It took me six years after the split from my ex to consider
dating again. Dating in your forties is a whole different trip to the salon
than dating in your twenties. I never had a problem meeting eligible men when I
was younger. It was like an all-you-can-eat buffet of males every day of the
week. If I didn’t like one dish, I’d try another. It was that simple.
Now that I’m forty-something and living in the suburbs,
dating has become more challenging. Half of the men I meet are married, which
doesn’t seem to deter them from making a pass at me (Ah, the cliché of the
single desperate horny mother).
The other half are boys in their early twenties (Ah, the
cliché of the desperate horny cougar).
Since neither of these choices work well for me, I was
forced to resort to online dating. Now call me old-fashioned, but the process
of a man posting a photo, which may or may not be from ten years ago, and
writing only the best qualities he has to offer a woman seems a bit
manufactured to me. I always want to ask, Gee, if you’re such a great
communicator, and you’re thoughtful, loving and loyal, then why in the hell
are you divorced?
If that many people truly loved taking long walks on the beach,
wouldn’t it be ultimately too crowded to do so? All these newbie couples still
in the honeymoon stages of their relationships squeezing past each
other, muttering, “Pardon me, excuse me.”
When I posted my profile for the first time on a dating
site, I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of responses. It was like throwing
out chum and immediately experiencing a shark-infested feeding frenzy. I don’t
think it had anything to do with me personally. My new profile simply signified
fresh meat on the market.
Some of the messages I received were genuine; a few men
actually took the time to write more than two sentences, rather than the
standard, “Hey, what’s up? Wanna chat?” or my personal favorite: “Ur really
hot.” But the men of “substance” were usually looking for a wife, and the men
who weren’t looking for a wife were looking to donate sperm to numerous female “banks.”
The entire process is one giant crap shoot. You are choosing
to pursue someone based on what they have written, and what they have written
only describes (what they think are) their finest qualities. Wouldn’t we have a
much better chance of finding a compatible mate if we laid it ALL out there –
the good, the bad and the ugly?
Here’s how my profile should read on eReality.com.
Single forty-something white woman with one child
seeking the man of her dreams, or at the very least, a man whose profile isn’t full of typos.
I am a very good listener, except in the morning
before I’ve had my coffee. Talk to me before I’ve had at least half a
cup of java and you will suffer my wrath.
I love to cook, except when I’m tired and hungry.
Then you must get some food into me and fast, or you will suffer my wrath.
I’m affectionate and giving, except for the one
week out of the month when I am PMSing. Believe me when I tell you,
you WILL suffer my wrath.
I love to dress up, as long as you take me out.
If you never take me out, be prepared to see me wearing sweats and a tee.
Love sex, except between the hours of 1-9 am. If you wake me
in the middle of my REM sleep expecting some, you will suffer my wrath.
I’m great with children, which loosely
translated means, my son comes first.
I’m ambitious, which loosely translated means,
my writing comes second.
If you demand too much of my time and attention
so that it takes away from my first two priorities, you will suffer my wrath.
You must love cats, because I have 7. I also
have a yappy diva Chihuahua, who sleeps with me. And birds, that don’t sleep
with me, but chirp very, very loudly throughout the day.
If you have any unresolved issues with
addiction, porn, money, your ex or your mother, please seek elsewhere.
Now if I ever do pledge till death do us part, my husband
can’t accuse me ten years down the line of not being the woman he married. By
laying it all out on the table from the get-go, no one will be disappointed when
all that’s at the end of the rainbow is a pot of soup.