The New Math

"42.7% of all statistics are made up on the spot." Unknown

I accidentally volunteered to help with math in my son's classroom. I had intended to help with literacy but signed up on the wrong day. I hold a grudge against numbers in some ways. They are always too small in my bank account or adding up on some bill I haven't paid. The real truth is that I like words more. It is words that lend themselves to flights of fancy. Math has always seemed too factual for me.

But I volunteered and believe in following through on commitments, so I am learning the new math. For problems in my son's class, they use a triangle to make addition and subtraction equations, and it always seems to work. The top minus one side equals the other side. The bottoms added together equal the top. There is a lovely clarity in it.

It is not so clear in the "do I dare to eat a peach," or questions about "how to live in a world so extravagant it has a sky," or even in the "so much depends upon a red wheelbarrow." Life is too big.

Last night, I went to a fundraiser for a local not-for-profit that supports immigrants. It was a big dance, and I went without a date. A man too old by my count came up and wanted to dance with me, and so I danced with him because I knew that it was hard to be alone, and I left early because even after I lied to him and told him I had a boyfriend, I still had trouble shaking him off.

This is part of the new math I discovered after my divorce. Some of it was pedestrian: I have one less house, one less husband, one new ex, one new email account, four new bank accounts, three new credit cards, one son, one dog. I have 166 friends on Facebook (a few of whom I share with my ex who "unfriended" me), 120 connections on LinkedIn, and 68 followers on Twitter (and no idea how to get more). When I got married, men looked at me and treated me in a way that I took for granted. Now, the men my age mostly seem to want to date women who are at least 5 years younger than they are. This math doesn't make sense to me. And I probably shouldn't complain because I can still find people my age to date, but for how long?

There is no end to the potential for humor in online dating. I recently went out with a man who told me that there were an inordinate number of women who took pictures of themselves behind trees-not desks, trees. Also people go online (hoping for love, companionship, etc) and lie about their age. Really?

But sometimes I can't help but look at the number of people who have viewed my profile. There are 2784 people on match.com who have looked me over, and most of them have not contacted me. I have no desire to reset this "number of views"-though it is an option.

Online Dating and The New Math

In 2011, the US census estimated that there were 311,591,917 people in the US and that 43% of them were single. That's 133,984,524 people who are not married.

Of those 133,984,524, 37% are definitely too young or probably too old for me (under 18 or over 65). That's: 133,984,524 - 49,574,273 = 84,410,251.

Of this total, 49.2% are men. That's 41,529,843. That makes me.000066% of the way through the pool of American men-or they are through with me.

While we're still looking at the bigger population, let's say that 12% of these men prefer men. That's leaves 88%, 36,546,261.

Let's say that 14.5% of these men are attractively tall (to me). I am 5'11 and have always liked tall men, over 6 ft. This reduces the total number to 5,299,208 men.

This makes the assumption that, since it is legal to date 18-years-olds, I might date one. Assuming that all the men who have viewed my profile are tall and that there are an equal number of tall men in every age category (I can already see my logic faltering), I am through.000525% of my pool of tall American men-or they are through with me.

Assuming 40% of this tall group is too young for me (moderate cougar opportunities still allowed but nothing extreme). There are 3,179,525 Americans left. Of those men,.000875% (2784) are through with me for sure.

But the lines between math and fiction continue to blur.

About 1% of the population suffers from NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder). Is it safe to assume that 1% of these men are tall? My ex husband who was a strong part of this 1% is very tall. I can't help but wonder if this is common. Is it possible that 2% of these tall men suffer from NPD? Three percent? Four percent? For now, let's assume my tall men group has the statistical norm, 1%. That's 3,179,525 Americans minus 31795 = 3,147,730.

Are Republicans taller than average? Let's say that my tall group is also statistically the same in terms of political affiliations and that 47% of these men are Republicans (sorry guys). That leaves 1,668,296 Liberals for me to date.

Of the 14.5% of men over 6 ft tall, do 1.7% live in my state? If so, I'm to 28,361. But what if I happen to live in a state with surprisingly few tall men? I think that I began my overestimation of men several equations (and many years) ago.

If it is true that 65% of single people are dating online, I'm left with 18,434-as long as in my state the statistic is accurate. What happens if the 65% is mostly from densely populated areas along the East Coast? Also, it's impossible not to wonder if the other 35% who are not online are some of my best matches.

Let's assume that Match has it right and that all of the 2784 are in the "possible" category (tall enough, men, not gay, not republicans, etc). That means that in six months, I will be 15% of the way through with online dating in my state. In one year, I will have completed 30%, two years 60%, and so on. At this rate, I could be done with online dating in my state in three years. That's not too bad.

Unfortunately, this only works if there is no turnover online, if people don't move, if my looks continue to hold for another three years, and a few other things as well. I don't think I'd be able to change my profile if I wanted to make it statistically valid. This completely ignores the rest of the world, including Brazilian men. I definitely want to date a Brazilian man at some point.

According to statistics validated by Reuters, Herald News, PC World, and the Washington Post in June of this year: A woman's desirability online peaks at 21. At 26, women have more online pursuers than men. By 48, men have twice as many online pursuers as women. Men lie most about their age, height, and income. Women lie most about their weight, physical build, and age."

By these equations, after our divorce, my desirability was cut in half at the same time that my ex's doubled. This is most definitely, clearly, absolutely not like the triangle that my son is learning to create in his class at school, but I do not feel trapped by these numbers in the least. They do not hold the power of my ex husband in our previous life or even threaten my happiness. Through the morning as I have done the basic math, the numbers have stretched and changed like the best-described sunsets, quirky encounters, words that make me swoon. And this simple math has an art like the power of a perfect turn of phrase. Statistics are like metaphors of change.

New Math & My Date on Friday

And so I am going out on Friday with a man from Hawaii who is coming here to run a marathon. I do not live in Hawaii. The man is shorter than I am by two inches. Despite the fact that he is liberal (and does have a delightful sense of humor), he doesn't fit into my online equation for a man I'd like to date.

He writes, "Life is always too big to fit into the days and weeks that we have." I send him one of my favorite poems by Stephen Dunn.

Ars Poetica

By Stephen Dunn

I'd come to understand restraint
is worthless unless
something's about to spill or burst,

and that the Commandments
understand us perfectly, a large NO
for the desirability of everything

vengeful, delicious, out of reach.
I wanted to write ten things
that contained as much.

Maybe from the beginning
the issue was how to live
in a world so extravagant

it had a sky,
in bodies so breakable
we had to pray.

I welcomed, though,
our celestial freedom, our promiscuous flights
all returning to earth.

Yet what could awe us now?
The feeling dies
and then the word.

Restraint. Extravagance. I liked
how once could unshackle the other,
that they might become indivisible.

Astaire's restraint was a kind of extravagance,
while Ginger Rogers danced backwards
in high heels and continued to smile!

She had such grace it was unfair
we couldn't take our eyes off him,
but the beautiful is always unfair.

I found myself imagining him
gone wild, gyrating, leaping,
his life suddenly uncontainable.

Oh, even as he thrashed,
I could tell he was feeling
for limits, and what he could bear.

Since my divorce, I have been approaching my life a little like a math problem. I marvel at the joy and boldness in my Hawaiian date's response to Dunn's poem as he writes: "Regarding restraint, I think only some things need be restrained. Most should not. I subscribe to the philosophy of one Mr. Cat Stevens, 'if you want to sing out, sing out.'"

And I doubt that I will ever have the right equation for any of it: life, love, parenting, work. I will probably always treat statistics as metaphors and probably always "feel for limits of what [I] can bear."

But also, I do want to sing out. Oh, how I do!

http://www.everhappilyafter.com

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