I Wish I Could Convince You to be Curious -- and to go Out on Dates.

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In a now-viral New York Times article last week, Rachel Drucker – a 54-year-old Chicago attorney – laments the contemporary dating scene. Specifically, she calls out men of all ages who seem to have retreated into “avoidance, exhaustion, and disrepair.” The guys aren’t asking out women anymore, says Drucker. They seem to prefer the comforts and distractions of the black mirrors they hold in their hands.

Drucker has more to her argument than disappointing personal anecdote. According to the most recent survey from the respected National Institute of Family Growth, sexlessness is at an all-time high. To the extent that this is a problem (and some might not accept that it is), it’s a relatively new one: “For young adult males, sexlessness has roughly doubled across all measures over the last 10 years or so. For young adult females, it has risen by roughly 50 percent.” Rachel Drucker and I are well into middle age, outside the parameters of what even the most generous could decently call “young,” but based on her report, the problem of sexlessness (and lack of interest in sex altogether) is not limited to those born after Ronald Reagan left office.

I’m not a sociologist. I no longer teach gender studies. I haven’t run a retreat for young men in nearly twenty years. I have no special insight into this crisis, save to agree with all those who say that our smart phone addiction is probably one of the chief causes. But the phones are not the only catalyst for the problem Drucker laments, or at least, not by themselves. The real problem isn’t diminished libido. The real problem is a lack of curiosity about other human beings.

“Men perform elsewhere,” writes Drucker. “They’ve filtered us out.” On Twitter (X), many on the far right mocked her for what they claimed was her misplaced entitlement. To summarize the foul-mouthed responses from the misogyny patrol, men have filtered out women because women’s demands are wildly unreasonable. Women’s expectations for men – for height, penis size, income, emotional dexterity, ambition, fitness – are invariably unattainable. Men are tired, we are told, of being held to impossibly high and often contradictory standards. They have gone their own way, refusing to date as an act of self-protection from the rapaciously irrational yearnings of the average American woman.

I have been dating again for two months. After nearly two years of celibacy following my separation from my last wife, I went “back on the apps.” I met my third and fifth wives online – the former back in an age when dating websites were hosted only on desktop computers. It is a familiar return for me, though I recognize the world has changed a great deal since I first signed up for Matchmaker.com (using my dialup modem and my Earthlink account) sometime in early 1999. I have changed too. I am a long way from my early thirties, and it shows in my face and in my temperament. No matter. The basic rule is still the same: a man will do very well indeed if he likes women.

I wrote last year about the importance of cultivating platonic friendships between the sexes. It’s a cultural thing, at least in part; those of us who grew up in homes where our parents and other adults had good friends of the opposite sex are at considerable advantage here. But it’s never too late for anyone to learn. If you approach every date solely as an opportunity to find sex (or a spouse), you will eventually find the process tedious. If you regard friendly conversation as a kind of job interview that will lead to the bedroom, the altar or both? You will probably find the process stressful and disheartening. If, on the other hand, you approach each first date as an opportunity to hear a story, learn a new fact, see from a new perspective? You can’t miss.

(I photograph well for a man my age. I’m fit and I can dress myself and I can write a good profile. Perhaps I’m just lucky with women in a way that I am not with money.In 1976, when I was nine, my mother took my brother and me to a fundraiser for Leon Panetta, then a young Democratic candidate for Congress looking to unseat an entrenched Central Coast Republican. At that fundraising event, there was a woman who gave the children Tarot card readings. California in the 1970s! Whee! In any event, the woman looked at the cards, looked at little me, and announced that I would be very lucky in love and have a very hard time with money. Perhaps she actually saw something, or perhaps she made it up, but either way, I have taken it as solemn fate. When I go out on dates, I am almost always calm and confident. When I am pitching myself to a potential client, however, my neediness comes through loud and clear. The results speak for themselves. I am hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. Making rent every month is a precarious adventure. My dance card? Full.)

Since late April I have gone out on dates with eleven or twelve different women. I am a man of limited means; these dates are for coffee or ice cream. (Lads, do consider the latter as a cost-effective alternative.) The youngest woman I’ve gone out with is 28; the oldest, 65. I have no interest in being chastised for those parameters, and the pearl-clutching over age gaps is not for me. All of these women are interesting, though only seven or eight of this number have progressed to a second date or beyond.

Perhaps this success, to the extent that you can call a five-times-divorced man a success at anything, is down to the basic truth that I really, really, enjoy women as my fellow human beings. Their company and conversation are delightful, and that is true whether “chemistry” emerges or does not.

I wasn’t born curious. I often attribute to luck, breeding, and genetic disposition what is sometimes better explained by effort. Gentlemen don’t brag, or they should try not to. But the problem with never bragging is that one projects a misplaced modesty. My instinct is to tell you that I am curious and kind, a decent writer, and physically fit merely because of happy accident, and I should not expect you to believe otherwise. The problem is that when we ascribe all virtues to good fortune, we let others off the hook for making changes in their own lives. And people, you may have noticed, like to be let off the hook. (Like me, when I say I’ll never make real money because of what a fortune teller said in 1976.)

The capacity to be curious, to sustain conversation, to ask questions, to read nonverbal cues? This can be learned. It is not innate. Some people will have an easier time than others, but a basic fascination with your fellow human beings is something you can cultivate. Getting out of yourself and into any relationship (sexual, platonic, familial, collegial) is a skill that can be developed and honed. As any dating coach will tell you, it is better to learn how to be fascinated than to project oneself as fascinating. You may have forgotten how to be curious. Your phone may have trained you to have the attention span of an espresso-drunk gnat. You can still learn how to be interested, how to ask the follow-up. And you will find, if you do it right, that you are not merely feigning interest, but experiencing the very real thing.

There are very few genuinely dull people. There are many people who are not good at asking the right questions in the right order. You can learn how to do this. And you should learn how to do this, not so you can succeed in politics or in some stuffy drawing room, but so you will feel less lonely. So that you can meet someone with whom you can connect in one way or another. And though not every date leads to a kiss, or straight to the bedroom, or to a proposal, some may. Your best chance of finding an alternative to isolation and frustration? Your best chance of being seen? It starts with you getting better at seeing.

I have largely stopped writing pleas for civility and good manners because, well, it’s repetitive and it makes people angry. You say that the stakes are so high, the enemy so wicked, the fate of our nation and our planet so dire, that you absolutely positively must express your rage. Harsh and intemperate speech is justified, even necessary, given the provocations. Civility, you say, is complicity with the Great Crime. I am not sure I can convince you otherwise, but from time to time, I’ll still try. I just am not sure I know how to convince you that everyone – everyone – is trying their best, and everyone deserves your respect, your compassion, and your courtesy.

I am not sure I can convince you that other people are worth your curiosity. I wish I could! With apologies to the Apostle Paul, in this regard I do wish most men were as I am -- maybe without the neurosis, but with the deep and abiding interest in their fellow human beings. I wish I could convince you that women are not a strange species, that for the most part, their expectations are neither unreasonable nor all that different from your own.

I wish you would let yourself hope, let yourself try, let yourself believe that connection is the most sublime and wonderful of things, and no matter your circumstances, you can have it. If you are willing to be curious.