Whites Prefer Dating Whites Online

U.S. whites prefer to date members of their own race, while blacks are more likely to cross the racial barrier to find romance, researchers suggest.

Researchers at the University of California, Berkeley, analyzed the racial preferences and online activity of 1 million profiles of U.S. singles looking for love online at a major Internet dating service from 2009 to 2010.

The online dating service asked subscribers if they wanted to date only within their race, or if they preferred someone outside their race, or if they were open to dating someone of any race.

Lead author Gerald Mendelsohn and colleagues say they compared the online daters’ stated preferences with the people they actually contacted.

“Those who said they were indifferent to the race of a partner were most likely to be young, male and black,” Mendelsohn says in a statement.

“Whites more than blacks, women more than men and old more than young participants stated a preference for a partner of the same race.”

More than 80 percent of the whites contacted whites and fewer than 5 percent contacted blacks — a disparity that held for young and older participants.

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Has Facebook Changed the Dating World?

In a society that is driven by gadgets, money and social networking sites, it is no wonder that Facebook has become a part of everyday life. The ability to share news and photographs at the click of a button from the comfort of your own home is certainly appealing. Sure, Facebook makes communicating easy and sure, Facebook allows you to stay in touch with people you would otherwise never see, but using these sites to date over the internet? Is that really what the world has come to? Gone are the days where one had to actually drive to someone’s house and knock on their front door if they wanted to see them.

Technology, including Facebook, has made us lazy and stolen our social skills. It is so easy to make a flippant request over the net when you’re not talking to someone face-to-face; heaven forbid if we actually had to pick up a landline phone to ask someone to the movies so that they could hear the sincerity, or lack of it, in our voice. Social networking sites such as Facebook have made it too easy to organise dates with people that we know, and people we don’t. Honestly, how well can you know someone that you meet over the internet? So what if they’ve made a couple of jokes, made you laugh and seem genuinely nice? A lecherous old man could be sitting behind the computer screen!

What we also need to realise is that the internet gives people fake courage. Some people might be able to ask their monitor out for dinner, but if it came to asking you out to your face, they would most probably flee. As a seventeen year-old female, I can honestly say I’ve seen my fair share of dates organised through technology. Sadly, the majority of these dates end the same way. Through an e-mail, an SMS, or simply a line on your Facebook wall where it is visible to everyone.

The teenagers of today have become cowardly, and when I say teenagers, I mean both male and females. People who wouldn’t normally talk are communicating online, and what good is it doing? Does this mean the relationship will remain solely online or via mobile phones? If you’ve never spoken a word to their face before, what happens when you see them down the street? They might be you’re number one friend online, but what do you say when you actually see them? To me, these unexpected, casual meetings in real life will be, at the minimum, extremely awkward.

And no, I’m not being naA?ve or narrow-minded. I’ve heard the love stories where the average, single girl meets her prince charming online and they live happily ever after. I’ve heard the people who claim they would never have met their soul mates had Facebook not been created. I know their stories, but how often does this actually happen? We all know the answer. Not much. Not much at all. Out of all the Facebook members and people who have a social networking account, these fairytales occur maybe one in a million cases, maybe less. Either way, the badly ended relationships far outweigh these magic, romantic stories.

Facebook is a great way to communicate; I honestly believe that. But when dating is involved, a little, old-fashioned bravery in terms of face-to-face communication would not go astray. I mean, really, how can you honestly know who you are talking to online? You can’t truly know a person simply from interacting with them online, not even in this day and age. We’re all waiting for our fairytale. We all want our very own happy ending. But Prince Charming, if you really are out there, please just give me a call. I’d rather hear you’re voice.

Single And Dating In My 40s

By Ele Pawelski

Single and 40, I moved back to Toronto after a decade of working on human-rights projects in developing countries. I was ready to settle down and find a soulmate, preferably one who liked to travel and could locate Afghanistan on a map.

Dating in my 40s was not going to be like dating in my 20s. I was wiser, more confident and knew myself better. On the flip side, the unromantic conditions of my overseas life had caused severe loss of dating know-how.

“What’s dating again?” I quizzed friends.

Right, a leisurely activity where you chat with someone over a drink or a meal to discern whether an intimate long-term relationship is possible. Conversation should be relaxed and flow without awkward silences. If you find the person attractive, interesting and fun, you arrange to meet again. I could do this.

My reintroduction to dating in Toronto was set to happen at a hip downtown bar with a couple of friends. I donned a pair of jeans, a stylish top, some lipstick. Memories of university romances danced in my head as I practised flirting in the mirror while holding a glass of wine. This became known as Plan A.

OMG. Not only were all the patrons under 30, but the women were dressed in sexy outfits I would never wear. Predictably, no one noticed us except the bartender. While we were discussing our next move, music suddenly started blaring so loudly it killed the conversation. We bailed. Our trio of not-wanting-to-be-cougars raced back to my place and my stockpile of red wine. It was 10 p.m.

Plan B: Sign up for an evening of speed dating.

Three-minute conversations are incredibly short. Once you’ve found out each other’s professions and hobbies, likes and dislikes, it’s already time to move on. There’s barely enough time to jot down a name, let alone envision holding hands on a moonlit beach. At the end of the evening, the faces and conversations blurred together; not a single guy stood out as someone to see again.

Plan C: Meet a guy at a class or a sports league. Meeting men through mutual friends was no longer possible, as none knew any single and dateable guys. So I joined a beach volleyball group. Sundays that summer became a joyous mix of sand, sun and beer. And I met someone.

We dated for six weeks before I broke it off. To me, that seemed equivalent to six months in single-and-fortysomething years.

Encouraged by such a long relationship, I grew bolder. Conversations with other singles netted valuable information about meeting mates online. I was amazed at how quickly and openly they broached the topic of Internet dating: “Hi, so which sites are you on? How are they?”

Still, I was skeptical. Dating online screamed, “I am an old-fashioned dimwit that’s completely unable to meet and/or converse with potential mates.” But single friends eventually convinced me that online dating was the most straightforward way to find a partner once you’re out of school.

Plan D: Create a savvy Internet persona and nickname.

At first, I scoured each profile and crafted individualized messages. About eight dates in, I got my groove and began to send more messages with fewer words. I started dating up a storm, sometimes two a night back to back.

The guys were entertaining, the restaurants nice, the conversations fun, but disappointingly there were no real sparks. None turned out to be the optimistic, self-assured traveller I was looking for. My approach needed a change. Instead of a restaurant, perhaps an activity would give me more insight into his personality and possible shared interests.

So my next date unfolded at a photography shoot for a band. He took photos with a passion that was endearing. Photography, which we both enjoyed, was also a good focus for our conversation. Sharing the same sense of humour, we laughed and talked into the wee hours of the night. Parting, we set up a second date for the coming weekend.

On Saturday at my place, two coffees were steaming on the table as soft music played in the background. According to my research, the second date was when you delved into your potential partner’s past to suss out any family skeletons or Ponzi scheming. I wanted to be in comfortable surroundings in case of an unpleasant secret.

In this intimate setting, we each shared our biggest life challenge. His was an unfinalized divorce, mine a new career path but no actual job. Mulling it over, we concluded our baggage was manageable in the bigger scheme. After all, dating in your 40s is not a fairy tale. But was the chemistry from the first night still there?

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Butterflies in my stomach, I nodded ecstatically. It was a supreme Bridget Jones moment, and revealed that some aspects of dating remain the same at any age. This was a guy worth pursuing.

My final tally: an awkward bar night, a speed-dating adventure, a summer fling and 19 decent Internet dates to find one terrific soulmate. Not bad.

It was at times exhilarating, at times overwhelming, at times disheartening, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Opening up to new methods of dating, while remaining true to myself about the type of guy I wanted to meet, was part of the experience.

A year and a bit later we’re still together. Fingers crossed.

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