You already know that a Facebook page can easily become a repository of avoidable turnoffs: albums of unintentionally depressing bathroom-mirror selfies, syntactically insane drunk-posts, easily traceable hookup histories via relationship statuses. Another guy—a very hot, dangerous-in-a-way-that-I-like guy—used his Facebook page to complain about his bills, his co-workers, his commute, and other banal life-slights, which made him into a boring-in-a-way-that-I-hate guy.
Which made me realize that even a man's mere existence on Facebook is anti-erotic. See, when straight single women think of straight single men, we generally and sexist-ly think of self-propelled, independent guys who spend time doing things: throwing balls, making deals, building something, even brooding quietly. Not on this list of activities: oversharing. Just having a Facebook account implies that you are wasting your remaining youth warming your genitals with a laptop and working out the details of a status update like a nail-biting middle schooler.
The best thing to do, it seems, is to get rid of Facebook altogether.
Yes, some women will be suspicious of guys, especially under-35s, who are off the social-media grid. A serial-killer vibe attaches itself to otherwise dateable men whose names result in “Your search did not match any documents” on Google. Having a Facebook account is unsexy for single guys, but ghosting the Internet entirely is another kind of red flag.
The good news is that Twitter and Instagram don't pose the same potential threat as Facebook. Both include only what you choose and make a better case for who you are and want to be. They're hard evidence for a woman that you just might be a worthwhile, smart, active guy, as depicted via an intelligent back-and-forth with someone in your industry or a moody shot of the back-alley cocktail bar you found on vacation. I mean, there's still a lot of ways to screw both up, but at least we think of you out in the world, posting occasional, semi-mysterious life missives. On both, the guiding principle dovetails with how you should act on a date: Less—of you, of your life—is more.
A straight single man without Facebook is an increasingly rare idyll: It suggests that he still believes in the irreproducible alchemy of in-person meet-cutes and has the confidence to make them happen, that he gives enough of a shit to maintain friendships off-line, that he maybe even remembers the seductive value of actual phone calls. A dude who is willing and able to talk to a woman is a dude with an easy but significant sexual advantage.
My first date with the No-Facebook Guy was so good and so intense that when I got home, shot through with romantic energy, I threw a plate against the wall, shattering it and scaring myself. This is not, like, normal behavior for me. But being denied total, instant access has become pretty unusual. And when I periodically have to get to know a guy the old-fashioned real-life way, it's both way hotter and just better: I'm never more excited to get to know someone than when I really have to do the work. Mystery, of any kind and for any reason, is unbelievably energizing, and it's yours for the taking. Just click “delete account.”
Article By Kate Carraway