you that your current partner is not honest with you and he or she is spending too much time browsing the internet?I still remember getting looks of horror the first time I told someone I was trying “online dating.” They just assumed they’d read about me dead in a newspaper within the month. Online dating is a giant pool of people, there are literally millions of individuals involved. Do we really think that “matching” with one of them carries any real potential for attraction? He looked good in his groomsman suit and I wore a very low cut dress in two of my pictures. We wouldn’t dare take away the phones of Generation Z just as they start to date, the poor things would be terrified. I looked to the future and and journeyed in that general direction and then arrived someplace completely different. And a 19-year-old learning these things and making her mistakes has a lot more time to make mistakes than someone who is 34. Because nobody likes fruitless effort without some kind of cause or lesson learned. It won’t happen naturally, we’re not in friend circles where we’d see each other at a BBQ by accident a week later, as a pleasant surprise. Not only have I met them in person, but I haven’t lifted a finger. I was born in the very early 80s and if you need a unifying identifier that gathers us in unbreakable, non-millennial stature, here it is: We remember being teenagers without the internet, and we remember being teenagers, with it. We remember when MTV’s is more movie than SNL sketch. If you were old enough to be dating in the 90s, there were phone calls and answering machine messages and blind dates and a sense that if you met someone, you should ask them out, rather than settling into some sense of creepy comfort that you could stalk them on Instagram later. Those were the items written into television and movies being played out by older siblings and cousins. What’s going to happen is that it’s going to fizzle out. If a man is interested in me, he will make it clear, and if I am interested back, there will be a wonderful connection, a new person in my life. The forgotten, early 80s-born, un-entitled children of technology’s greatest crossover. Most of our sexually formative years involved in-person activity, but don’t think we weren’t on the front lines of the first chatrooms in existence dabbling in what you now call sexting, apparently an entirely normal part of the current dating process even though you conveniently leave it out when you tell stories about the new guy you’re seeing to your companions at brunch. No smartphones, no face swiping apps allowing us to thumb through pictures of human beings like shirts on a clothing rack at Marshall’s. When I lived under my mother’s roof, I could not call a person with a penis. No, we have to meet, spend a brief time conversing, and in that time develop enough interest on both sides of the table the one of us is going to make effort to ask the other out again, and that person is going to say yes. “He saw her from across the room…” that old chestnut, has proven true for me, every time.