"This is going to be a good date," Cynthia says to the camera, flipping her cellphone shut with a smile. A 33-year-old salon manager, Cynthia is one of 11 women whose online dating experience is on display in the ABC News documentary series "Hooking Up."

Since at this point online dating is about as cutting edge as Betamax, one might question why "documenting" such a trend would be considered in any way groundbreaking. But the truth is, "Hooking Up" makes for innovative coverage (and addictive television), precisely because it reveals the utter normalcy of online dating.

The five-part series (Thursday nights at 9, through Aug. 11) isn't a reality show per se, so there is no contrived element of competition. Nor are viewers subjected to "group dates," hot-tub excursions of alarming frequency or the atrocity known as a rose ceremony. It's just single people going on dates, as they've done through the ages — good dates, bad dates, blah dates and the occasional flaming freak show from hell.

"Hooking Up" may be especially enlightening for people who've never tried online dating, who often seem to confuse cyberspace with outer space. "What's it like?" they'll ask, their eyes opening wide, as if the dates involve dehydrated food pellets and gravity boots.

But having dabbled in online dating on and off for the past few years, I can report that aside from the ability to shop for partners in your PJs, online dating is really not much different than dating in the offline world.

Like offline dating, online dating encompasses a range of experiences, from that of my cousin, who met her future husband, to that of "Hooking Up's" Lisa, a 36-year-old gynecologist whose dinner date makes repeated attempts to look under her arms, asking, "Did you shave today? Come on now, did you?"

Luckily, none of the guys I've met online have badgered me about grooming. I do remember once, however, sitting very still in a brewpub, willing myself anywhere else, while a guy I'd met online badgered our waiter at great length because Bud Light was not available. ("Microbrews are frickin' crap," I heard him announce, when I momentarily returned to my body.)

Cynthia chooses to go out-of-restaurant rather than out-of-body, when her date, who claimed to be a "slim Fabio," turns out to look more like a burnout Ichabod Crane. He's definitely spacey and possibly stoned and confesses, when pressed, that his online photo is "about 15 years old."

And here we must pause for a digression about photos. Obviously, posting outdated pictures with your online profile is not considered terribly good form. In the quest for a good photo, however, some online daters choose to "erase," via Photoshop, what was clearly a recent love. This creates eerie scenes in which the potential date appears to have his arm around a ghost, or — if he's blackened out the woman's face, say, from under a GoreTex hood — as if he's taking a romantic stroll on the beach with the Grim Reaper.

In the online context, pictures are supposed to reflect you at your best, and another reason to watch "Hooking Up" is to see the vast difference in photo selection between daters in NYC (where the show was filmed) and in Seattle.

In the Big Apple, it seems common to show yourself in a bathing suit, and professional headshots are de rigueur. But in the Emerald City, the glamour shots are much fleecier, and often reveal the candidate in a state of conquering the outdoors. "Here I am, atop Mount Rainier!" they shout. Or, "Don't mind me, just clinging to this glacier!" And, "Oh! You caught me kayaking from Alaska to Bainbridge!"

Even accurate photos, of course, are no guarantee of that ever-elusive chemistry. For the most part, online dates resemble the one that "Hooking Up's" Claire (26) has with the seemingly cute/normal/nice Nick, whom she deems "too vanilla" after he orders exactly that from an ice-cream man. Although she liked his online profile and he appeared "great on paper" (or would that be pixels?), Claire just doesn't feel that je ne sais quoi in person.

Chemistry is a science that's evoked frequently in the online dating world, since no matter how perfect a match someone appears to be in cyberspace, real-world sparks can be judged only offline.

In the past, I had lengthy e-mail exchanges with guys who were brilliant, intoxicating writers, but when we finally met in person, the magical mystery just wasn't there. At one point, this was happening so frequently I told my friends I would only agree to meet men who couldn't string a sentence together. (As for how that plan worked out, see above re: the Bud Light badger.)

"Sometimes chemistry has to grow," a few of my married friends have told me. Which raises the question, then why do they call it chemistry? Isn't that more like horticulture?

Of course, chemistry in the absence of other disciplines (like reason) can lead you down a thorny path. Claire, for example, in the space of about 35 seconds, goes from thinking her date Josh is a dud (because he's never heard of Tom Ridge) to hanging all over him. All because of his sudden kiss that resembles an attack by a sea lamprey?

Amy, another "Hooking Up" documentee, is perhaps the best example of chemistry gone horribly awry. A cornucopia of mixed messages, 28-year-old Amy openly states her desire to find a husband, "make babies" and have a house in the suburbs. Her screen name? "HedonistVenus." Amy instantly falls for (and into bed with) a professional poker player, soon after finds him "annoying," goes out with another guy, swearing this time she'll take it slower, then announces, "Maybe if I sleep with him, I'll get to know the real him."

And this is why "Hooking Up" is so eminently watchable. It reveals the truth about dating, online or off — the highs and lows, the excitement and humiliation, the leaps of faith and stupid mistakes, the crushing disappointments and giddy optimism.

Part of the reason Cynthia's misguided prediction for "a good date" is compelling is the fact that this divorced woman, who's already been on countless bad dates, who has, it must be said, a bit of a harsh 'tude, and who has only moments before asked her prospective suitor, "Did you take your Ritalin today?" is genuinely, sincerely hopeful that things are going to go off without a hitch.

I believe in some circles it's called the "indomitable human spirit." (In others, it may be referred to as "naïveté" or "sheer idiocy.") But that crazy little thing called hope is in large part responsible for the fact that online dating services are thriving. With an estimated 40 million people dating online, it does seem possible that you might actually meet someone. And if he asks you if you shaved today, as Amy says, "Try, try, try, try, try again."

Northwest Lite is an occasional humor piece in Northwest Life; Brangien Davis is a regular contributor to The Seattle Times: brangiendavis@yahoo.com