IN WHICH THE HOLDING PATTERN SEEMS TO CONTINUE or ONLINE DATING FATIGUE (GASP!!!)

Does it seem possible to you that with all the enthusiasm I put into this blog (though it has been a while, and I apologize for being out of touch), that I am experiencing a little fatigue, as it were, of online dating.  Again, pull yourselves off the floor because the answer is unfortunately yes.

I had a nice two dates with the man who liked my profile on Fitness and though there were nothing wrong with either of us, and certainly, we liked each other, the rest was sort of just what it was.  Meaningless, I know, but perhaps descriptive.

I’ve been trudging through the sites, getting myself off a number of them and need to give you the tote board at this point: still on Eharmony, though couldn’t be less impressed, Match has its moments, my old stand-by OkCupid (made even more hip because Julian Assange was once on it!) and Matchmaker, which is proving also to be less than satisfactory.  I put myself on that particular site because I had received 99 messages, do you hear???  99 messages!!! and not one of any interest, either because they were writing from Wales (WHY???) or too young, too old, rode Harley’s, lived in “man-caves” and, not to seem mean-spirited, too dumb.  Yes, I know, that was mean-spirited, but for heaven sakes people, SPELL CHECK.

I’m permanently off POF and eVow.  I also decided that Jdate, for whatever reason just wasn’t making headway for me.  Perhaps, in the future, I’ll consult Yenta the Matchmaker if I really want a Jewish guy.

Which brings me to something pervasive and, frankly, annoying. I’ve written about this before, but now am joining what I hope is the good fight. 

Yes, it’s the scammers! 

Those guys (or whatever trolls these are) who post attractive, sometimes model like photos, very literate profiles designed to entice and then, when you contact them, write the most alarmingly dumb-ass drivel it has ever been my displeasure to read.  In the various different cases, I’m guessing, among other things, that English was NOT their first language, OR it is 14 and 15 year olds spending an amusing Saturday afternoon without parental supervision.   

This most recently happened three times on Match.  Since I’ve been assiduously reading up on this, I have an excellent idea of what constitutes a phony profile.  Let me give you the sad rundown.

Bachelor #1 was very good looking and affable – and charmingly photographed with a cute little dog.  However, after I contacted him, the first thing he said is to write to him at his private email.  I, knowing this BIG RED FLAG, said I'd prefer to communicate on the site. He also gushed away in the first message, saying things like he must have joined the site just so he could meet me...and that I should take a leap.  I've actually heard that before (and not just in Kierkegaard).  In his second email he said that he was in England and that he had written in his profile that he was relocating. Uh… NO.  Nothing in the profile about living in another country. However, wasn’t I lucky that he’d be moving here in about 5 weeks? Then, again, wanted to get on private email as he was "deactivating" his account that afternoon. Believe it or not, I’ve heard the 5-week number before, so I reported him.  

Prospect #2 had a nice look also and a rather sweet profile where he was pictured with his child.  When I wrote to him, he GUSHED in such fractured English that I was, to put it mildly, suspicious, since his profile had been written in normal American syntax.  I reported him.  

Hunk #3 “winked” at me.  (Have I mentioned how much I hate “winks”?  They are definitely the coward’s way out like “icebreakers”, etc., etc., I scorn them, but I think you know by now I’m a hypocrite.  So, yes, I’ve done it.)  I looked at his profile and in one sentence he said he was in Afghanistan and in the next in Iraq. He confided in the world that he couldn’t tell us what he was doing there.  He also said he was 6'11" and his pictures were date stamped 8 years ago!! I asked him if he was really 6'11" and did he realize his pictures were 8 years old?  No answer. I reported him.

I reported these three “profiles” to Match and I was correct ALL THREE TIMES.  I know, in this life there is much to be proud of, but being proud of this…well, my friends, it’s what I’ve come to… (sorry about ending that with a preposition!).

All three have been deactivated.

In other news, I keep on a daily habit of perusing the websites.  I have tried to write several times a week if not more on each one.  However, there have been no dates for a little over a week.  Maybe that’s good.  Gives me time to catch my breath and be glad it’s getting near Spring.  I am optimistic (aren’t I always) that people will emerge from their hibernation soon and wake up to the fact that it’s time to connect.

Can you blame me for feeling some dating fatigue at this point?

IN WHICH A SEEMING DRY SPELL DOES OCCUR or I GUESS I WAS WRONG ABOUT NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS

January has passed, and honestly, can’t say that I saw a plethora of men resolved to meet their beloved in the coming year.  Perhaps they’re waiting for the Chinese New Year and I didn’t get the memo.

Anyhow, the score board is now the following: Am back on eVow temporarily, waiting out this month on the Fitness Site and, yes, in the interest of completely not following my own dictums, I just got on Eharmony – again. My fellow non-blogger, Jane got it from her shoe lady at Neiman’s - she met her boyfriend on Eharmony and they’ve been dating for two years.  Again, solid gold advice.

I am very flexible, or perhaps, just without any discernable character.

So the total is: one free site and four paying, with one leaving off at the end of the month.

Phew… anyhow, one more piece of housekeeping before we soldier on…. I have noticed a very sad plague on these sites.  More than 50% of these men say they are widowers.  While a true widower is nothing to laugh about, what is it with these guys?  I’m convinced some of these see this as a high sympathy factor for bagging more babes. Otherwise, women are dying like flies and that doesn’t seem to be the case – at least it wasn’t in the news.  I can’t believe that many men in their 40’s and 50’s are widowers.  I suppose I could be wrong, but I think it’s odd.

The big report for this entry is that the guy who stood me up called again. He apologized all over the place on my voice mail and I thought, why bother if he really didn’t want to be forgiven. So, I waited a while, Serial Monogamist said to blow him off, but poor SM, I rarely listen to him do I?  So, I did call, and we made a date.

Happily, though he is a self-described cross between Howdy Doody and Ron Howard, he was nice enough to treat me to coffee.

Okay, people, pick yourselves off the floor. 

We had a nice conversation where he told me that younger guys just want to bag older babes for the gratitude factor.  You live and definitely learn.  Gratitude, I have found doesn’t go both ways at all.  However, as I said we had a nice conversation and I’m going to meet him again for drinks.

Also, met another beachboy.  He’s from somewhat further down the coast than One Syllable and we met in Santa Monica in the evening (when I look my best).  I thought he was cute however, a little more weathered than I like – that may be the result of spending his weekends playing beach volleyball.  We also had a good conversation, and I thought he was into me, but then, he seemed to fade out when he saw my car and found out I had a house.  

 I think that a woman that seems affluent, or at least fiscally responsible may need to hide it for the first couple of dates.  However, it was a nice evening and not a huge loss either way.

Trudging onward.

I’ve been researching and found out many new things.  First and foremost, that most people think that PlentyofFish is just about the most execrable site on the internet.  There is much complaining about the DOGs on that site.  I’ve learned that is an acronym of Desperate Old Guys/Gals.  I hope that is not I. 

Further, it will no doubt not shock anyone that people put loads of phony profiles on these sites.  Naïve of me, but I’m the type who thinks because I’m honest and fairly straightforward that everyone else is going to be.  I know they’re not, but I insist that I shall operate as though they are, for my peace of mind and faith in mankind, not for theirs.

Through the R + D, I found a couple of new sites.  There’s one that at least seems founded on a sense of humor for people who love British accents.  I got on that one, but have to pay to be a full member, and I’m holding off.  Then, there is one that is supposed to be the best site after Perfect Match (which I thought, frankly, disastrous), Eharmony (not liking much they keep on sending me “matches” without photos, and to be honest if I can put myself out there, so can they!), and Match.com, which isn’t all that bad.  It’s called Matchmaker.com.  I went on it, and so far, of course and again, unless you pay, no real results. 

And, could someone remind me again why people from Germany and Greenbriar, Arkansas would contact me?

Lo and behold, someone nice has contacted me on the Fitness site.  Seems he loved what I said about people on the site.  That is, if they didn’t spend as much time tending to themselves as my kitty, I would give them a chance.  Since then he’s written me several nice and extremely literate emails.  He’s out of town, he says, but it seems that we might actually meet when he returns.  In addition, a guy from very close by has contacted me as well.  Geographically desirable because of oft-mentioned LA traffic is such a good thing!

Well all seems a little in a holding pattern at this point, perhaps there will be good things to report soon… I’m naïve enough (see above) to hope so!

IN WHICH I LEARN MANY THINGS ABOUT ONLINE ETIQUETTE or SOME PLAYDATES

Scoreboard: Got off POF… for all it’s a rather a cute name for a dating site, it just doesn’t appeal to me –I can't put my finger on it, but there’s just something faintly unsavory about it. Also, hid my profile on eVow. Less unsavory than its sister site, but nevertheless, I’m just not convinced the clientele on those sites are as serious about this as I am.

So those of you keeping up here, I’m down to 4 sites, and have decided to give up the Fitness one as well when my subscription runs out next month.  It’s an odd thing about the Fitness site, though you would think physical activity is so immediate, I’m getting messages from guys all over the world.  Don’t really know how we could be running partners.  Not bearing fruit, so we don’t waste time we move on.

January has been somewhat productive.  Possible meet up with another man of the Emerald Isle in February, actually quite cute, so keep fingers crossed.  However, lest we forget our lessons about follow up, deciding to meet up next month is like 10 years in online dating years.  However, we are friends on Facebook so I may be able to guilt him into follow through – if, by then, I have any inclination to do so.

Have had some dates to discuss. 

The first one was several weeks ago, and sadly a little fraught.  Met a producer/ lawyer at my favorite spot, I’ll call him Fish Lips for reasons that will soon become obvious.  Got there on time and bought my own libation as usual, sigh, almost forgetting what it’s like to be chivalrously served.  Didn’t look like the guy was there and then I saw him sitting outside, looking like he was half asleep and waiting for the bus. He certainly wasn’t anxiously looking for his date.

Thought at least the conversation would be interesting and to be fair it was, but ugh, the odious habits some people have! I was being bright, breezy, entertaining, practicing all my charm skills, basically because I didn’t give a rat’s butt and he was just sitting there, as though in a light coma, saying “riiiiight”, drawing out the word in an almost demented fashion.  And when he wasn’t talking, he was breathing in the exact manner of a goldfish, it was nearly disconcerting, and I had to concentrate very hard not to giggle while watching his lips sucking up oxygen, and blowing out invisible bubbles.

That was over again, not quite as quickly as Fire Boy since, as I said, we did have an interesting conversation.  He told me some of the movies he’d been involved in, and I did check him out on IMDb.  As well, have to say that he posted loads of photographs with himself and political luminaries on his profile -- probably off-putting if you’re in the opposite party or not interested in such things.  It also struck me as being nearly as lame as Fire Boy telling me about his party with that 60’s celebrity that I didn’t mention or even remotely care about; but again, to be fair, only nearly.

There is no help for people who can’t stand on their own merits.

Hazarding a guess that you won’t be surprised that since my journey started in June, which is now about 6 months old, I was stood up a second time last weekend.  Guy very nice on the phone, seemed eager, called a bunch of times and have to say I didn’t have phone on, but I did return all phone calls.  However, he didn’t show up to meet where we had planned.  I wasn’t upset, as I said before, how could I be, it’s hardly personal when they’ve never met you.

As Queen Victoria said during the Boer War, (to paraphrase) there is no one depressed here.

The last week has been pleasant.  I met a lovely young guy, early 40’s, for a coffee/green tea date in an extremely agreeable locale.  Not my usual Coffee Bean but a charming café.  I’ll call him John Boy, though luckily he didn’t have the distracting mole on his face (a Walton’s reference for any of you puzzled).  Sadly, he was boyish, and I am questing currently for mannish, so it was just a pleasant interlude.  However, we got together again for a nice afternoon jaunt in a bookstore and a little window-shopping so not all is horror.  And, the youthful injection continues to be a boost to my ego.  That, however, may not last long.

Had a great conversation with another of the younger set last night and learned many things that I hadn’t considered.  I had made it a rule to answer all queries and emails.  Evidently I am completely wrong in this.  According to this fellow, whom I’ll call AK41, it’s actually ruder to answer if you’re not interested.  My friend, Serial Monogamist, had told this to me initially, but I wasn’t taking his word for it.  According to AK41, it’s more hurtful to reply and time wasting as well.  So, there blows my theory that people should be as polite online as they are in real life.

He also instructed me that not only are men out to bag babes (his words, about which I found out to my sadness with One Syllable), but evidently, women in their 20’s and 30’s are behaving just as women in my generation did in my 20’s and 30’s – without, I should caution the assurance that no deadly STD’s will be passed about.  As someone who worked for an AIDs charity for over thirteen years, I really don’t get this at all.  AK41 told me that one woman who had shown interest in him was dating five other fellows, sleeping with two of them and deciding which one had the most money for possible marriage.  I am sad to hear about such post-feminist venality.

One last story that doesn’t have anything to do with me is one told by Serial Monogamist.  He’s had great success on the dating sites as he’s an attractive man of a certain age.  He’s as picky as I am, but doing quite well.  Well, a few weeks ago he began dating a tall, blonde lawyer who, after seeing him twice, took herself off of Match.  When he told me this, I did think it slightly precipitous, but I thought, whatever – as one does.  At any rate, she was supposed to come to his place for dinner, said she had to be in court for several days, didn’t respond to emails, phone calls, then said she’d call and hasn’t done so.  Oddly, this sounds like typically male behavior to me.  Baffling, bewildering, inconceivable, only begin to describe it.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that not only women suffer this but perhaps it’s a weird product of this unbelievably wacky way of trying to connect with others.

No worries, I press on.

IN WHICH I GREATLY EXPAND MY HORIZONS or MASSIVE JOINING OF OTHER SITES

It’s official.  I’ve taken off the gloves and am throwing more caution to the wind than even before.  Is this getting repetitive?  Do I continue to inch forward until I have just about teetered over the precipice?  Will I soon take leave of my senses entirely?  If I do, dear readers, it is not from abject desperation but from grit, single-minded resolve and utter determination.

I have joined a another pay site and am now not only a member of Match, but of FitnessSingles – a site wholly dedicated to people looking for running partners, people with good chests (both male and female), and mostly people who photograph as though they leave their couches periodically. 

No, you naysayers, I am not shallow for being on that site.  As I say in my brief profile (not much be said!), as long as people don’t spend 98% of their day tending to themselves the way my little cat does, I will happily agree that these are people who care about their health and appearance.  I will allow that they eat their Wheaties, exercise and breathe deeply, as well as all those other things that health conscious people appear to do.  

Mind you, only if you are naïve enough and new enough to the game to think that those photos are current. 

Never fear, I have not left my favorite freebie, OkCupid though, frankly apart from a pen pal in New York, a gentleman who wrote obscene suggestions in Esperanto and a man in New Mexico who insists on telling me bad Jewish jokes and giving me weather reports – I am sad to report that the site has yielded very little.

Oh, and just one thing from Match that got my goat – and the animal metaphor will continue in a second. Get an email from a 75 (!!!) year old guy.  Wasn’t sure if he hadn’t written to me before, but he was going to take the chance even though I had said I wanted to go a little younger.  I seemed to him too elegant and intelligent to be a cougar.  I was so annoyed when I got this.  I wrote back and said yes he had written to me, the jerk, and told him to think of it this way... he’s 18 years older than me, does that make him a cougar??? GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

As well, while on the notorious POF, I signed onto an offshoot of said site called Evow for people who are interested in committed relationships, the good ole LTR’s.  As if in a Greek Chorus, I hear you cry, get away from POF, but no worries, this one is less horrible than its sister site. 

Talk about commitment-phobes, I can’t even commit to one dating site.  In the spirit of more being more, I’ve cast my net wider, I went back on Jdate as well. So if you’re keeping score that’s three paying sites, and WTF, un-hid my profile on POF. Eeeeck, general consensus is, I know, but I am maximizing just for these next couple of months with the, I think, intelligent notion that maybe someone somewhere is making a New Years Resolution!

I think that I will have to keep index cards on all of this as my fellow non-blogger Alessa suggested.  But as massively as I’m throwing out the net, I realize that the online dating world is getting smaller and smaller.  I do see a lot of the same guys on these different sites.  I momentarily wonder what they’re doing on so many sites when I remember the mantra, they just wanna get laid.  So, I realize that even more caution (you know, that which I just threw to the wind) needs to be exercised.

Not to mention continuing to want a do-over with One Syllable.

So now that you are aware of how utterly pathetic I am, read on anyway.

I had been out of town for about a week and already the maximum exposure was garnering results.  Several guys on the Fitness site thought I was in excellent shape, a 40 year old on Match thought I was dangerously beautiful.  Yes, I promise, I ain’t falling for it, though it does fall trippingly and most pleasantly upon the ear.  Even dreadful POF was active, although to be honest was not particularly enthused about going on there a lot.  But the sister site Evow seems quite fruitful.

Like everything else, though, what I had predicted from the beginning continued to be true.  Most of the contacts were one to two emails.  It seemed as though they just wanted to get their toes wet and then jump back. 

With one person I’ll call Tanning Bed Guy for a really unhealthy irradiated look, I was thinking about how I wanted to respond.  I’ve made it a rule that I will respond out of common courtesy though my serial monogamist friend had told me that there was no need to answer queries in which I wasn’t interested.  Such boorishness is not in my character.  I simply wouldn’t be as dismissive as many are since I think that the Internet isn’t a license to be impolite or cruel.  However, because I had taken longer than he liked, Tanning Bed blasted me for being rude.

I didn’t take this personally either, and told him he had to grow a thicker skin.  Then I got a long sob story about the death of his father (which I could relate to) and how he wasn’t doing as well as he thought. I started doing my usual thing, which is to soothe, and realized I’m not this guy’s therapist or his mother.  Compassion I will certainly give, but the next email wanted more, and I thought – NO.

I believe and hope that January will be interesting as I think I’m really right about the New Years Resolution thing.  So until then, Happy New Year to everyone who has been kind enough to read my blathering.  I am an optimist and think that 2011 will yield all kinds of treats!

IN WHICH I AM MADLY DASHING AROUND TRYING TO APPEAR BUSY AS THE HOLIDAYS APPROACH or DRY SPELL

I cheerfully acknowledge that I haven’t had a date in weeks. I say this cheerfully because there is no other way to say it.

I have been busy communicating and saying hello, people respond and then let it go as I predicted they would, but I am determined. I am not discouraged, and anyway what’s the point?  The sidewalks will soon be closing up here in LA.  It’s a known fact that no one can manage to do anything here for virtually the entire month of December.

But I go on, I persevere.

I am busy pursuing volunteer opportunities, even inspired to get into macho fields of law enforcement or the fire department because of the basic philosophy -- go where the men are.  Oddly, I’ve spent so many years in the halls of academia, and have to say that that hasn’t exactly been a treasure trove of dating possibilities – au contraire.  The only ones that seemed to want to date me were my students, and I wasn’t prepared for that particular infraction, flattering though it was at times.  And no, I don’t think they were doing it because they wanted a better grade.  I’m an easy grader anyway.

So the day goes and lo and behold, a communication from Match. Fireboy, I’ll call him, wants to get together.  Seems articulate enough wrote self-effacing emails, and featured himself in fire fighting gear, though he is not a firefighter per se.  I said to myself okay, I’m sort of liking this type: a little brawn some brains but nothing too challenging, and so I bite. 

Another admission here and don’t worry, it’s not a big deal.

After a couple of emails, I get impatient because it’s either meet or begin writing an autobiography, and frankly, it never pays off as far as I can tell.  I begin with interesting details about myself and then when I meet these guys, not only haven’t they read it, but even if by some fluke they have taken the time, it is painfully obvious that they have not digested the more fascinating minutia, and are certainly not ready for testing. 

Fireboy sends me his number, I send him mine, then I let him call so that I can hear his voice.  Oh! woe is me, not that velvet chocolaty voice of One Syllable – sadly that is rare, I’m beginning to find.  However, pleasant enough and I suppose, worth me returning the call when I feel like it.

Which I do, a decent interval later.

This one was trying to impress me with facts such as he had been in the Fire Station in my area, and had been to a holiday party there with, yes,  __________________ (fill in 60’s celebrity name) … not that I asked.  One very solid rule about LA is that people here are cool about celebrities, and we certainly don’t try to impress each other with knowing this one or that one.

We agree to meet and I get off the phone and, folks, I’m just not feeling it.  He isn’t the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, and I had a suspicion he wasn’t hiding that light under a bushel either.

However, I am dogged and unwavering.

As much as I don’t really want to go, I do go.  It’s yet a third coffee bean… LA is full of ‘em.  There’s even another couple behind us in line also meeting for the first time.  I buy my own tea – he doesn’t even offer, but I always feel better doing this, so they don’t expect something in return.  In return, I hear you cry, is this a barter situation?  You just never know, do you??

Okay so not attracted to him from the get-go.  However, I am firm in my intention that he will at least enjoy the short time we spend together -- very short.  We sit outside as it is still nice and sunny and I begin to question him as I feel that if I don’t, I’ll have to finish up my tea in the car going home.

I find that the easiest opener is to ask them about their experiences on Match or other dating sites.  I find they like a sympathetic listener and love to complain about all the lies they were told before meeting some unfortunate woman or other.

I do so, and get to listen to the fact that he has unashamedly been on Yahoo personals for six years.  He has, he confided to me, dated an actress, though, he added, she won’t remember him.  (Believe me, I won’t remember him tomorrow, either.)  He told me how one person had stood him up, so I encouraged him with my story of the ill-fated luncheon.  He seemed outraged about the fact that he ended up paying for a meal for another woman, and dubious about her promise to pay the next time.  Obviously, there wasn’t going to be a next time.  Hence, I am penalized, I realize, with having to foot the bill for my own tea.  Perhaps, the woman was depressed that they met at Four and Twenty Pies – not, in my estimation the coolest of dating destinations.

He asks me nothing about myself. 

While he is talking, I notice the dirty fingernails and worse the fact that he is looking at his watch first.  I feel free, then, to start wondering when I can end our obvious mutual agony.  Luckily, it seems that his meter was in danger of running out, and we said goodbye.  With great relief I called my fellow (evidently) non-blogger, Jane and said with a huge giggle in a high school voice, “OMG, he was SO boring.”

Sad how we revert, isn’t it?

IN WHICH I DATE MANY PEOPLE or ENTR’ ACTE

Now that it was actually necessary for me to write a profile, I wanted to write one that was interesting, alluring, showed how involved I was in countless different and exciting activities and of course one that would show all my sterling character traits. 

There are so many.

This profile had to captivate, it had to exude charm and be glamorous as well as showing me to be very down to earth.  It had to show that I was as good in jeans as I was in a cocktail dress (this is said ALL THE TIME), and it had to show that I was mysterious, appealing as well as a good sport ready to pitch a tent in the middle of the wilderness – in other words, a fair impossibility.

The photos were there for that, I hear you cry, but, no, I want to convey more than just outer… the outer had made me too impetuous, and frankly, had me act completely out of character.  I explain it away as a result of too many chick flicks and too many cheerleading friends who were saying go for it. Sorry, that sounds like I’m not taking responsibility for my behavior, but I totally am.

We won’t dwell.

I took my time, tried to use my wit, the questions on the profile were as good as these things can be.  (I’m still of the opinion that no one really reads the profiles, they look at the photographs, full stop.)  The questions weren’t really intrusive since nothing today is intrusive.  In a society where people are ready to admit on television that they molested their pet monkeys, certainly no one would balk at questions like “what’s the most private thing you’ll admit”,  “name six things you can’t live without” or “what do you think about all the time”. 

Honestly, I mostly wonder if time travel is possible, but I also wonder if that is something one should admit in a dating profile.  Nevertheless, I wrote on fearlessly, used quotes from many movies, chick flicks once again, and decided very definitely to be proactive. Luckily, in none of the profiles I read was there a mention of a pet monkey, so I was safe.

However, prepare yourselves for a confession.

I decided to maximize my computer and got on a pay site.  Yes, I know what I said about paying for non-follow-through as opposed to not paying for it, but, I got caught in the silly idea if they were paying they might be more serious and possibly even consistent.   I quickly learned the ugly truth which was there is very little difference in the level of commitment.  

I had a luncheon date with a guy who was going to drive out from Ventura, his choice.  I waited, waited, waited, called, waited, and he didn’t show, and never explained.  Somehow this was all hard to take personally, and you’ll be glad to know I didn’t.  I went back to the site and blocked him.  However, it was all beyond perplexing.  Behavior like this makes the secrets of the universe seem elementary.

My next encounter was a very sweet young guy in his 30’s who told me that his fiancée, who had been killed in a car crash, was older than I.  You can’t make this stuff up folks. Anyhow we had a nice cup of coffee together while he told me he was still living with his parents and was about to go on disability. Uh – no.

I would have opted out of Match after a month had not my fellow bloggers (and you will hear from them at some point, they are busy having lives) not urged me to stay on the site on which they were currently residing.

Well, back to business.  I began my search, slightly younger as I’ve said but put the range through to my age just to be fair.  I looked through profiles, and honestly, how many bare-chested men and mug shots can anyone look through? I have learned that men don’t seem to worry as much about flattering photographs as women.  If they are vain, they show their toned chests without shirts (this may be a California thing, but I’ve seen enough of it to think it might be a trend).  Otherwise, they are frowning at the camera, hair often uncombed, doing some undefined activity – not the pleasurable shopping experience many of you may think. 

We won’t discuss spell-check.

As well, have to tell you there are spammers on Match who call themselves something different put up the same pictures, or picture of male models and say the exact same things about themselves in several profiles.  Why they want to do this is anyone’s guess. Their estimation of the average intelligence on this site was a little discouraging. 

I, myself, got contacted by the same guy with two different names, who wanted my email address right away so he could write to me privately. The excuse is that they are soon going off the site (in other words, they were using a FREEBIE!). I’m ashamed to say that I fell for this exactly twice. 

One guy said he was in Afghanistan and was a Lt. Colonel.  Initially, with the photos he sent, it sounded fairly legit and he was halfway attractive, so I thought I’d do my bit for God and Country and correspond with him.  However, his letters got lamer and lamer, as though English wasn’t his first language.  He told me that his child (he was supposedly divorced) was with his lawyer in England.  Why?  Who the hell knows? Eventually he became very angry with me for asking questions and googling him as he said he didn’t want anyone in his business…I not sure where that might have placed me.

Several days later, I got virtually the same email under a different name with the same exhortation to write him at a private email address.  This time I got smart and reported it to the powers-that-be who promptly took both of them off of the web site.

In the midst of these struggles, I did date about two different guys from the Cupid Site and a couple from Match.  They were nice pleasant men, some young, some older, but sadly in all cases there was just no chemistry. 

That elusive element that I captured on my first try I simply haven’t repeated in the several months since.  I know it’s rare, and I know I was lucky and one of my girlfriends said that some people never feel that. I don’t feel lucky, though.  I feel that the fates were rather unkind to me to give me that taste and then snatch it away.  It is as Hugh Grant said in Notting Hill: I feel like I was given love heroin and I can never have it again.

IN WHICH I SILENTLY PRAY FOR A “RE-DO” OR CODA GRAVE E SERIOSO.

I made a capital error, as Mr. Rochester might say. In the short attention span of dating (or is it the short attention span of younger men?), I left town. I had the trip scheduled for months and we know that these days airlines will have you killed if you try to change or cancel a ticket.  So, I went out of the country for two and a half weeks.  How was I to know that would spell the death knell of the great affair I was preparing to have (IN MY HEAD!)?

I texted One Syllable when I came home and was immediately brushed aside with the news that he had guests for the weekend.  At the time ready to swallow any line, I was, nevertheless, chomping at the bit.  I had enough self-restraint to wait until the weekend was over, but eager to see the man, I texted and he texted and I flirted and he flirted.  

I wasn’t suspicious or aware of any slackening of emotion.  How could there be… what about all those fulsome compliments?  What about that mighty attraction? Surely if someone says things like that to you, they mean them?  Those thoughts and feelings don’t dissipate just because you’ve been absent without leave for a short time.

Well, you can all intuit the sorry end of this experiment in living happily in the fantasy world, called by my fellow blogger, Jane, ILANALAND.  I will spare you, gentle reader, the details since I resolved when writing this blog, to say only things my Grandma Gussie would be able to read (of course Grandma Gussie and I went to see Women in Love and a host of “R” rated films together, but nonetheless….). 

I did see him one more time, some wishes were fulfilled, but it was an odd encounter at best and we shall draw a discreet, gauzy veil on the episode.  I will say that younger men seem less clued in about the feminine psyche than older ones.  Of course that isn’t always true, but let us just say that it was true in these circumstances. 

He later emailed me that he had met someone from the Old Neighborhood, and though there were “red flags” (red flags you say?), he was going to be patient.  Do I hear all the collective groaning?  Yes, of course I do.  What happened to “dating, nothing serious”?  Obviously, a lame excuse to get rid of poor bewildered and thoroughly bamboozled me. A few more emails passed between us, I was puzzled and hurt (REALLY HURT).

Nevertheless, in the middle of that mystifying, wholly dissonant situation, another dating opportunity presented itself.  I don’t want all of you to get depressed, and so we’re moving on.

Yet another young buck presented himself and claiming interest in the mature woman, wanted to meet.  I now kinda liked the idea of a younger man.  I wasn’t feeling this in a cougar, predatory sort of way since predatory is about the last descriptor anyone would use for me. (In passing, why does “cougar” have a negative connotation while if a 60 year old man gets jiggy with a 25 year girl old it’s all “atta-boy”?) Editor’s note: for the record, I have nothing at all against cougars; it’s just not my style.

For me, it was that visual thing again.  Guys in their forties and early fifties just didn’t look as decrepit as the men my age were looking – this with the possible exception of Richard Dean Anderson or Harrison Ford.

This candidate was a year or so older than One Syllable. I had seen him around on the various dating sites in the past, we were going to meet up, we almost did, we talked and then nothing ever happened.  But this time, I wanted to get though my sincere disappointment and pushed it. 

Really, we’re MOVING ON.

Met again at my favorite coffee place (but a different branch) no reminders, my friends, and I got myself some green tea and a scone and just waited.  I admit that normally I try to be a little late so that the guy is there before me, but he was slightly tardy (sorry, that from my school teacher days).  But I was up for a new wind to blow…another shot across my bow, climbing that mountain top that would make me forget, and…jeez getting a little carried away here.

He walked in and UGH.  I’m sorry but major UGH.  Shirt out, jeans baggy, some kind of golfing or perhaps what they used to called a driving hat on head and a face broken out in some kind of indescribable yet not deadly rash.  I don’t blame him for the rash, that isn’t his fault (unless of course it was caused by some awful lack of hygiene, but I was sitting across from him, downwind I should think, so I don’t know).  I will say this: he was a complete slob, looked like he had just rolled out of bed and hadn’t taken the slightest trouble to doll up for date with “absolutely beautiful” his words.  At least now I didn’t believe that stuff.

REALLY WE’RE MOVING ON.

Nothing there, unsurprisingly; there was nada chemistry not a dash, not a soupcon, not a scintilla (this is all terribly multilingual).  We had a pleasant chat; we each waited for our turn to talk (oh, just so you know, One Syllable didn’t do much of that…I was waiting for him to say “just the facts ma’am”). Slob asked me a question about what we’d talked about at the end of the evening, and frankly, it had fascinated me so not at all I forgot and probably answered incorrectly.  So, once again, very unsurprisingly, there was nothing said about meeting again.

MOVING ON.

I admit to some intermittent backsliding, some blue days, some days when I wanted to email, text, call, send smoke signals, ANYTHING to One Syllable.  But, I was strong, and eventually, I really did stop hurting.  I still think about him, but I have, for the most part, MOVED ON.

Took myself very quickly off of POF, especially when I saw that he had also done so.  I was rooting around his profile in my backsliding days, still looking at his complimentary messages and texts, but forced myself to get back on the horse.

My cousin recommended that I get on another free site called www.okcupid.com.  He said that there was a somewhat better selection process, (read a selection process); that people were asked questions which they could choose to answer or not and suggested matches (known as Quiver Matches, sigh) were gleaned from those questions.  Since I was still determined not to pay for the non-follow through, I took a look. I thought it seemed like a classier site than POF (actually, anything, including porn, would be a classier site than POF) and got busy.