Tag Archives: dating over 50

Booted Off Of OKCupid…Again

Apologies (again) for my absence. It’s been a busy month! Hopefully happy news soon. I felt compelled to post today, despite the craziness, because I’ve been booted off of OKCupid. Again!

The first time it happened I wasn’t given a reason. They never even responded to my emails asking why. I forged on, created a new profile, figuring perhaps posting party invites to strangers had pissed someone off. This time, however, I sent an email asking why I’d gotten the boot and received a response:

Hi Abby,
I have reviewed your profile and unfortunately you have been banned. I’m very sorry, but solicitation of any sort is a violation of our usership policy. Thank you for your continued interest in OKCupid, but the decision to ban you is irreversible.
Yours truly,
Emilia

Um. SOLICITING? For what? Sex? Isn’t that the whole point of online dating? Okay, being serious now. I was most definitely not soliciting. Anything. Because, believe me, if I were, they’d know it. I don’t do anything vaguely. Here’s my profile, as it stood at last edit:

Please be open to MEETING and the possibility of being FRIENDS. Finding that elusive “chemistry” is rare. But I can honestly say that every man I’ve “befriended” on this site now has a far more exciting and interesting life than he did before meeting me. If you don’t believe that, I’d be happy to connect you for an honest conversation. Who doesn’t want to expand their social circle? The chances of finding romance online aren’t the best. Meeting new people will always result in meeting MORE new people. Meaning, if you and I don’t “click” perhaps you might with a friend of mine. Or I will with a friend of yours. It’s a big world. If that sounds appealing to you, please read on!

A very close friend died recently and it has made me reevaluate. I am not desperate, just determined. If you can’t meet up within a week of us contacting each other, please don’t bother. Life is too fucking short. I’m tired of this site and I’ve never been a fan of dating.

So there you have it. Let’s meet, figure out of we want to fuck each other and take it from there, shall we? Seriously. That’s about all it boils down to.

It doesn’t matter a damn what music you like or what you read. You’ll be on your side of the bed reading what you read and I’ll be on my side of the bed reading what I read. I’ll listen to whatever the hell you want to listen to. Food? Whatever. It’s sustenance, not an art form. For me, anyway. Happy to consume your art form, if that’s your thing. Happier to consume your thing. Haha!

Anyway, none of you read this shit. You look at the photo, think, “Yeah, I’d fuck that,” and you click. I wish it were as simple for women. It’s more simple when I’m less sober. So let’s see who responds to THIS version of my “profile.”

The rest of the profile is pretty much the same as it’s been for ages. After six long years of receiving dick pix and “I’d fuck that”s, between the big bellies and bigger egos, selfies with dirty toilets in the background and dudes who couldn’t spell their way out of a paper bag, not to mention the hundreds — HUNDREDS — of scammers and fake profiles and total wastes of time, I’m embarrassed that I was even still on the damn site. Well, now I’m not. Because some asshat decided I was “soliciting.”

That is not only fucking hilarious, it is decidedly uninformed. Hey OKCupid! Here’s what soliciting looks like:

“Hi, my name is Abby. I’m 55 years old (almost 56). My flesh is hanging off my bones like wet laundry. My wrinkles are deep enough for you to white water raft through. I can count the number of times I’ve gotten laid in the last five years on one hand. I really don’t have much of a libido anymore and the thought of sucking some dude’s cock makes me want to retch. Ready to pay me for my sexual services? I’m having a big sale this week! Hurry, my time is running out!”*

Aside from the fact that “soliciting” is illegal, my profile’s verbiage made no mention of money. However, here are a few links to women who are offering their companionship for cash. Since you’re running a dating site and not an escort site, perhaps you need to learn the difference.
Slixa
Eros
Oymotherfuckingvey!

* Oh, and bee-tee-dubs, that paragraph up there is satire. It is NOT intended to be taken seriously as solicitation. Not that any rightminded person would…

Patina

I no longer have regular TV. Meaning I don’t have cable or network television. I can’t just flip on the box and watch whatever is on. Which means I’ve joined the legions of Netflix binge-watchers. I’ve gone through every available episode of Orange is the New Black, House of Cards and Mad Men. I’ve finished the complete Breaking Bad. Soooo good! I’m as caught up as I can be on Downton Abbey and Walking Dead and sat through the first two seasons (do they even call them that anymore?) of American Horror. My current obsession is Sons of Anarchy. I watch at least two or three episodes a day. Er, night.

SPOILER ALERT! If you have any intention of watching SOA, stop reading now!

Two nights ago I watched “Laying Pipe,” in which the Opie character is killed off. I wept. This could, of course, be attributed to my current state of mind. And heart. But apparently it struck other viewers as equally sad. The show’s producer, Kurt Sutter, was questioned about this plot twist and explained himself here. Even the actors were profoundly upset by the character’s death. If you haven’t watched the show and have no intention to, I’ll tell ya: they kill people off at a pretty quick clip. Like one person episode. Or every few minutes. It’s bloody fucking brutal.

It also has a Shakespearean beauty. Even while the characters are hurtling toward their presumably violent ends, their passion is riveting. The passion, for me, became even more riveting when Jimmy Smits joins the cast in Season 5. Waking up after a drunken one-night stand, Gemma pulls a gun on “Nero Padilla”  as he’s coming out of the bathroom. Their subsequent conversation — and sober reacquaintance — had me hanging on every word. He’s running an escort service and when Gemma questions his interest in her while surrounded by “young pussy” (or something to that effect), he says, “I prefer a patina on my precious metals.” Gulp. So good. As my friend Sandra wondered, where are all the guys like that on OKCupid?

I’ve complained before about 50-something men not only wanting 30-something women but getting them. I guess if a guy is fit and financially solvent, why shouldn’t he be fucking a trophy chick? Most women over 50 not only can’t hold the interest of 30-something men but wouldn’t want to. We want a patina on our precious metals as well. Of course, we can do without the 100 extra pounds and bald pate. Just as much as men can do without saggy breasts, I suppose. Who likes to be reminded of their mortality? Talk about a turn-off…

I see “older” couples and marvel at how much older the women look than the men. And am I being “ageist?” How is this possible? Is it that when people are coupled, the women age faster? Care less about their appearance? In the world of being single and “older,” the dynamic is decidedly different. The women — myself included — do everything they can to maintain their youth. At least within their means. I’d be in South America getting a facelift in a New York minute if I could afford it. Actually, an everything lift would be pretty great! We hit the gym and wear clothes that highlight our assets. No “mom” jeans. I don’t know anyone who has succumbed to their grey hair, coupled or single. 

We drag our asses out to as many social situations as we can stomach. We smile and nod, shake hands and listen intently to the nervous, let-me-impress-you ramblings of strangers like virginal schoolgirls. All in the hopes of a second date. Or being asked out on a first one. Sigh. If only Kurt Sutter could write me into his next show. I may fantasize about Opie but I’d gladly accept the patina of Jimmy Smits!

Beautiful Music?

I’ve been doing my best to keep busy and inadvertently made myself a little too busy. On Thursday I had not one but two OKCupid dates. In my effort to remain positive, I’ll say the first man provided me with an exercise in listening. Even though he is retired, he spoke quite a bit about his (former) job. He even uttered the words “When I was in college…” He wasn’t as interesting as he sold himself to be in his profile and there wasn’t any chemistry but I guess he wasn’t…horrible. (How’s that for trying to be positive?) Or a drinker. Which I (perhaps sadly) find to be an obstacle. He is new to the city and will soon discover that bars are our living rooms. Probably even more so since he lives with his daughter and her family. There’s only so far a date can go over one cup of tea. But he professed his desire to “try new things” so I’ll gladly offer him a few — at least of the less alcohol based variety — even though it has been my experience that men who are eager to “try new things” never actually do…

My second date was slightly more interesting than chai and retirement. He had given true spontaneity a shot the night before with an offer to meet for a drink (always a good sign) and if I hadn’t already been in my pajamas in front of “Sons of Anarchy” I might’ve taken him up on that. (Any invitation after 8pm is also good; it means a person has at least a minimal sense of adventure.) When I wasn’t available for the late night cocktail I suggested the following evening and he wondered if I’d be interested in the symphony. Definitely!

IMG_4100I met him at Lincoln Center and engaged in some more “active listening” before the concert began. [Random observation: People talk a lot when they’re nervous. As a result, I have actually become a much better listener.] Our opinions on the musical selections of the evening matched up well. He was wearing a really cool shirt. And afterward he was game for a drink. My choice would’ve been Clark’s for a pint. His choice was Rosa Mexicano for a pomegranate margarita (brrrr) followed by a shot of tequila. He’s a tequila aficionado. Okay. I get that expertise can be attractive. It was an evening full of firsts: I’ve never been to the symphony on a date and I’d never been to the New York Philharmonic. Or Avery Fisher Hall. I can’t remember ever drinking a pomegranate margarita. Or having a shot of fancy tequila — sans (or should I say “sin”?) — a chaser. Especially as a nightcap. Or before a long subway ride home.

Conversation between the music and the margaritas was pleasant. He’s smart and funny. I suppose I wouldn’t mind seeing him again, though the thought of having sex with him isn’t particularly appealing. Perhaps I’ll never find sex appealing again. Sigh.

Sorry, folks. I’m having a bad day. I started this on my phone but the damn app doesn’t appear to be working right or I would’ve posted it on Friday. To continue my “keeping busy” train of thought, I was in a panic because I’d committed to finishing a little piece of writing plus proofreading three pieces by other people, all by yesterday, even though I’d made plans for most of yesterday. And Saturday night. Thankfully some of those plans didn’t come to fruition. Which was a bad thing, actually. Yeah, kinda vaguebooking and I’m not even on Facebook. Anyway. I guess what I’m trying to say is that as bad as I feel right now I’m at least wrapping up this post anyway in an attempt to be productive and remain in motion. Of some sort.

As an addendum, I went to a party Saturday night. I volunteered to work because I’ve become a terrible party goer. I need to be doing something. Though while my costume came out pretty great and I didn’t sit home alone on Valentine’s Day, I can’t say I enjoyed the party. I hated the music. I didn’t really have anyone to talk to. Okay, now I’m really rambling. And sounding pathetic. I think it’s time to go to the gym. I’m gonna hit “publish” just because, in getting back to blogging, I noticed that I would save drafts and never return to them. So even if this shit isn’t Shakespeare, it’s gonna have to do. Ya know? It’s an exercise…

Aside

It’s been about 48 hours since I started watching “House of Cards” and I made it through all 13 episodes of the first season. I think I’ve lost my mind. Yes, season two beckons. I’m still in my pajamas, so … Continue reading

It’s Not You, It’s Me. Yeah. Me.

Okay, rather than continue to prove (and re-prove) how many of the profiles on OKCupid are fakes, I’m gonna get real. I’m gonna come clean about the sad reality of disappointing dates and awkward interactions. Because it isn’t only OKC’s fault. It’s mine.

Here’s one example of back-and-forthing gone awry:
Him: Aren’t you the bartender ?
Me: Ex bartender.
Him: Yes, I remember you invited interested parties to visit you at your gig. What are you doing now?
Me: Making hats and other costumery. Not much different, just no bar shifts at the moment. And you’re welcome to come watch me craft!
Him: Where do you craft?
Me: In my living room.
Him: Is it that entertaining to watch ?!
Me: No. It was a joke. Sadly, humor doesn’t translate very well online. You asked what I was doing now and I went with “doing” as inviting people to visit me while I’m working.
Him: Which part of the city do u live ?
Me: East Village. Near the bar I’d invited people to.
Him: As interesting a woman as you seem to be , I don’t drink and given the brewskis in your photos it looks like you like to party!
Me: Oh well. Heaven forbid you might get to know me and find out. Your decision.

Aaaaaaand, end of discussion. So why the hell was this guy emailing me to begin with? Those photos with “brewskis” didn’t miraculously appear. They were there from the get-go. I don’t post pictures of myself sitting on my couch NOT drinking. Or in the gym NOT drinking. Mind you, I’m a part-time alcoholic. But still. How horrible would it be to meet “an interesting woman,” if only as friends? Or to meet someone new? Does it NEED to be only for a long-term relationship? Asshole. SOBER asshole.

Here’s another communication fail. My “conversation” was prompted by info in the man’s profile:
Me: I’m up for meeting in person as soon as is reasonable, no endless email exchanges or (horrors!) phone calls or texts. That said, if you’re interested, I’ve now made the first move!
Abby
Him: Hi Abby,
Yeah, you’ve made your move, and I like a determined woman.
However, I have to tell you I’ve seen your profile a while ago and was mostly admiring the costumes and “tattoos”, and in the recent times have just stumbled on your profile over and over again while aimlessly wandering the wildernes that is OK Cupid, therefore I wasn’t actually aiming to contact you.
(Blame it on the tiny thumb avatars – way too small for my tired eyes – under the heading “You might like”…)
I was thinking I may be too “tame” for you, though we will never know that for a fact unless we try it out empirically, so – why not: I’m all for meeting and may have some time towards the end of this week, to be exact Friday night, Saturday during the day (before 5 pm, working the evening) and Sunday.
I’m up in Harlem, but we can meet wherever convenient for you, I like traveling…
Let me know.
D.
Me: D.,
Too tame for you? Meaning what? I managed to be polite and witty through a dinner with a Republican banker from Connecticut. I will assume you’re at least a BIT less “tame” than he was. (Is? He DID assure me that he’d been to Woodstock. Yes, the original Woodstock.) Anyway, yes, no way to know without meeting, though your lack of enthusiasm is a little contagious.
If you think you might actually be serious about meeting me — and as I say on my profile(s), the goal of enjoying each other’s company for an hour or two is lofty enough without worrying about “forever” and all that — get back to me. I haven’t been to the Garage Flea Market (24th/25th between 6th & 7th) so maybe we could stroll through? Grab a coffee before or after?
If any of that (meeting me, aiming for friendship initially, strolling through a flea market, coffee?) appeals, yeah, lemme know! This is decidedly an imperfect “system” but a means to an end, I suppose.
Abby
Him: Hi Abby,
You are spot-on on almost all points above.
Lack of enthusiasm is the right definition for it, though it’s not for you per se. So, I didn’t want to appear to be a creep – visiting your profile multiple times without contacting you – but I ended up being an asshole – telling you “meh – we might as well meet, but only if you insist”. You seem like a nice person and you deserve the right amount of interest. Which I did not show.
In my defense right now, it seems as if I’m in some kind of valley on the OK Cupid “valleys and peaks” path. So you may not believe me when I say “it’s not personal” – how could you? – but it isn’t, it’s just me not being particularly enthusiastic about anything…
And that is a wrong start, period, whether thinking of just now of forever, regardless.
Sorry.
De.
P.S. When I said “tame”, I meant I’m not “plotting activities” all the time and all over the city and/or continent, though I’m not exactly the couch potato. (Woodstock..? I was otherwise engaged at the time, but had replayed it numerous times in my bedroom in the succeeding years, thanks to the triple LP I still have, though not recently…)
Me: Would it be that awful? Honestly? I’m an interesting person.

Honestly? He couldn’t even be bothered to see this through and meet me? And does this mean I should change my profile to say that I essentially sit on my ass waiting for some — ANY — human companionship? Does “planning things” make me so wild that no normal man could possibly imagine himself able to handle the enormous burden of entertaining me? Holy hell.

Yet another fail, on my part, to engage a fellow human. Again, I reached out, based on an interesting profile. What an idiot I am. He said on his profile that he’s in Vermont until April. So I thought I was safe in merely making contact.
Me: Hi there,
I decided not to be dissuaded by your “replies very selectively” rating or the fact that you’re not available for coffee or a beer (or wine, for you, if you prefer) in the (very) near future.
All that said, you sure do sound interesting. Sorry, I’m not usually one to gush but you would make a good TV show. Or Lifetime movie…Perhaps something on the Cooking Channel?
I’m hoping you’re experiencing enough boredom to spend more time than usual on this site and that you will, out of said boredom, respond.
Abby
Him: Good Morning Abby,
Depends on very near future. I am in Brooklyn till Saturday morning. Had to dash back to Brooklyn for a couple of days in between snow storms.
M.
Me: Hmmm, does this mean you’re available for a coffee or beer? [Fuckin’ hussy.]
Him: Shoveling snow at my store right now. No plans for tonight or tomorrow afternoon at the moment. Subject to change. [Sounds positively RIVETING!]
Me: Yeah, no plans for tonight either, with all this “weather.” Let me know if you’d like to make a plan!
Him: Where in New York are you? [I always love this question. Like there’s a right and wrong answer? Friends tell me that people list themselves as living in “New York” when they are, in fact, living in New Jersey. Or worse!So I guess it’s not a completely ridiculous question.]
Me: East Village. [Which, one might’ve assumed, given the “EV” in my screen name. Perhaps not…]
Him: I can hop up there or nearby. I would love to have Chinese at Pings on Mott St.
Me: Tomorrow, perhaps?
Him: Lunch, coffee or hot chocolate?
Me: If you’re craving Ping’s, let’s do that! Hot chocolate for dessert?
Him: More Chinese food than Pings per say. Lunch I would pick a dim sum place.
Me: I’ll leave it up to you. I work for myself so I can do either lunch or dinner. And hot chocolate knows no hour.
[This exchange took place around noon, all in quick succession. When I hadn’t heard back from him by 10pm, I made other plans for lunch.]
Me: Looks like I can only do dinner tomorrow. Let me know if that works for you!
Him: Hey,
Sorry I have plans with my son, Maybe next time I am in town.
M.
Me: Okay.

And that was that. Why bother telling me you’re in town? Then why bother telling me when you’re available? Only to become UN available? Why bother beginning to make plans at all? I guess that was my bad for not keeping me day wide open. Sigh.

Near-misses shouldn’t be anything to get stressed about but when you spend as much time at home, alone, as I have lately, it does have an effect. Sadly. Even worse are the dates I enjoy and the men I never hear from again.

A while back I went on a date with a guy who was super tall and the perfect age (a year or two older…perhaps not “ideal” by my “standards” but certainly “proper”). He showed a more-than-nodding acquaintance with the neighborhood and picked a place. He showed up on time, wearing black jeans and a motorcycle jacket. He suggested fancy cocktails, which were yummy, and ordered a selection of tasty tapas. Then he paid. Thus far, many points accumulated. Next? The invitation to go somewhere for an after dinner beer. Ding-ding! Off we strolled to Manitoba’s. More points. After not one, not two but three beers later (one round of which I insisted upon paying for), he said he needed to get going. We walked down Avenue B till my block and hugged goodbye, with smiles, “that was fun”s and “I’ll be in touch”s. I never heard from him again. Who’s to say it would’ve worked out. But add to all of his particulars that he’s a music producer and in a band. That his last girlfriend (who is deceased, not an “ex”) and I traveled in similar circles. That he gave up his East Village apartment for a family home at the beach (!!!) so, you know, I could offer him a place in the city and he could offer me a place at the beach (!!!). I was envisioning a bright future. But no. Nothing. Not even an invitation to see his band. Ah well.

I don’t post the good dates because, well, I don’t want to risk a guy reading about himself and ruining the chances of romance blooming. Which doesn’t mean I don’t go out and actually enjoy the company of men I meet online. I’ve had a few dates over the past few months that were really fun. The men were smart and engaging, our conversations stimulating and entertaining, the checks chivalrously paid. I’m not sure which is worse, never hearing from someone I was truly interested in seeing again or enjoying myself with a man I can’t imagine sleeping with. Either way, the disappointments have been adding up and I’ve considered retiring from the online dating world. But for now, I will post this and wait for the nasty comments, which have become as emotionally debilitating as the dates themselves.

My Second Column Is Published!

Sometimes, instead of ranting here, I’ll be ranting on Gasm.org. You can see my latest article here:
The Too Young to be Old Conundrum

GOD DAMN IT! Another rant…

Argh. I’ve been super cranky and out of sorts lately. The fact that there are guys working RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW right now, like the one SAWING into the brick beneath my window mere FEET from my face doesn’t help. Neither does his singing. I mean, I’m glad he’s enjoying his job but he’s driving me crazy. The scaffolding they’re on has been there since the summer. Possibly before. I’m over it. The additional disturbance of the construction project that has started in the school yard right outside my BEDROOM window also has me on edge. Since it’s, you know, a school yard, they do their work during off hours. Like jackhammering at 9am on a Saturday. Or clanking around after dark. Ugh. That work is scheduled to go on for three years. THREE YEARS. I may lose my mind.

My general disgust with the human race has been exacerbated by the current “controversy” over Rubulad’s theme for next weekend. There’s even an article about it on Jezebel, muckracking for the millenials. Before Halloween this year, a bunch of youngsters made posters protesting the use of their “culture” as a costume. Never mind that anyone who’s been in America since they were born has, more or less, lost their “culture.” It’s just political correctness gone rampant. If I wear green on St. Patrick’s Day, am I ridiculing the Irish? Can I respectfully wear a garland of flowers in my hair and traditional Mexican/Scandinavian/Polynesian garb? Yes, plenty of people wear flowers in their hair. I’ve worn a dirndl. Is that okay? And is it okay only because the culture I’m co-opting is white? More or less okay if it’s actually MY culture? If we were to extrapolate this shit, no one would ever be able to dress as anything. Ever. I call bullshit. But people are outraged. OUTRAGED. Imagine anyone who isn’t of Asian descent putting chopsticks in their hair. Qu’el horreur! What about a fair isle sweater? Is that cool? Or do I need to be from a fucking fair isle? I suppose blue jeans are only okay for blue collar workers. EVERYTHING in this country was co-opted from someone. Including the fucking country. Deal with it. And preferably move forward.

Okay, enough about that shit. My other latest obsession is, no surprise, OKCupid. Since they were bought by Match.com the quality of the men on there has declined significantly. Not that there was a whole lotta quality to start with. Now, instead of a high percentage of quirky, cool-ish singles, I’m confronted by profile after profile of “God fearing” guys. “Easy going” and “laid back” men in search of their “soul mate” or “the one.” Listing God as one of the six things you can’t live without isn’t gonna work for me. And when I let these guys know that I’m not a God person, they seem baffled. Is the site now connected to Christian Mingle as well? Holy crap!

And while I’m on a tear, here’s a list of my top 10 deal-breakers. I know some of these are repeat complaints but I can’t help myself!
1. Photos of your motorcycle. Ditto on your sports car. I don’t give a shit how you get around town. And your mid-life crisis-mobile is embarrassing.
2. Photos of your kids. Let me get to know your offspring once I’ve gotten to know you, m’kay? Worse? A photo of you with your kids with their faces all blurred out. Creepy. Which leads me to…
3. Photos of you with someone blurred, blocked, scrawled over or cut out. Don’t post pix that are evidence of previous failures. Just don’t.
4. Photos of you in the bathroom. I don’t want to see your toilet. Blech.
5. Repeat pix. If you only have one photo, sure, that’s weak and perhaps you should get a few more. But posting the same photo four times doesn’t help much.
6. Nothin’ but selfies. Dude. Don’t you have ANY friends? Sure, one selfie. Six? No. No no no.
7. Lists of all the horrible qualities you don’t want. Nobody wants drama or baggage or anything else awful. But you’re over 40 and alone. So how about being a little more positive? Instead of proving to potential dates precisely why you’re still single. Ditto on divulging all the details on your divorce. That’s for, like, date #10. Or maybe #20.
8. Maybe take a few minutes to fill out the profile? No need to write a novel but more than a dozen words might give all us strangers just a tiny idea of who you are, what you’re looking for, what you enjoy, something? Anything? However, you can refrain from calling yourself “handsome,” “good looking” or “attractive.” I’ll be the judge of that, thankyouverymuch.
9. It’s pointless, I know, but PROOFREAD YOUR FUCKING PROFILE. Oh. And don’t use ALL CAPS. Ask a friend, “Are the commas in the right place?” DO YOU EVEN CARE? I suppose not… And lastly
10. No photo/photos of scenery/blurry photos/misleading photos/photos of you when you were 25. What the motherfuck? If we’re gonna meet in person, it will be immediately apparent that you’re bald. Or fat. Or not 6’2″. Or FUCKING 25! Just show your face. It’s not rocket science.