NO, REALLY, WE'RE JUST FRIENDS

Every year, particularly during the holiday season, several acquaintances seem to feel the need to "fix me up" with someone. I can almost hear the inevitable tongue-clicking from well-meaning people who assume that, because I've been partner-less for some years now, I'm lonely. Anyone who's widowed knows precisely what I'm talking about; the sad gaze from people who hear you've lost a spouse who assume you're in a perpetual state of grief and therefore require a replacement mate as soon as possible. As annoying as their presumption can be, I really can't fault them; I'm sure their well-intentioned reaction is based on how they would react themselves in my situation, but they obviously don't know me well. If they did know me well, they'd know that I have an active social life, with plenty of friends for company.

One of my favorite friends is a man who I will call Richard, which is a good idea because that happens to be his name. Richard is great fun to be around, intelligent, witty, thoughtful and an all-around gentlemen. He is also tall, lithe, non-gay and extremely handsome, which is a positive bonus for my ego, and means I don't have to wear flats whenever we're out together. Let's face it, we're a stunning pair, Richard and I. It's a convenient arrangement as well; we're not a couple but we go to social functions together from time-to-time. We interact well with each others friends, enjoy many of the same activities and at the end of an evening, we're off to our respective homes in good spirits with a friendly peck on the cheek serving as a goodnight kiss.

Where the arrangement gets awkward however, is that sooner or later the question of our relationship status pops up somewhere in conversation and it's a tricky question to answer. As we've found from experience, there seem to be a lot of folk out there who don't believe that men and women can simply be friends. At least, we assume that's what it must be, because our standard answer to the relationship question, "we're not a couple", usually produces one of three looks; awkward glances from real couples, looks of confusion from men (as in, "are you gay?) and from the ladies, hope-filled smiles at Richard, and what they're actually thinking, I can probably guess.

In truth, it's not difficult to be close friends with a member of the opposite sex but the key component is that you cannot enter into such a friendship with the expectation of something more, and Richard and I don't have those expectations. Surely, if he was looking for romance, he could find it practically...well, anywhere, based on the amount of female attention he gets, and I could have my share of admirers as well provided I ever saw fit get up off the sofa. But for us at least, at this time in our lives, its much nicer to have the friendship of someone of the opposite sex without any of the pressure but with (almost) all of the benefits, namely companionship, caring, someone to do emergency repairs about the house (him), and someone to cook (me). Richard's simple explanation for me is "she's just like a 'mate', except better looking", and I simply say "he's my friend", and that's a basic enough explanation for anyone to understand. Can a personal relationship like this stand the test of time? If we're honest it will, of necessity change if or when either of us finds true love (whatever that mean) but for now, it's a perfectly satisfactory arrangement that I encourage anyone to try.

Now, I'm sure some readers, particularly the women-folk are asking, "wouldn't you like to be involved with this man?", and my answer is that I already am, but I'm practically certain to become more involved would probably lead to the end of a beautiful friendship.

E-COMPATIBILITY = INCOMPATIBILITY

If you watch any amount of cable television during the course of a week, you've seen this ad: couples lovingly talk about how an on-line dating site brought them happiness beyond their wildest dreams and only through the thoroughness of the on-line questionnaire were they able to find true compatibility. I won't say the name of the site, but it starts with 'e" and ends with "h-a-r-m-o-n-y".

I'm very happy for the people I see in the ads. They seem to enjoy each other and believe in the service they were provided and in fairness they are compatible; each couple seems to have a desperate need to be on television.

I'm not convinced with the service though. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, but I believe that the process of personal discovery plays a large role in the establishment of a long-term relationship; getting to know each others personality and strengths while exercising tolerance with what you may find annoying is part of the whole "relationship" package. As an added bonus, it's just plain fun. So, where's the fun in finding that out by taking the equivalent of an SAT? It's definitely not of interest to me, but in fairness to That Site and, if I'm honest my own curiosity, I decided I needed to find out what's what by going through the application process myself.

I registered on the site, and I am now a 55 year old male from California called Robert. The lengthly questionnaire starts with the most basic information; how much money I make, what's my religious belief, and the all-important description of my appearance. Fortunately, the questions are gender non-specific, so I didn't have to fib. You are also asked to fill out your criteria for the wealth, religion and appearance of your future partner. Once that's done, the real fun begins because you are met with page after page after page of required information divided into the categories of Self Description, Personal Characteristics, Relationships and Values, Important Qualities in a Partner, Personal Interests, Basic Living Skills and Basic Matching Information. Some questions are answered either True or False, but the majority of information is answered by degrees graduating from "Strongly Agree" to "Strongly Disagree". It's nothing if not thorough and because there are over ten pages of information to be completed I won't go into detail about what's asked; after all, I'm doing this so you don't have to. I can tell you one of my favorites was "I waste my time". I answered "Strongly Disagree" and fortunately my boss didn't see what I was up to and strongly disagree with me. After that process is completed there are quite a few essay-type questions, and the answers supplied show up verbatim in your profile in the event your future partner wants to check you for spelling and grammar I suppose. Once the essay portion is completed, there's the matter of reviewing the five page, small-print Terms of Service Agreement, then deciding which "Subscription Plan" you want. Depending on the length of subscription, the price can range from $23.95-$44.95 per month, but, shamefully, the network went down before I could complete my payment.

The entire process was so mind-numbingly tedious, I think I would have preferred to transcribe the O.J. Simpson Trial. Nevertheless, as not to corrupt the results, "Robert" answered all of the questions with a reasonable degree of honesty and effort, and according to the eight-page profile created for him in only two hours based on my answers, he's really a nice guy. He is described as sensitive, responsible, democratic, contemplative, fair, proper, self-aware, accepting, rational, witty, charming, passionate, diplomatic, able to cope, receptive, reliable, organized, dependable, genuine, amiable, relaxed, poised, temperate, solid and laid-back. Face it ladies, he's quite a catch.

I'm still not convinced though. I truly believe that attraction is a chemical reaction based on the five senses, and in the "courting" process, you discover the rest. In contrast, e-compatibility is an academic exercise, as refreshing as stale beer, and not altogether reliable. Look at the case of "Robert"; no matter how much Joan in El Segundo or Sara in West Hollywood ** are convinced of their compatibility with him, they still don't know "he" is in reality, me.

**Since I didn't complete the payment process, no females were harmed in the writing of this column.