For me, the world of internet dating has been an odyssey for sure. I didn’t start at the shoreline, gingerly walking out into the surf. I galloped like a race horse and plunged right in from the Steel Pier.
I tried to be accurate with my description and images for my profile. The first lady I met was very pleasant. She described her body type as – ATHLETIC. Not to be unkind, but it was a bit of an embellishment. I think she probably meant she was a fan of the Oakland Athletics (baseball team). I was next hijacked by a number juggler at an Italian restaurant. Her profile said 57, she was closer to 75. Her profile picture was probably captured by famed Civil War photographer Matthew Brady.
The hobbies some of these gals had were a bit intimidating – surfing, lobster diving in the Keys, sailing, mountain climbing, kayaking, and horseback riding. I immediately went to my profile and edited out playing horseshoes while smoking a stogie and drinking a warm Genesee Cream Ale. I confidently changed it to – fencing! A few of these delightful women had some grandiose expectations for a first date. One wanted to be jetted out to Napa Valley for lunch and wine! I countered with a box lunch and a narrated tour of Love Canal New York. Other ladies merely sought, “A man that can make me laugh.”I dusted off my vintage, Shecky Green mono albums for material to fine tune my comic chops.
I wasn’t much of a participant of the free love moment of the sixties and seventies. More than a few of my dates were too frisky, too soon. Glad I visited the locksmith to have my chastity belt altered. Another was possessive and jealous with a mere seven hours logged on our collective trip computer. She was like a heat seeking relationship missile, and I was thrilled I avoided her determined trajectory.
I’m not a great catch, but have a basic skill set and familiarity with manners. One date polished off beers like a Mid-Western fraternity pledge. She then cleaned food fragments with a mint flavored toothpick! I prudently opted out of the goodbye peck. Another gal wasn’t a conversationalist, she was a talker. The only dead air was when her fork was inserted into her mouthpiece. Me, I replicated the dusty, spring loaded Eric Mould’s Buffalo Bill bobble head on my shelf, I did a lot of nodding.
I learned that the whole website is akin to a huge used car emporium. The site offers candidates that, “want to meet you.” A good dialogue is usually established, and then the trail mysteriously goes dead. The prospects probably moved on to newer, sleeker models on the lot. I have to admit, I am guilty of this callous pattern as well.
In my short time on the sight it’s replicated a convention of unrequited love. That is life in general but there seems to be more urgency when one possesses an AARP card. I fell like a ton of bricks for the one I was convinced was “the one.” The only one, was the date, one and done, she ‘didn’t feel the spark.’ Her proclamation stung worse than an attack from a squadron of hornets. In the affairs of the heart, bless all the seekers stepping up at the plate (as opposed to the vanquished warming up a TV dinners alone). To me the process is akin to the beachside treasure seekers with their metal detectors. I am confident that with perseverance and optimism, I’ll find my elusive treasure.