November 18, 2003

Be Happy. Be Very Happy.

Warm gun? Warm puppy? Tough choices

by Ian Shoales

The New York Times brings alarming news from the academic front ("The Futile Pursuit of Happiness," Sept. 7, 2003). A group of psychologists and economists are examining the problem of happiness.

Happiness Is...?

We know what makes us happy, it seems, but "falter when it comes to imagining how we will feel about something in the future." A new car makes us happy. But it "will almost certainly be less exciting than we anticipated; nor will it excite us for as long as predicted."

Many of us felt this firsthand when we saw Matrix Reloaded, of course. As a matter of fact, outside of an ice cold beer on a hot summer day, not much of anything is what it's cracked up to be. I could have told the professors that.

One researcher, Daniel Gilbert, professor of psychology at Harvard University, told the Times, "The Stones said, 'You can't always get what you want.' I don't think that's the problem. The problem is you can't always know what you want."

Are You My Soul Mate?

But the Wall Street Journal ("Sorry, You're Nobody's Type," July 20, 2003) informed me that the online dating scene knows exactly what it wants, and it might not be you.

I'd assumed that dating sites welcomed anybody with a credit card and desperate longing. But one Nik Bosyk, after taking the compulsory 45-minute personality test at eHarmony.com, was rejected. Rejected by the Internet? Mr. Bosyk wondered, according to the WSJ, "Is that even possible?"

Not only possible, it's a grim reality. And eHarmony isn't alone.

TheSquare.com demands that its members have a degree from "an elite college," and you must provide transcripts to prove it. Match.com has a personality test that "includes brutally frank assessments," even listing the applicant's "quirks" that might leave you potentially dateless.

Friendster.com, the hipster's favorite dating site, won't let you in without an invitation from a member. According to the SF Weekly, however, Friendster.com has been having its own unique problems: "fakesters." The site, started by a man named Jonathan Abrams, was intended as a place for people with mutual interests to find each other, preferably people who know each other in the real world. It has a strict policy: "You must agree to be yourself in your profile" ("Attack of the Smartasses," Aug. 13, 2003).

A bunch of members willfully violate this policy, giving themselves names like Retarded Raver, Pure Evil, and God Almighty. Many have joined what they call a "Borg Collective," determined to evade the site's censors and change its policies.

One fakester, who calls himself "Roy Batty," after the replicant leader in Blade Runner, told the Weekly that he uses a fake identity on Friendster.com because "Identity is provisional. It's fluid."

That's not much of a pickup line, in my opinion, but then again, if "Roy Batty" believes that who he is changes from moment to moment, then he not only can't know what he wants (like a date), he can't even know for sure who the "he" is who is wanting.

Temporary ID

Well, this kind of thinking makes the provisional "I" of me reach for the Tylenol. Happiness is provisional? Identity is provisional? If word gets out, nobody will ever date again — at least not without first administering the Voight-Kampf empathy test (again, see Blade Runner for details).

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