8) From serial to parallel dating

I wanted to find a life partner but after periods of stop and go dating, I realized that my search for love was always losing out to kids, work or binge watching on Netflix.  Then I thought about it, if to be fulfilled I need to have a soul mate, shouldn’t I treat it as a priority?  I am a professional project manager, so I decided to date as a project with a plan, criteria and schedule.  This turned out very time consuming, and with three kids and a job, a logistical undertaking worthy of a four star general.

That Saturday morning, I fed the kids breakfast, retired to the privacy of my bedroom, and signed up simultaneously to three dating sites, each intended to capture a slightly different demographic.  Match.com for its wide-spread popularity, eHarmony befitting the serious relationship minded, and J-Date to hedge my bet with the tribe.  It took me a couple of hours to put together Match.com.  I came back from a bathroom break to find my tween daughter filling in the “looking for” portion of my profile.  She told me: “Mommy, don’t worry, I know what kind of a man we need.”  Good for her, because I sure didn’t know what I need.  It took me just another hour to Jew it up for J-Date.  eHarmony was a nightmare, I had to answer so many questions that I almost gave up and googled the thousands of answers to “how long does it take to answer eharmony questions?”

I had a multi-step plan, each phase fitting into the next, like a series of Russian nesting dolls.  This was a numbers game, and the objective was to build a pipeline of possibilities through the following activities that were only to terminate upon identification of “the one”:

1. Review potential matches recommended by each dating site and “wink”, “like” “flirt”, etc. which-ever ones passed my initial criteria.
2. Read emails daily, and again, review their profile for potential compatibility. Write a “thank you, no thank you email” for the rejects, and begin an exploratory correspondence with potentially suitable mates.
3. Go on a coffee dates with those who seemed literate and promising.
4. If a coffee meeting was a success, proceed to a real date.
5. Have multiple dates with the same man, until it either fizzles out, or I find my one and only.

Within a month, I went through hundreds of profiles, and to keep track of every suitor’s convoluted profile name (i.e. Joe20013LivingitupinDC) , I maintained a running roster of their profile aliases and corresponding real name.

Coffee dates, would usually last between an hour to an hour and a half, in addition to time for beautifying myself, and travel there and back. For effectiveness, I would have these shorter dates during my lunch breaks, within walking distance of work, or in a strip mall after I fed the kids dinner.  This meant regularly shifting my mind, wardrobe, and appearance between kids, work and men.

For first encounters, I like wearing dresses and heels, but what is suitable at work is not very feminine and attractive on a date.  So I became a master of flexible and quick outfit changes worthy of the Matahari herself.  I would wear a dress to work, a demure camisole underneath, with sensible heels, conservative jewelry and minimal makeup.  After work I would whip off the cami to reveal cleavage, slip on the sky high heels stashed in my bag, put on dangly jewelry, and of course dab on extra mascara and lipstick to show off my (natural) pout.  Sometimes this change would happen at the bathroom at work as I would sneak my dazzling self out, sometimes at a fast food restroom between work and the date, and sometimes even in the car.  Oh yes, my car was regularly stocked with cosmetics, make up remover, paper towels, tweezers, pantyhose, hair gel, brush, and changes of clothes.

Eventually, a few coffee dates turned into real dates to restaurants, movies, the theater, and of comedy clubs.  Some fizzled out after a few encounters, and following a couple of months of systematic dating and screening, I settled on a rotation of the same three guys on a regular basis.  Albert was a white 6’4 man exactly my age, so we actually got each other’s references to Mork and Mindy, and Weird Al Yankovic.  The second was Antonio, Hispanic, self-made professional who liked to dance and was in tip-top shape.  And rounding up the trio, Alroy, a 6’7 African American IT professional with a great sense of humor.  I called it “Dating the rainbow”.  I didn’t mean for it to be a rainbow, but it did tickle my fancy, and I even put down on my profile: “equal opportunity dater” (I hope this was not misinterpreted.)

I did question whether I should serial date, one man after the other until I settled on the right one.  Or should I parallel date a few guys simultaneously until I figured out who I liked best.  I decided that at my age, time is of the essence, and if I want to give my love life its due, I need to parallel date.  This turned out to be very very very very difficult.

I had to schedule every one of the men to make sure that they got enough attention from me, and to have an opportunity for our relationship to develop.  Each got one weeknight or lunch, as well as a few hours over the weekend, and with time in between for texting/emailing/etc.  On my smartphone and online calendar Albert, Antonio and Alroy, each had their own color coded entries and nick-name.

I won’t lie or demur, it was fun.  They looked differently, acted differently, and each had interests that appealed to a distinct side of me.  For Antonio, I was a seductress earth goddess, and during our encounters, as I batted my eyelashes, often a Spanish guitar would play in the background.  He was a Latin dance and love machine, and had an accent to die for.  I was not yummy, I was “jummy”, he went “chopping” for jewelry for me, oh, and apparently a “vagina” is a “bagina”.

With Albert, I let my sexy geek flag fly high.  He found my ethnic background fascinating, and he managed to learn many languages to the beginner level.  So he thought I sounded like Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle.  When I mentioned how I adore the ballet, a month later he surprised me with tickets to the Kennedy Center for my birthday.  I dropped my love for Monty Python’s Flying Circus, and he he took me to Spamalot.  Albert also fulfilled my life long dream of learning to play Dungeons and Dragons (and how I don’t want to ever do it again – Ever!)

Alroy was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, and with a great sense of humor to boot.  With him I was a wholesome and fragile flower, and we explored different museums and restaurants together.

On top of raising three kids and holding down a responsible job, the mental gymnastics of dating three men simultaneously, while having their perks (wink, wink), turned out to be too much even for my versatile brain.  As I was getting ready to see Albert, Antonio would text, and Alroy would call.  I had to be careful not to mix up their names, our activities, preferences, etc.  I also had to be careful for the babysitter not to see me meeting three different men.  Thankfully, she is a bit hard of hearing and short sighted, and she seemed to always cheer my attempts at finding love.

So eventually, I had to let two of them go and break it off.  Alroy and I began drifting away, since I was not good at being a delicate flower, I just let us drift apart.  Albert was more difficult, because I honestly liked him, I just didn’t “love” him.  I didn’t want to tell him that unbeknownst to him, there was a contest that he lost.  So I told that my ex-boyfriend wants to try again and I want to give him a second chance.  Apparently, he has heard this one before from other women. Ouch.

Antonio, to this day, he does not know that there was a contest, and that he won.  Although about a year later, I did end up breaking up with him as well.  It was an exhausting, but fun filled six months.

7) It’s raining men – So why is it so hard?

Last Saturday, I was having dinner with three other Russian born, 40 something, divorces, and as they say Russian – each one of us was more attractive than the other.  We are all MBAs, successful in our careers, wordily  and god dam fun.  Over good food and wine, the conversation flowed on how hard it is to date and find a man.  while I am writing a blog to vent off steam, Katya was mysterious, Ksenya is dating up a storm, and Kira has decided to just throw in the towel.  As she put it:  “men are more trouble than they are worth”.

When I became newly single, the song “it’s raining men” played loudly in my head as I imagined being over run by available and attractive men of every shape and size, with full heads of hair, a zest for life, and a hankering to settle down with marvelous me.  There are just as many single men as single women my age, they are out there, and everywhere: at work, at bars, online, speed dating, joining singles groups, and going to “meet up” events.   So why was it so much easier when I was younger? 25 years ago to be exact, or as my mother is apt to say: “when you were a quarter century younger”.

Maybe because in college, where many of us coupled seriously for the first time, we spent most of our waking hours with other twenty somethings.  We were swimming in a veritable pool of possible mates.  From shared classes, cramped dorm rooms, to nearly nightly clubs, bars and parties.  Now a days, I work in a field dominated by women, most eligible men are either married, way too young, and lots of them are gay.  In short, the mating pool I swim in is a kiddie pool.

We also had lots more time on our hands.  I don’t remember how many times I said: “hey, what should we do today?”  We hung out at each other’s places, explored new clubs, took vacations.  Now a days, my time is not my own, between work and kids, if I go out twice a week I feel so decadent, that I won’t readily admit it.

Not only were we continuously hob-nobbing with lots of other young eligible people, but we were way more attractive.  All of us!  No wrinkles or bags around our eyes, even after all-nighters and parties.  The women were slimmer (even if we didn’t see ourselves that way), and the men were fitter and had more hair.  Of course, our hormones raged, and in my university it was a mating dance of hundreds of bronzed, lithe young men and women.  I hosted my share of bacchanalia, down to the obligatory college toga party.

At the time, my standards were basic, and I did not verbalize them (hence my marriage…. aaaahhhhh).  I wanted an attractive, intelligent, and manly guy. Period!  Now, I have a laundry list, my dream man must be established, witty, worldly, financially independent (especially of me), somewhat fit, able to discuss world events, kind to children and animals, sexually compatible with me, serious, fun etc. etc. etc.

Oh, the men are not much better.  In their youth, the guys also didn’t have standards.  It mostly amounted to being thankful for any woman who would agree to sleep with them.   Now, they want their women younger and younger, well put together, but not high maintenance.  They also must have lot of time to explore the world, and help them compensate for what ever it is their mid-life crisis is driving them towards or away.  Also, they expect us to put up with their ailments, back pains, conditions, and of course a hobby they picked up along the way, such as smoking meat, becoming one with the couch during March Maddness, or playing Dungeons and Dragons twice a week.  One of my ex-boyfriends, Kevin, had a small pharmacy in house full of pills for backpain, muscle relaxants, acid reflux, migraines, antihistamines, cholesterol, sleeplessness, and of course Viagra.

The few standards we did have back then, were quickly eroded by alcohol, recreational drugs and lack of sleep.  I remember going out at least Thursday through Saturday nights, and then once or twice on other weeknights.  All the while holding a full-time job, and carrying a demanding college course load.  I was a champion beer pitcher chugger.  Those days are so far behind me, I can not drink more than a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, and my total alcohol consumption for a month does not go above four glasses.

Raging hormones further fueled the mating frenzy, particularly in the men.  Unfortunately, while women’s sexual desire only seems to go stronger with age, men’s wanes.  It seems with the 40+ male set, like Kevin,  the drug of choice is Viagra.  I had tall hopes for Kiril, a 6’4 computer scientist of Irish descent.  I met him on OK Cupid, under preferred sexual frequency he wrote: “once every two weeks”.  I thought it must be a typo; who would have such low sex drive, much less proudly declare it over the Internet.  I found out the hard (no wait – the “soft”) way, that it wasn’t a typo.  He still writes to me, even after I told him I just want to be friends.

Now of course we all have buggage and responsibilities.  I mean, what man would not want a woman with extra weight, debts, three children, and a crazy ex.   I have kids, a job, bills to pay, and a relationship history that makes me scrutinize any potential man just so much closer.  This is not the carefree time of college, when our biggest worry was how to pay for college, not how to pay for our kids college, our retirement, and everything else.

Then, there are the kids.  All three of them would have to like him, and he would have to like all three of them.  All together, we have to get eight relationships right (I did the math, trust me on this one.)   And if he has kids, then I have to like them and they me.  That’s ten, twelve or even more relationships that we would have to get right Simultaneously.

Lastly, the longer I go on my own, the more I wonder how much am I willing to change to accommodate someone else.  How much is he? That is the biggest obstacle. Pill popping Kevin was scared he would have to move out of his house to mine.  Meanwhile, I shudder at the thought of having to keep house, or not walking around in a stained t-shirt when I clean the house, putting my hair up like a sumo wrestler, or being very un-ladylike when horsing around with my kids.

I am a declining commodity, who is asking for a higher and higher price.  As my friend Kayla put it: “I want the perfect man for me to just appear on my door step.”  To all my single friends – you are not alone.

6) Dating Rules #2 – It’s all about the money honey

Warning:  This one is not funny.  It’s about the money honey.

One thing I’ve had the most trouble figuring out is who pays on a date.  I am a devout feminist, and when I first started dating I thought that men and women, being equal, should split the costs equally.  After all, I am getting as much pleasure (or torture) from going out, so I should pay my fair share.

But what is this fair share?  The cost of going out for a single parent is exorbitantly high.  The dinner and movie alone are around $80.  On top of that is babysitting which at $15/hour for 6 hours brings the total for the evening to $170.  So outings once or twice a week can easily translate into a $1,000 a month.  Should my date be expected to pick up the cost of child care as well?  Or is this my own burden to bear?

I looked around, and men my age seem to be going out when ever their fancy strikes them.  In fact, many seem to have lots of free time, and the disposable income to go along with it.  What is going on?  Don’t they have equal incomes, and equal expenses?  (Stop laughing, this sentence was not meant to be funny.)  I am an economist, and from that perspective, women are unfairly economically disadvantages by a number of cumulative factors.

Let’s start with the obvious.  On average, men out-earn women.  The US Bureau of Labor Statics “Women’s Earnings Report 2012“, states that women made 81 cents for every dollar earned by men.  The numbers differ slightly across demographics, for example, women in my age bracket earned even less, only 75 cents on the dollar.

In case you are curious, there are about the same number of dateable men and women in the US, which includes those who are divorced, widowed and never married, but preclude those married or separated.  According to the “Living Arrangements 2012 study of the US Census Bureau“, in my age range, there are 2% more available women than men, or 3.45 million to 3.39 million.  I’ll take those odds.

Alas, the odds continue to eat away at women’s finances and time and ability to date. In the US there are almost 5 times more single mothers than single fathers, and of those in my age range (45-49) , only 8% of men are single fathers, while 30% of women are single mothers.  Even then, single fathers out-earn single mothers.

Surveys have found that, typical upper middle class families allocate a significant portion of their income to child related expenses, such as clothes, health costs, and child care.  To a family with three children that could amount to nearly half of the parents combined income.  However, during a divorce, courts make a determination according to a formula, or “guidelines”.  For example, in Virginia it is assumes that just over a quarter of a parent’s income should go towards child support.  Thus the custodial parent, which is usually a woman, ends up making up for the 20% short fall.  But since on average, it is women who earn less than their exes, they need to devote an even larger share of their income to children, or as much as 72%.

Well, some child support is better than none, right?  According to the US Census’ “Custodial Mothers and Fathers and their Child Support: 2011” children are receiving less than half the child support they are entitled to.  More specifically, 74% of custodial parents receive at least some of the child support they are due, of which only 43% receive full child support payments.  Interestingly, single mothers and fathers are just as likely to collect child support.  However, since the overwhelming majority of single parents are mothers, this has a much more detrimental financial effect on women.

That same publication notes that non-custodial parents, again mostly men, do provide noncash support.  Unfortunately, a look at the table shows that most of it is for optional and fun expenses, such as gifts for birthdays and holidays, while support for necessities such as medical expenses and child care was least.  So it does little to offset the costs of raising children.

The worst is that almost half, 43%, of parents have lost contact with their child.  So the single parents, again mostly women, have to pick up the slack and devote even more of their time and their money towards child rearing.  Apologies  in advance for the dark humor, but what are all these dead beat parents, mostly men, doing with their extra time and money?  Dating!

I took an unofficial survey of the teen and pre-teen set, and this is what they said: “It is only polite for the man to pay”. “Men should invite a woman out and pay.”  “I want free food, but not McDonalds, because I can pay for that myself.”  It seems the younger generation understands how the world works, because until men and women truly equally spend time and money on their children, men should pay.

5) Dating Rules #1 – The method to my madness

As I started looking for a new (and way better) man, I tried to understand the rules for dating. I have never dated, and while I have the hormones of a 46 year old woman, I have the dating experience of a 16 year old shy teenager.  You see, before my 20 year marriage, I didn’t date.  My friends and I hung out in packs, at times inebriated.    I am clueless about the rules governing relations between the sexes, much less the rules surrounding sexual relations.    Online, if I write to a man first, will he appreciate me as a confident assertive woman, or will he think me desperate?  After a first date, should we kiss good night?  Will he take me for the sensual woman I am, or think I am a slut?  How much should I chase, and how chaste should I appear?  Who am I kidding?  The three kids are a dead giveaway that I am no longer a virgin.

I researched extensively dating rules for the 40+, both on the Internet, and by talking to many other women and men in my age range.  The answer came down to: “There are no rules.  Just do what feels right for you.”  This left me no better off, just as dazed and confused, and so over time, I came up with my own set of rules that evolve with every encounter.  Let me walk you through the “method to my madness” in dating.

Step #1 – The initial contact:  So who writes to whom first?  It appears that even in cyberspace women recline back on their preverbal chaise lounges, munching on chocolates while waiting for the “gentlemen” to call.  That doesn’t make sense.   Why would you post an online profile advertising yourself, and then pretend that you are not available?   To be honest, I fear that if I write to a man first, he will think I am desperate.  Thankfully, online dating sites have given us women an out.  We can scroll through the available talent, and click on a button on the profiles of men we like for “like”, “wink”, and “flirt”.  It is not obligating, and says: “hey, I sort of like you, but I am not committing to anything just in case you don’t like me”.  My very handsome bosses wife “winked” at him on Match.com, and now it is two years, a marriage, and an adorable baby later…. So truth be told, I too demure, and wait for the man to reach out to me.  Let the hapless men get all the rejection, I say.

 

Step #2 – The correspondence:  Once the writing begins, the delicate balancing act continues.  Not to appear too needy, I have created a writing rule. I will write no more words than the man writes to me.  So if he writes a sentence, I reply with a sentence.  If he writes a paragraph, I will reply with a paragraph.  If he writes with less than a sentence, such as “Yo!”, or more than an essay, then I just press delete.  The subliminal message I am sending is: “My time, and hence I, is at least as valuable as you are”  (oh, and don’t you forget it!)

Step #3 – The first phone call (optional):  After a few emails, some men want to get off the dating site and email and text directly.  Sometimes, they want to make sure they are really corresponding with a woman in the US, rather than a Nigerian scammer.  More often, it means one thing. They want to talk dirty, send you naked pictures of their junk, or ask you to watch them do things that you can never un-watch.

It could be even worse.  You will have an o.k. conversation; agree to meet them, and then realize that you just can’t stand them.  But they have your phone number, so they keep texting and emailing you, and it’s just sad.  Conclusion: don’t give out your phone number or email until you are sure.

I am never clear how long to communicate online, back and forth until meeting.  Before we meet in person and in the flesh, should we first become dedicated pen-pals, who finish each other sentences, and realize that we are soul mates?  Or is it better to meet as soon as possible, because no matter how wonderful the soul is, if the flesh isn’t willing, we are never going to move out of the friends zone. As many people write on their profile: “I am not looking for friends, I have enough of those”.  Lucky souls.

Step #4 – The first meeting:  The initial in-person meeting is the chemistry test. It is mind boggling how many times I had an amazing meeting of the minds corresponding in cyberspace that just fizzled in the corporal reality.

It seems everyone wants to greet with a hug, and I don’t feel comfortable hugging strangers, also I presumed guys just want to cop a feel.  Now I believe it is a way for a man to gauge a woman’s sensuality.  That hit home with me when I met for coffee Derek for the first time.  He was 6’4,  250 lbs, and with a pock marked face.  When I came in, Derek stood up and rushed to engulf me in a bear hug.  I was so intimidated by his size and speed, that I shifted to one side, ducked and then stretched out my hand for a shake.  He gave me a hurt look, and we didn’t survive much longer.  Derek later told me that he figured that I won’t be an affectionate woman.  So now I hug, I figured, there is no way to catch STDs that way.

Step #5 – The first kiss:  Oh, and what is the rule for that much anticipated good night kiss.  If you like him, and want to see him again, should you let him kiss you?  Will the kiss be the beginning of something grand, or will he think I am easy?  If I don’t kiss him, will he think I am thoughtfully selective, or just frigid?  A couple of months ago I met David, a handsome, sexy and funny guy.  When he leaned in for the kiss, I made like a vestal virgin, and he never called again.    So now, if I am attracted to someone and the mood is right, I will kiss, because hey, I also want to test the chemistry, and maybe cop a feel.

Step #6 – What then?  Then afterwards, who contacts who?   I’ll fess up, I play the delicate damsel (all 200 lbs + of me), and let him put himself on the line.   I will only write/text/call if he does so first.  Sue me!  This is where I am not a feminist.  I am looking for a knight in shining armor.

Step #7 – Sex:  Finally, S.E.X.  What are the rules? If you put out on the first date are you a harlot?  Since I am in full middle-aged hormonal female bloom, would you blame me?  Also, why are we the ones “putting out”?  Some clever women have put men in a begging position for something we enjoy as much if not more.  No wonder men act like dogs.

There is a faux-rule, that the third date is the sex date.  I’ve broken it twice, hell did not swallow me, and both times I ended up in long-term relationships with good men.  Later, I met tall dark and handsome, “Darren”.  We went on six dates before we even kissed, he turned out to be a dud in bed, and I dropped him.  I felt gypped that I invested all this time in him.  It is all very confusing.

Step #8, 9, …. – Reload and repeat?

Truth be told, it‘s all very exciting, and I feel like an explorer discovering uncharted territory.

I am finding that dating in middle age is like the middle-ages, I am in the dark, there are really no rules, I am a damsel looking for her knight, while clinging to antiquated morality.

4) Dating – What’s in a name

Would a rose by any other name smell just as sweet?  Apparently not!  A woman’s screen name on a dating site can set the tone of future interactions. So in all fairness to men, yes, it is difficult to find a good one online, but some of the fault may lie with me.  It seems I am screen name challenged.

In my initial foray into online dating, I wanted to convey that I am someone who is both a serious woman with a career and children, but who also enjoys life and has fun.  I like dichotomies, as I am myself one, as well as is life in general.  I think it is the Russian part of my brain that allows me to hold two simultaneously seemingly contradictory thoughts.  Well, I racked this brain for quite a while.  It was late, and as I was getting ready for sleep, I had a fool’s gold of a thought.  “Why not keep it simple?”  “I am both serious and fun, so I should be “SeriousFun”.  I happily entered my screen name, created my profile, and went to sleep.  The next day I rushed around as any single working-mom does, and later that evening, I logged into my account.  Tumbling out came numerous messages with all sorts of propositions for “serious fun”, and “how much fun can we seriously have”, “how serious are you about fun”, and some that didn’t even try to be clever.    I managed to weed out a few people who showed promise, but within a month of non-stop propositions, and lascivious chat messages, I closed down the profile.  Even a year, and another profile name later, someone wrote me: “Hey, are you still looking for ‘serious fun’?”  Aaaaggggghhhhhh.

Once my profile would close, I would lie low for a few months recovering from the onslaught of middle aged male sleaziness.  However, hope springs eternal. Eventually a sleepless night would come and I would venture back into online dating.  Unfortunately, more disastrous  screen names followed.  I tried to sound exotic and interesting with “Krasovitsa”, which means “Pretty little one” in Russian.  However, men could not spell it, much less pronounce it, and my profile languished in its exotic loneliness.

A few months later, and on another sleepless night, I went back online again.  This time, I thought to demonstrate my multifaceted creative nature, and came up with “Funtasiya”.  Men wrote to me in droves, obviously with images of strippers and escorts dancing in their heads.

Most recently, after a year since “Funtasiya” closed its virtual doors, I decided to wade back into the dating pool.  I was determined to do it right this time, and spent quite a bit of time constructing a profile that really showed who I am.  The process took quite a while, since this site requires everyone to answer about 100 questions, and it was getting late.  Again, I wanted to make sure to be taken as an intelligent and worthwhile woman.  So under the loom of midnight, I named myself “PolyGlot”, a speaker of multiple languages.  Once again the messages came in, interestingly, many of them from couples, and many others who strongly declared themselves as strictly not monogamous.  The mystery was solved when I was asked how long I have been poly, which turns out to be short for “polyamorous”, or people who prefer to be in relationships with multiple partners.

I went back and put a disclaimer on my profile that I am not “polyamorous”, but rather a polyglot.  Unfortunately, as I wrote earlier, men often do not read, but rather click on the pretty photos.  There was one who showed promise, Ron, who is my age, an engineer, single, likes Renaissance Fairs and teaches self-defense classes on the side.  After a month of correspondence, I finally threw in the towel and closed my account when I received this from him (edited for brevity):

“Poly… well, I am currently dating two women, both of who are married. It is open and honest, their husbands know about it, but I am tired of being in relationships that have limits and that have to be secret in some circles. I went on vacation with one married couple and had to be “just a friend” in front of the woman’s sister and brother-in-law.  So I am involved in open an honest non-monogamy at this time but willing to change. I understand what you mean about it making things complicated, I find one-on-one dates easy to navigate, it is only in group situations (like when I was on vacation with the one couple) that figuring out roles can be challenging. Linda, I already know would be fine if she and I became “just friends” because of another relationship. I also still need to finalize my divorce. 

Well, this weekend is very busy. You?”

Dam right I was busy.

So what are the lessons of the story?  I am sure that I have not run out of terrible screen names, particularly not in the middle of the night.  So I am asking for your help, you know me, and I trust you, help me choose a screen name.   Any serious (just not seriously fun) ideas will be entertained.

1) Dating – More Fun with Photos

Hi everyone,

Every so often I decide to dip my toes into the online dating pool, and boy, does it run the gamut from crystal clear waters to a swamp.  On the upside,I realize how rich the world is and how many fascinating people are out there.  Even better, at our age, most have gotten tired of putting on airs and just let their real self hang out.  I am beginning to develop a theory that the older people get, on average, the more eccentric they become.  On the downside, there are also the scammers, those looking for a quick hookup, and frankly the boring and stupid ones.  Yes, I know, it is politically incorrect, but I said it.  There!  At the very least, online dating can be a source of humor and entertainment.

I recently sent out a rather unfortunate photo someone posted, and a friend’s comment compelled me to  share with you some of my observations about men and their online photos.  To be fair, I have not perused women’s online profiles, so this may be one sided, but here go some common ouch’es and yuck’s:

– The top photo pose for a man is the bathroom mirror selfie.  I always wonder if they just finished their business and thought “Boy, I feel good.  Time to take that sexy sophisticated toilet selfie”.

– A second favorite is in their car.  It is if they are declaring: “Yeah! I can drive”, and I want to ask: “Moron, was the car moving when you took this photo?”.  My favorite was of a bus driver in full uniform standing in front of his bus.  Hey, doesn’t everyone dream of dating a man in uniform?  Actually, does he know what they say about men who over-compensate by driving big cars?

– My top pet peeve, is when they take the selfie in their home, and you can see all the mess and garbage in the background.  Maybe they are looking for a woman to clean their house and they are advertising?

– Then there are the creepy ones of pictures with their children, or worse, other people’s children.

– Or the ones with them and their exes cut out.  You just see a woman’s hand, or a torso with a big black circle where the head should be.  What did those men do to these women?

– There is also the defeatist strategy of posting pictures of themselves with their much more handsome, taller, fitter friends.

– There are many more, but the worst are photos that are ten years out of date.  Invariably, they are younger, slimmer, and have lots more hair.  Yes, that happened to me more than once.  Who wants to date an insecure liar?

Well, time to check my online dating account.