COLUMN: Matchmaking, ENIA style

From Ariel Horn's, "Candy from a Stranger," Fall '99 From Ariel Horn's, "Candy from a Stranger," Fall '99I am a product of modern technology. My parents met through computer dating at Penn in the 1960s. It all began when my mother -- a Penn undergrad at the time -- picked up a free promotional questionnaire provided by "Operation Match" on a table in the lobby of Hill House. It seemed like a great way to solve the problem of finding someone for yourself -- have a computer do it for you. At the time, it was even considered cool. Several weeks later, my mother received a letter in her mailbox from the ENIAC computer dating program. Sure enough, several strapping young Philadelphia men were lucky enough to be matched with my mother, including a Temple student who would eventually become my father. Today, computer dating is a stigmatized vehicle for dorks. No longer does ENIAC promise to arrange our love lives -- instead we struggle through Penn InTouch, which, sadly, does not yet include "People I'd Like to Date" underneath the Registration and Transcript options. But not much else has changed. Students on Penn's campus still participate most actively in the archaic but traditional student-meets-student, student-and-student-are-attracted-to-one-another, student-and-student-embark-on-serious-relationship or student-and- student-enjoy-one-night-hookup-only-to-see-each-other-the-next-day-and-never-speak-to-each-other-again. Ah, Penn. Where a young person's fancy turns to lust. However, not everyone at Penn is seeking to sate their carnal id alone. Just as in the 1960s -- when students were in search of soul mates via computer dating -- many students at Penn today continue to want something more than a random hookup. (Gasp.) In fact, many Penn students are looking for love. After getting over their sick and twisted sexual obsessions with Daniel Moynihan (maybe this is a personal thing only), Penn students seek relationships among their fellow students, hoping to meet "the one." Or at the very least someone. Anyone. But the sad fact of the matter is, no matter how many personal ads you place in the DP (you know who you are), you still might come out of Penn with nothing. Penn just can't guarantee you a romance, emotional intimacy or a mate. Sadly, though Penn invests money in "DisPennsers" in each of the University's classrooms, no has yet volunteered to invest University funds in your sex life. One can't help but wonder: Why not? Take Harvard, our safety school. During senior week, seniors write down the names of up to five people they have had crushes on during their undergraduate careers. A computer checks for mutual crushes, and then, on the night of what's called "The Last Chance Dance," lucky seniors receives their list of matches. The student body, in turn, attempts to get some student body. True, it's disturbing to view Harvard students as models for emotional and sexual satisfaction. But maybe there's something in Cambridge's water that helps them come up with this stuff. But maybe Penn would be better off if at the entrance to every dorm building there were a computer dating machine next to each ATM machine. Or maybe not. It's not that there aren't enough opportunities to date people. It's that we are a low-risk generation and we are afraid of actually asking a person out, since that would require a risk. What we need isn't a dating machine -- it's courage. Courage to pick up the phone and call someone. Courage to ask someone out no matter how stupid we might feel if it turns out they think we're fat and our moms are ugly. Courage to try something new, to date someone who isn't the "type" with which the dating machine would pair us. Courage to take on something that has a good chance of failing but for which the rewards, if successful, are beyond great. That is what life is made of.