Sometimes, as a product of Generation X, I feel romantically handicapped. I grew up with a computer connected the Internet. When I was 10, I got my first cell phone because my family decided it would be cheaper than to have a landline. I have never not been “plugged in.”

I love technology, don’t get me wrong, but I sort of feel like at 20 years old I’ve been screwed out of some sort of dating rite of passage. When I meet a guy at a party or on campus somewhere who I’m into, my first instinct is to find the nearest computer and “friend” him on Facebook because as a child of the digital age, this is how I flirt. It’s geeky and overly subtle, but it’s what I know, and for me, it’s tried and true.

But what ever happened to good old fashioned, physical, in-person flirting, sans a smart phone? Granted, sending a risqué photo of yourself or a suggestive text message has its perks, but sometimes flesh to flesh contact is all you need to get the ball rolling.

I’ve wracked my brain trying to think of one instance in my dating history that technology – computers, cell phones, etc. – didn’t play an instrumental role in landing me a date. I can’t think of even one. So it baffles me to think that I have some sort of unexplainable aversion to online dating.

One lonely Friday night last spring in the midst of finals and sleep deprivation, I created a profile on a popular dating site after some encouragement from friends and family who’ve had luck in the virtual dating world. It took me roughly 40 minutes to answer all of the questions and upload a few photos of myself. As soon as I clicked, “publish,” I was immediately bombarded with photos and links to profiles of men from Emporia and surrounding communities.

After perusing a few intriguing choices for about half an hour, something inside me clicked. I suddenly felt extreme embarrassment. What if someone recognized my photo? What if, God forbid, someone I knew in “real life” found me?

After being a member of the online dating scene for little more than an hour, I deleted my profile. But I’m not entirely sure why I did it. Of course, there’s the reasoning that I was using the free version of the site, and to harvest any fruit of my labor, I would have to cough up a monthly fee to actually make a connection. And as I said, I was embarrassed. But why?

It’s due, in part, to the stigma of online dating. There’s a belief in our culture that those who turn to the Internet to foster romantic desires are desperate, or somehow “unfit” to mate with the rest of us. Unattractive. Damaged goods. Socially awkward. Weird. The list is endless.

I think that for many people – at least for me – resorting to online dating is like saying, “I give up. I don’t fit in with the ‘normal’ daters, so I’ll take what I can get online.” But what we don’t realize is that this simply isn’t the case. The fact of the matter is that we are human beings. We evolve. Why shouldn’t the way we court one another evolve, too?

So far in 2012, 40 million people either used or visited an online dating website, double the number in 2007, according to an infographic published by MBAPrograms.org. And the online dating industry has gone from a $900 million industry in 2007 to a $1.9 billion industry in 2012.

While sites like Facebook don’t entirely resemble more traditional ones, are they really any different? Don’t social networking sites have, at their core, the same agenda as dating sites?

Let’s be honest for a moment. Who in this day and age doesn’t have a Facebook account? I’ll concede that there are a few diehards out there who refuse to join the social network bandwagon, but gems like these are few and far between. For the rest of us, we’ve been sucked in and escape, let’s face it, is futile. Now take a moment to think about your account; visualize it in your mind.

Is your profile picture like mine? Did you pick that photo specifically because it highlights your more attractive qualities or portrays you in some sort of desirable way?

Now picture your “about me” section. Have you tailored it so you appear witty and culturally sophisticated, etc.?

Face it. Dressing up your account is like picking out a low-cut top that makes your boobs look good so you’ll be noticed by potential suitors.

When you boil it down to the basics of human nature, many forms of modern technology have a common thread. At the end of the day, we are all simply trying to make a connection, whether we’re looking for just a friend or trying to get laid.

So to hell with the stigma that being on a dating site means that there’s something fundamentally wrong with you. If getting digital with someone is easier or more comfortable for you, who are we to judge?