/ 9 July 2009

Love in a time of recession

After perusing the bar and realising that his prospects of meeting the man of his dreams or, at the very least, getting laid, were getting slimmer with every passing minute, my friend Patrick turned to me and, paraphrasing the title of Gabriel García Márquez’s classic novel, declared in a resigned tone: ”This is love in the time of recession.”

Never having grasped the concepts of either relationships or cash (I’ve failed to hold on to either), I must admit that this particular aspect of the global recession had never occurred to me. For Patrick, who has spent the past four years as well as a considerable amount of cash and energy on finding Mr Right, it was an ever-present reality.

”Oh honey, I’ve been through all types of men,” he admits. ”But the worst are the unemployed ones. You know, the ones who at first tell you that they run their own business, but end up sending countless ‘Please Call Me’ messages.”

Those with decent jobs are withdrawing from the dating scene because they can’t afford to fork out their hard-earned cash on a date that may prove to be yet another failed attempt at hooking up a relationship.

Mamela, a journalist with loads of sex appeal and an attitude to match, bemoans her lack of options. ”This economic recession has put my sex life in recession. I’m suddenly celibate and raging with lust. I am 30 and my V-jay is starting to cry out loud.”

Though she refuses to ”spend on first dates with broke-asses”, she does concede that if she deigned to do this she’d say: ”Oh, I’m not that hungry; big lunch. I’ll share something with you, though from the starters’ menu.” Forget speed dating, she says, this is snack dating. ”It’s a really a good thing journalism and the peanuts it pays prepared me for this, just think of those poor bankers.”

Poor bankers, indeed. But if the Dating a Banker Anonymous (Daba) website is to be believed, it’s not the bankers themselves but their poor, preening, Prada-clad girlfriends who are swallowing the larger chunk of the bitter pill that is recessionary cutbacks.

The site (dabagirls.wordpress.com) proudly proclaims that, if anyone dating a banker has suffered having her ”monthly Bergdorf’s allowance halved”, they are there ”to support her through these difficult times. Daba is a safe place where women can come together free from the scrutiny of feminists and share their tearful tales of how the mortgage meltdown has affected their relationships.”

One Daba blogger laments the fact that ”people just aren’t going out as much, so I’m not meeting as many guys as I did pre-recession, ergo less dates. Pre-recession I went on at least three dates a week. Are guys too stressed out to go on dates? Too busy? Too expensive? All of the above?”

The site is also filled with ”recession-friendly dating tips”, among them buying your own booze and exploring your city by strolling through its museums and public gardens. Do not think of these dates as ”affordable” but as ”thoughtful”, the site advises.

But what of those who aren’t as fortunate (and spoilt), such as those who find themselves plying their trade on the corner of Carnal and Cash streets? Naomi, an upmarket sex worker, confides that ”business is definitely not what it used to be.

Many of our regulars have simply stopped calling, which one can understand. But what is really frustrating, and happening more and more frequently, is clients coming in and expecting the same service in either half the time or for half the price.”

Someone vehemently opposed to the idea of paying for sex ­ or anything for that matter is Jean-Pierre, who maintains that, given the economic crisis, the cut-to-the-chase nature of internet dating is the simpler (read: more affordable) way of courting prospective suitors.

This option has given him more opportunities to partake in the pleasures of the flesh than Naomi probably will have in her entire life.

But it’s not all plain sailing. He is yet again attempting to post an honest (read: you will find me alluring) profile of himself on an internet dating site.

”Should I mention that he must have a job?” he asks (the very idea of appearing to be classist goes against his quasi-socialist leanings). The person he is about to meet has the profile name ”Hotbum69”, though, so I have to wonder whether it is the stability of employment or the firmness of a pert bottom that Jean-Pierre is really seeking in a prospective partner.

What to do then if you are still semi-cash-strapped, single and sexless in the city? I, for one, am thinking of forming my own movement and calling it Dating a Broke-Ass Anonymous. Feel free to mail me at [email protected]. Broke-asses need not bother.