Tag Archives: Dating

Not Enough Info…But with a Positive Outcome!

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58% Match 49% Friend 44% Enemy
Oct 19, 2012 – 6:47am

great profile….awesome photos!!! I’ll buy the Pabst:):):) George
Okay, so I clicked on George’s profile. Those yellow squares? Not painting canvases, as I’d hoped. Nope. They are Post-Its blocking out George’s friends’ faces. Hrm. Dude, ,what, no photos of yourself that don’t require covering up? His profile contains exactly 14 words. Now, it isn’t necessary to divulge your entire life story in an online dating profile. But a bit more info than “I hate to type.” is probably, if not necessary, at least smart.
My note to him:
Hi George,
I’m glad you enjoyed my profile and pix. I hope you don’t mind a few words of constructive criticism:
Your profile has only 14 words in it. That isn’t very much to go on. Don’t you have anything more to say? The fact that you don’t like to type…well, not even in the pursuit of romance? I mean, that’s what the site is for.
Your main profile photo? Blocking out friends’ faces with Post-It notes? How about one of just YOU so we don’t need to see people blocked out? A nice, clear shot of your smiling face would be great!
Lastly, we are only a 58% match. And 44% enemies. I’m not sure that’s enough to pursue a date, really, even if I knew more about you through your profile or saw more photos of your life.
I hope you take this the right way and not as me being TOO bitchy. I believe you’ll have much better luck if you invest a bit more time in how you’re represented on here!
And his response:
Hi Abby.. almost wanted to say hey Abbott!!!! Nope I have no problem with your criticism in fact I appricate your time and effort you put into it …Abby I’m not into talking about myself…it’s not something I like to do ..I understand on sites like this it pretty much has to be done…. I’ll talk about things I’ve done and still do in a conversation with someone (phone) ….. I’ve had quite a few conversations over the phone and most woman come across that they understand what my feelings are ….one other thing is that I really hate to type (( this is a long mail for me ) also it’s not easy typing with 2 fingers one from each hand … again thanks for the mail…if you would like( I would ) we can talk sometime ..if not good luck …be safe …George
Fantastic! Finally someone who accepted my words of advice instead of freaking the fuck out! Huzzah!
Hi George,
Thanks for taking my comments in the spirit in which they were given!
I’m not sure we’d be much of a match…or even click as friends…but I do host occasional events for single people over 40. If you’re interested in attending the next one, send me your email address and I’ll put you on my list!
Yes, there may be hope after all!

Three’s a Charm…Chore

Uh. I wanted the word “Charm” to have a “strike-through” but evidently I can only edit HTML for the body of the text (here) and not in my headline. Use your imaginations. See it? The word “Charm” crossed out and replaced with “Chore”? Okay, good. Shall we proceed?

This past Thursday I went on three dates. Yes, three. Sort of. The first guy said he wanted to meet for coffee but had a conference call at 7pm. So I made another date at 7:30 to meet guy #2 for a beer. Date #3 was an invitation to a party co-hosted by a guy who has been checking my profile on OKCupid (and randomly emailing me) for about two years.

I know, it sounds a bit overambitious but I figured once I was dressed up and date-ready, I might as well get as much mileage out of my night as possible. So how did they go? Well, hmmmm…

Date #1 was a little late. No big deal. But when he’d said we’d meet “outside” I kinda thought that there might be, you know, outside seating. Instead I leaned against a financial district high rise outside an Aroma coffee shop. He bought my chai, which was nice, and we had a pleasant enough conversation. He didn’t look quite as good in person as he did in his photo (could’ve been the boring business suit instead of the tight t-shirt) but his looks weren’t as problematic as his professional life. On his profile he’d professed to “a gypsy lifestyle” and “working too hard,” years without a day off, in fact, and admitted to seeking more “play.” I was obviously willing to take on that challenge. However, in our fairly brief conversation, I couldn’t figure out when he would be able to fit in that “play.” His “gypsy lifestyle” wasn’t as romantic in reality as it sounded in print; he commutes between Manhattan and Rochester and his home in Syracuse. For a government job. Erm… His time in NYC is on the gub-ment dime so even if he’d been up for some playing, he’d have to spring for a separate hotel room or pass out on a very long train ride home. Sigh. Though we both said it would be nice to see each other again, I don’t anticipate that actually happening.

Date #2 was much more my speed, a craftsman and sailor. I met him at one bar, where we had a few beers, and then we had a few more at another bar. He was tall and smart and funny and since his online photos didn’t reveal much due to a baseball cap and sunglasses, there wasn’t as much of that usual visual discrepancy. Yet this is where my problem with online dating becomes so pronounced: while enjoying myself — and his company — all I could think was “Could I kiss this guy?” And the answer was consistently, “No.” I can’t say why.

Whatever, I invited him along to the party that guy #3 had invited me to, saying that he wouldn’t have much time to talk since he’d be busy hosting. Which I thought was a perfect situation: I’d get to see him in action without that awkward one on one dynamic. I’d invited my friend Karen, too, who was there when we arrived. The party was at Taj, a horrible club I’ve been to before, with mandatory coat check and overpriced drinks. I promised date #2 we wouldn’t stay long as soon as I realized what we were in for. Well, nothing, my friends, I mean NOTHING had prepared me for what we were actually in for. All the $12 cocktails in the world paled in comparison to the guests at this event. Yes, I had read the fine print: Date #3’s “Back to the Beach Party” was sharing the evening with “BoomerParties.com.” Uh-huh. “Parties for ages 40s and 50s & up.” Oh yeah. Up. And UP!

Holychristonapogostick! This hellish party was like Heaven’s Waiting Room! There was even a clichéd crone with the dyed black hair and makeup scrawled over her face like an SNL skit. She was sportin’ enormous sneakers, hunched over a trés chic cane. There was “Fabio,” who I needed to see up close in order to properly appreciate his full glamor: Mr. Magoo glasses, too-tight acid washed jeans, a white button down barely containing his girth and bleached blond hair that he kept smoothing down. He had positioned himself by the dance floor, perhaps to catch one of the crones if she lost her orthopedic footing. The women were, quite literally, shuffling around! The exception were the few 50-ish “cougar” wanna-bes, with their streaked, over-sprayed hair, flirty cocktail dresses and high-pitched cackles, draped all over each other and no doubt hoping to meet a man who’ll pay for their (next) facelifts.

All this to a bangin’ top-40 dance beat that I’m sure no one in the room cared for. Or heard. Oy. To say this was depressing would be a gross understatement. It was a HORROR! Fortunately, date #3 slipped me a few fancy plastic drink tickets on his way out, so Karen, date #2 and I each enjoyed a free cocktail as we attempted to contain our guffaws. We stumbled out of there safe in the knowledge that, however bad it may be, it ain’t that bad yet!

After that debacle, date #2 insisted on getting something to eat, which I wasn’t really up for. But we wound up at a tacky retro diner where I got to slurp down one of the most amazing milkshakes of my life! Cotton Candy! Complete with real cotton candy garnish! I used it to wash down my chili cheese tater tots. After such an action-packed date I just wanted to get home and hide under the covers, so I gave date #2 a hug goodbye, saying yes, of course we should get together again. I couldn’t find a cab to save my life, so I bumbled home, cackling like a crone the whole way! Next step: KILL my OKCupid profile! Anyway….

Other Peoples’ Bad Dates

I haven’t been on a date since the guy who “wrote” “A Date with Abby.” Frankly, I haven’t had the stomach. OKCupid keeps sending me notices of who’s checking me out or who’s “chosen” me and they are all a horror. If all I can get are fat old Santas, fucking forget it. A friend has been using the dating sites for hookups and has a favorite young man. If you can believe it, he’s a pizza delivery guy. Yup, like right out of porn movie. He even showed up once to service her between deliveries, saying, “I have 10 minutes.” Uh, yeah. I think that may be what I need. An anonymous fuck who’ll “deliver.” Cause these doddering old men are doing nothing for my libido. NOTHING, I tell you!

Okay, had to get that off my (somewhat impressive) chest! Now I know I’m disappointing you all so if I can’t provide you with your usual dose of entertainment, I’ve found a few other folks who can. These people have subscribed to my blog most likely because they’re experiencing their own special form of dating hell. Fortunately, their hell is our hilarity!

Moths to a Flame is a posh single female in the big city. (I hope she doesn’t mind my referring to her that way! When you read the sort of guys she dates, I’m sure you’ll agree.) I really enjoyed “Fanny Pack” but read all her horror stories!

No need to say that Snarky Snatch is funny; anyone who’d title their blog Snarky Snatch has a great sense of humor. She’s probably also “chill” and “laid back.” (If you don’t get that lame reference to dating profile clichés you don’t deserve Ms. Snatch! But you should read her anyway!) For a quick guffaw, you’ll enjoy her “I Prefer My Obligation-Free Head to Come Unattached to a Crazy Person” (The post is shorter than the title!) but all her shit is hilarious.

You can read about bad dates from the male perspective at My Next Date. Somehow they aren’t quite as horrible but that’s probably because he’s being nice…ish. Check out “The Naked Truth,” his take on strip clubs as a dating destination.

My Twentysomething Sex Life makes me feel a bit better about miserable dates because, well, even twentysomethings are suffering! (Sorry.) Her advice for Men: How to Date Online has some valuable nuggets that mirror some of my own. But if you really want a chuckle, check out “Wanted: Big Fat Dildo.”

Okay. Well, there are a few to keep you busy until I get my shit together!


The budding beginning of a new relationship is many things: luck, chemistry, physical attraction, location (location, location) but most importantly, it is timing. On the initial few dates—or, in many instances in my life, interactions, since I wasn’t much of a dater, historically—two people need to be not on the same page or even the same line but quite literally on the same word. If one person is even the tiniest little bit more attracted to the other, more enthusiastic about seeing the other person again or sleeping with the person or playing tennis with the person or whatEVER, it throws things out of balance and leaves the other person thinking, “Wow, he wants to play tennis with me WAY more than I want to play tennis with him!” Or whatever.

In other words, every incremental step that leads from two people meeting or seeing each other from across a crowded room or bumping into each other in a bar, on a subway, at a concert, in church, yes, every single second is a make-or-break moment. When that phone rings, and it’s him, you need to want to speak to him just as badly as he wants to speak with you. And conversely, if a text bings on your phone, if it isn’t a welcome bing, it’s a bad thing.

Now that there are so many ways to communicate with a person there are even more ways to fuck up the timing. Once upon a time there were phone calls. And letters. Or maybe flowers. Now you can text ONE TOO MANY TIMES! Or email them ONE TOO MANY TIMES! Or tell someone how much you really want to fuck them ONE TOO MANY TIMES and, pfft! Game over.

Since men are from Mars and women are from Venus, the chances of any communications between two people of the opposite sex being successful are iffy at best. It’s a fucking miracle anyone ever finds true love! Let us review:

First you need to meet someone. A crapshoot. You can go to a party (or a class, or a library, or an AA meeting…you get the picture) every night for a month. A year? Forever? And never meet someone who appeals to you. They might’ve just left. Or they’re in a different class. NA instead of AA. Again, you get the picture.

Once you’ve actually met someone you’re attracted to, you need to, well, DO something! Date? Dance? Fuck? Have a cup of coffee? Dance, drink, take a walk. And at every moment, neither of you can do anything to freak the other person out or scare them off.

Now, repeat step two…um, as many times as it takes for both of you to come to the conclusion that you’re in love. This does happen. To all kinds of people! Every day! It’s happened to me a number of times. And as I’ve been conducting my present search for true love, I keep reminding myself that I have, indeed, managed to find love and fall in love not once, not twice, but seven times. Which often has me thinking that I’ve used up all my luck in love.

I certainly hope I haven’t. But now that I’m, well, where I am…it’s all even more difficult. Leaving the house is harder. I do it. Repeatedly. And optimistically. But it isn’t as easy as it used to be. The places I might meet people have become more limited. I used to meet (and fuck) people I met in bars all the damn time. I don’t think I’ve met anyone new in a bar in years. I just don’t hang out in bars the way I once did. And when I am in a bar, I must not have my “Buy me a beer and I’ll suck your cock” groove on. I’ve also become considerably less inclined to drag a drunk guy home with me. And honestly, that was more or less my MO for…over a decade.

Which all adds up to why don’t I just give up? My friend Ruth’s comment on my previous blog post was: “If you find disbelief in blind dates, then why do you do it consistently and constantly?” And my response just sounds like excuses: “Spoken like a person who isn’t single! I keep doing to meet new people, most especially people outside my already considerably large world, in the hope that it might lead to, well, all sorts of things! A job, new people for my singles’ events, someone who might enjoy meeting one of my friends, who knows? The bottom line is that it couldn’t hurt! Also, it gives me more to blog about! Are these sufficient reasons?”

On bad days I fantasize about moving to a mountaintop and becoming a hermit. I know I am completely unsuited for the hermit’s life but sometimes it sounds appealing. I wouldn’t feel bad about staying home cause I wouldn’t be missing anything. Well, maybe nature. If I wasn’t meeting anyone it would be because there was no one to meet. Here I come in contact with hundreds of people a week. And I’m not falling in love with ANY of them! I must have bad timing…

Don’t Tell Mama

My mother learned not to ask about my love life years ago, sometime around 1990. That was at the end of a decade that declared a woman over 30 had as much a chance of getting married as being hit by lightning. I’m sure she desperately wanted my sister and I to get married so we’d have the standard, acceptable life she’d lived. Our 1990 argument was about why I didn’t have a boyfriend, that perhaps I was too picky, and it got pretty ugly. Despite all my perceived “defects,” I eventually got married and so did my sister. Well we’re both divorced now and thank goodness my sister’s contentious divorce provides my mother with so much to worry about that she doesn’t concern herself with my love life. I think she still knows not to ask.

I recently made the mistake of mentioning my dating adventures to my mom. First it was the socially awkward one, which caused her to worry about my safety. I told her that since it took him two subway rides and two cab rides to find his way to meet me, I didn’t think he’d have much luck tracking me down. Then it was a more recent man whose company I’d enjoyed; I said I was actually looking forward to seeing again. I should’ve known better. As soon as I told her there was someone I liked, he stopped calling. And texting and emailing. Oh well. Easy come, easy go. At least I can be thankful that my mom won’t be asking about him!

Update on this: I got a few more “Scrabble emails” from the guy. (Yes, Scrabble emails are emails that take place in the midst of a Scrabble game, and not some weird sex-related euphemism.) But he hasn’t texted or called since our last game, so I’m assuming the insistent desires behind his multiple “I want to make out with you” texts have since faded. Sigh. And yes, my mom did ask about him. She won’t be asking again.

How to Offend an “Older Woman” #1

If you’ve been following my blog because you find my dating (mis) adventures either heartwarming or hilarious, I don’t want to let you down and leave you in an expanding puddle of…porn. Here’s one of my latest, an “almost” date.

I’ve been receiving many cyber-passes from younger men (younger men meaning mostly 20-somethings) and decided that maybe I should give one a go. (Or at least a date.) So when 22-year-old “D” contacted me on OKCupid, I thought, what the hell? His initial email:

Although you’re perhaps looking for older guys, I just want to say that I think you’re exceedingly cute and intriguing. 
That is all. 🙂

After a few emails back and forth, we switched to texting:

Hi Abby! Yes, let’s meet up. I’ll be coming into Penn Station, [odd, since his profile says he’s in New York, NY]  but I could come down to the East Village. Are there any restaurants you fancy? I could find one, though I’m not the NYC native!)

There are so many! Do you have a preference? Atmosphere? Cuisine? Gimme a ballpark idea and I’ll pick a place!

Well, I do rather like Thai and Indian food, if I have to choose (although I’m not picky). On the other hand, a nice dimly lit romantic restaurant would be nice ; )

I prefer Thai. [Notice how I sidestepped the whole “romantic restaurant” thing? Why encourage it?] There are a bunch! Cafetasia on Avenue A between 5th & 6th has a nice atmosphere.

That could work, although, for a rather silly reason, I might prefer somewhere else. (A few of my friends live at 6th and Avenue A so I’m sort of paranoid of seeing them on our date!)

Yeah okay well on second thought? Nevermind.

On second thought what?

On second thought, no thank you. Not interested.

Um, okay….

Clearly he had NO idea why I blew him off. Sheesh, kids! So I sent him an email to let him know and perhaps help him avoid offending other “older women”:

Just an FYI: In the future, when you’re attempting to “charm” an “older woman,” you might not want to mention that you don’t want to be seen with her.
Just sayin’.

Can you believe it was actually necessary for me to point out why his innocent remark might’ve been so hurtful? What was I thinking, making a date to meet someone less than half my age? I had no delusions about the possibility of a relationship and absolutely no intention of sleeping with the guy. Ever. I don’t want to be anyone’s punch line! Was I only going out of sheer curiosity? Or for the free meal? I don’t even know. But I probably won’t be too eager to make another date with anyone quite so young. Sigh…

(Putting Your Ass) On (the) Line (by) Dating. Or Not.

On OKCupid there’s a feature called “Quickmatch.” They throw profiles at you and ask you to rate them, one to five stars. If you give someone five stars, the site lets them know. So the other day, I received a lovely email from OKCupid informing me “Someone chose you!” I dutifully clicked to see who’d had such stellar taste and found “UniquelyCharmin.” He is only 5’8″ but his profile is snarkily amusing. At the very least I thought we might enjoy a beer together or that he’d be interested in attending one of my singles’ events. Our correspondence went thusly:

Uh, okay! I see you “chose me” on Quickmatch or one of the other games on this goofy site. You sound pretty hilarious. Plus I’m always up for free drinks! So….

So you want to use me for free drinks. How special I feel.

Um, well, you DID put that in your profile. It was actually a joke…Where’s your sense of humor (and your recollection of what you wrote in your “long” profile)?
Sorry to have gotten off on the wrong cyber-foot.

You didn’t. I was kidding when I wrote it. I guess I should have put a smiley face next to it. I actually really enjoyed writing my profile and the feedback has been very interesting. I am a writer and enjoy the writing process. However, I don’t enjoy the dating process or the questions that come with the process. So, thank you for reading and I hope you have a great holiday season.

Yeah, well, I guess humor doesn’t translate through the ether. So now that we were both kidding, you still want to say goodbye?
Double sigh.

Yes. The whole concept of dating is annoying, predictable and just banal. I don’t date. Sorry. OH and just to set your mind at ease about me… I am a Hard Core Right Wing Republican. You would not like me. 🙂 But you look great and I am sure you will find some great guy. Have a great holiday season.

So you are on this site…why? Just to annoy people? You don’t date? Being on a dating site and simply irritating people is far more annoying — and banal — than actually putting yourself on the line and dating.
I will, indeed, have a great holiday season.
I hope you wind up with coal in your stocking.

And then I blocked him.

Now I ask you, as I asked him, why is this guy on a dating site? If he finds dating to be “annoying, predictable and just banal” what purpose does his time spent — or more accurately wasted — on such sites serve? Given his bespectacled and doughy visage, receding hairline and somewhat corpulent physique, I can’t imagine it was for any ego boosts. Perhaps he enjoys soft-core porn and uses this as masturbation fodder? Or maybe he’s writing a hilarious blog about his interactions, as I do. Whatever the reason, his complete and utter lack of sincerity is not just disappointing, it’s disheartening. Laying your heart, as well as your ego, on the line is never easy. To be lured in and condescended to is yet another twist of the knife. As I told this confessed “hard core right wing Republican,” I hope he finds coal in his stocking. And a decided lack of proper circulation in his cock! Ho ho ho!