Facebook ruined my love life

I fell in love over Facebook chat. His spelling and grammar were impeccable. He was well-read and profound. His profile picture was somehow both goofy and sexy.

It's far easier to be charming over the Web than it is over coffee. As a writer, I am wittier, more articulate and more likable in text format. And, as an editor, I relished re-reading my half of the banter before submitting it into the dialogue box and into the mind of the man on the other end.

Innumerable five-hour chats constituted the most engaging, cheapest and successful dates to which I'd ever been exposed. I don't know about you, but I never feel sexier than when I'm alone in my room in my man sweats with a family-sized bag of BBQ Lays in my lap. Or when, in the middle of an e-date, my mother suddenly pops up: "Did you remember to pick up toilet paper?"

As our e-lationship blossomed, I conceived of elaborate daydreams in which he formally met my friends, parents, grandparents, second cousins and co-workers. This would be the step after the one in which he formally met me. He was an acquaintance: a friend of a friend.

It seems to be a rather ubiquitous contention that Facebook has changed the college dating scene. Or rather, it has made the practice almost obsolete. ABC News, The Huffington Post, Newsweek and The New York Times have featured abstract articles similar to this one on the subject.

The trend isn't exclusive to American youth either. Our friends across the pond, according to The Telegraph, are also seeking love online. One in four Brits are dating or have dated someone they met on a social networking site. One in 10 has "knackered" or "shagged" this new friend. Granted, the Brits are far more liberal when it comes to love, but I feel we can draw a close comparison. If you disagree, you're probably a "wanker."

The general consensus seems to be, why stumble through the customary dinner and a movie when you can glean more information from a profile page? Without ever having an actual conversation, I can learn about his "faves" and what his dad looks like, and therefore, that in a decade or two this guy will most likely be completely bald. You can't get that kind of invasive information from your typical dating site.

The days of eHarmony and JDate are over. These archaic matchmakers are lacking several of the most essential elements incorporated by Facebook that make it a predator's delight. Here, I reserve the right to view unflattering tagged photos and stalk his friends. Upon examining a profile, I lose interest in anyone under six feet, over 30, those who fail the "there, their, they're" test and the ones who play Farmville. My generation has to agonize over finding a man who's not just good on paper, but good online.

Apparently, the old-fashioned singles sites now incorporate blogs, Webcams and instant messaging in order to compete with Facebook flirtations. But the almighty Facebook can't be bested. If e-macking on your cousin's friend's brother isn't your thing, independent Internet dating services have united with Facebook to expand the pool of people you don't know online. Eight million Facebook users log on to the Zoosk application monthly, which enables them to meet single people in their area.

My problem isn't meeting people on the Web. I've had that skill mastered since Myspace. My difficulty is that, after scrutinizing Mr. Potential online, I lose the ability to connect in person. The best and most absurd advice I received to avoid discomfiture face-to-face was to envision a keyboard at my fingertips. Whatever happened to "just be yourself"?

Absorbed in my computer courtship, I was convinced that Grammar God and I were going to spend the rest of our lives together. In reality, our personalities weren't nearly as compatible as our online personas. Now I'm performing a manual search for a guy who's willing to go offline.