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美丽的公主困在 由龙守卫的 高高的塔楼上
A fair princess atop a high tower guarded by a dragon,
our hero — a knight driven by eternal love
— must overcome perilous obstacles in order to save her.
Traditional conversations about love tend to
focus on courtly love, chivalry,
或者聚焦于情爱 性爱 友爱等哲学术语
or philosophical terms like agape, eros, or philia.
But, in the world of online dating apps
like Tinder, Hinge, and Happn,
are these visions of love even possible?
With one billion swipes a day and
over twelve billion matches in the Tinder-verse,
you’d think people wouldn’t still be asking the question — where’s the love?
According to Philosophy Professor Richard Kearney,
we may be living in “an age of excarnation” —
where digital media creates an atmosphere
where we “obsess about the body in increasingly disembodied ways.”
Essentially, the problem with dating sites like Match.com and eHarmony is that
they are centered on digital avatars —
representations of reality that are removed from the actual corporal body.
Gone are the awkward interactions
like pick-up lines, catcalls,
and terrible mini golf dates.
Instead, dates are pre-arranged, based on an algorithm.
Kearney argues that in the extreme,
what we have is a love absent an actual person —
where we become attracted to the simulation of a person,
kind of like the movie “Her.”
“You’re dating your computer?”
The idea behind apps like Tinder aren’t radically new —
they don’t differ that much from a letter passed around in grade school.
The difference is that instead of sending out one note,
on dating sites people send out thousands of them.
And on Tinder, you can’t see them scoff
and then crumple up said note.
Instead, people swipe and wait for a match.
There is no need to be physically present for rejection.
It’s zero-risk matchmaking.
Not having to wait for a person to call you back isn’t just a convenience —
it also removes the element of vulnerability from the dating equation.
In his book, “In Praise of Love,” French theorist Alain
Badiou argues that the problem with online dating apps
is that they represent a risk-free love —
a love that is removed from any possible rejection.
Not only are people extracted from the physical presence of rejection,
but there’s also the belief that people can precondition love.
One can filter out any unwanted traits.
People are free, in advance, to only interact with people
of a certain age, political affiliation,
that have a certain food preference, hair color,
prefer a particular video game console,
or have the correct favorite television show.
It’s sort of the weird science approach to love,
where you construct your ideal mate before you ever meet.
It screens out chance and randomness —
there is no possibility of lovers who come from different worlds,
or people that work through their respective differences.
In the Tinder-verse, John Hughes,
不存在约翰•休斯 小弗雷迪•普林斯 帕特里•克丹普西等人电影里的桥段
Freddie Prince Junior, or Patrick Dempsey movies don’t have a point of reference.
There is no jock that falls in love with the
socially conscious art-school girl with hidden beauty.
That all gets weeded out in advance.
“Is that good or bad?”
It means that people tend to interact narcissistically —
they swipe based on their own preconceived idea about
which type of person they want to be with.
Instead of being impacted by another person,
narcissistic interactions are more fixated on the love of the self —
on finding yourself in the other.
What is erased is difference.
There isn’t an acceptance of the ways that people are different from you —
there isn’t love between two —
it is a love with the self and a fictitiously-constructed other
that erases any unwanted messiness or baggage.
For Badiou, love is “like two musical instruments
that are completely different in tone and volume,
but which mysteriously converge when unified
by a great musician in the same work.”
Love isn’t about being sure of what you want in another person —
it’s about the radical possibility that you don’t know what you want —
and being open to the possibility of being changed by another person.
But is that so bad?
To be fair,
the idea that everyone should be waiting for the Shakespearean
star-crossed lover out there is idealistic and romantic at best.
As with any technology,
dating apps are as good as the people that use them.
They are only obstacles to love if people treat them
like tools to exclude anything that challenges their notion of self.
And, it would be unwise to reduce love to
the way you meet a person.
Love is curated, percolated,
即使在那些矛盾 艰难 痛苦的日子里它也不退半步
and it persists in moments of contradiction, hardship, and torment.
It is arduous work that endures regardless
of differences and ever-present obstacles.
So, dear viewer, what do you think?
Have you been looking for love in all the wrong places?
Or are you one perfectly-angled selfie away from finding your one, true sweetheart?