Andrew Miller: Navigating the modern world of dating with Romeo and Juliet

Wanna hear a classic love story? Of course you do.

Act 1

Boy meets girl. See the many ways I went wrong there, right off the bat? Let’s try again.

Person meets person? We could de-risk it a bit further.

Consenting adults meet.

“Stop being so woke,” they groan “it makes everything boring. You can’t say anything these days without offending someone.”

To be honest, I could reply “but your experience and preferred language isn’t the centre of the universe. It comes across as privileged and exclusionary and diverse people shouldn’t have to meekly tolerate that nowadays.”

However, consequent upon my empathy training, I will instead invoke the bard. Who are the Montagues to say that a Capulet may not be included in a love story? Wasn’t pointless prejudice the woeful theme of Romeo and Juliet, 300 years before romanticism came to dominate the arts? Love is love; inclusion is fair.

Are you young enough to spot the other problem with “boy meets girl”?

Consenting adults match online.

It’s uncommon for people to meet de novo any more - unguarded pheromones and all - without a modern match-maker app in their pocket, channelling crones of yore to screen potential mates.

Act 2

Juliet flustered in, quite late to the pizza place; Romeo had almost finished his beer in waiting. We did not avoid watching the awkward alfresco self-introductions. The down-away glances, as harsh reality was found wanting, as up against profile selfies taken in but-softer light. Never schedule a dating-app introduction during daylight, surrounded by voyeurs.

There are professional curation services, who for your thousand dollars will produce best-light studio photographs - propped with cute dogs or palm-frond eyelashes. They will even edit your online profile blurb, though most research suggests it will remain unread. While a few users might scan your puffery for red flags of fascism or paranoia, most rely on deceitful pictures. Abs are currency; kindness and values remain obscure.

They sat on the same side of the table, hiding their baggage, breaking awkward pauses with a discussion of sin - pineapple on pizza - “yeah, nah” - and numerous redundant phone checks. It was a count down the clock situation. How long can one pizza take?

They walked, out of sync, past our table toward the corner. Juliet asked which direction his car was parked. It was as certain as the setting sun that hers was going to be the other way, no matter where he pointed.

Non-combatants cannot comprehend the surgical brutality of rejection in the online dating arena.

When un-meeting people you never want to sleep with again - or much worse talk to - ghosting comes in handy, but blocking contact without explanation creates small heart injuries for those left wondering, rather than relieved.

Act 3

The star-crossed lovers are gone, but we find each other still there. We check our phones and discuss how much longer our pizza will take. The distraction of their disastrous first date was like glancing into a modern abyss. Our own drawbacks are well familiar, like cracks on an oil painting.

Many of those in the dating game are having a rough time of being commoditised. Those of us in the couples’ game face longer haul challenges.

It’s hard to get a break from the routine and kid, just to talk about same. To perhaps wrongly feel better by observing a slow-motion crash of the hopefuls at the next table. To be made grateful again for familiar baggage.

Unlike Romeo, I am alive long enough to realise that stillness, a bias toward appreciation rather than impulsive action, ends in tragic farce and pain for innocent parties less often. I know enough to rest and let contentment find me now.

As we watch the sun surrender to the boundless sea, our hands find each other across the table; “the more I give to thee, the more I have.”