Tag Archives: single over 50

Three Tinder Dates in Three Days

Nights, actually.

Yes, I’m off OKCupid. But I’m still online with the Tinder app. I figure, why not use an app that was designed to facilitate immediacy? Well, no surprise that it hasn’t yielded as much of that as I’d hoped. But I have found the men to be slightly more…game.

Thursday evening I met a gentleman from Tinder at the Punk Magazine 40th Anniversary Show at HOWL Happening Gallery. Proving himself to be a true iconoclast, he showed up at the all motorcycle-jackets-and-tight-jeans event in oatmeal-toned Indian garb. It was a frigid night and he was in sandals. Barefoot. Okay, I can groove with your “Oh, I’m so different” deal, dude; I’m different too. We looked at the art, I introduced him to a few people and then we drifted to 2A, where he more than held his own with some of my slightly mouthier friends. I thought we were getting along pretty well, if not spot-on perfectly. I offered him the “It’s probably best not to talk about your ex-wife on a first date” advice and he admitted I was his first. Date. He apologized for texting his daughter and it didn’t bother me. For the first hour. In the end, I’d enjoyed his company. We weren’t much of a match but I would’ve included him in just about any social gathering in the future. (And would’ve loved to introduce him to other women.)  When he left I thought he felt the same. Apparently he didn’t because after a few steps out the door he began texting me somewhat nasty stuff. I responded with a “Dude, go home, you’re drunk” and suggested we communicate in the morning. He’d consumed three pint glasses of double-shot Cuba Libres and I just figured, eh, he’s sloshed. But he kept on. So I unmatched him. Who needs that shit?

Date number two had been arranged for Thursday night and we were gonna meet up, just the two of us, until a friend texted that she’d been served divorce papers. “I need a drink,” she told me. “Join me?” I texted the guy and he had no problem with it. He even said he’d buy her a drink himself. Well he did. A bunch. He bought drinks for me, for her, for her male friend. I don’t think I’ve ever had a date throw that much cash around. I mean, I’ve been on coffee dates where the dude didn’t even pay for my Americano! I am soooo far from a money-freak but man, that was a refreshing change! We had a blast. Truly. He was the most fun date I can remember. In New York, anyway. I was his first date (What is it with me and the just-divorced virgins?!) and his “profile” was the sincere admission “Not sure why I’m on here. Just looking for friendship.” I got no problem with that. I’m hoping he’ll show up at Happy Hour on Wednesday. He asked if he could bring a bunch of his friends. Now that’s what I’m talking about!

And last night I met up with number three. He was just as entertaining and engaging as the others. Smart, interesting…and interested. And there I had it. I could interest and engage. But that may not be such a good thing. Both #2 and #3 were interested enough. Yet I wasn’t. Sure, in friendship. But beyond that. No. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel like having sex again. In the past five years I’ve felt motivated in that direction with exactly three men. And had sex exactly four times. That’s not a lot. It’s actually kinda embarrassing. Especially from a self-admitted former slut. I don’t know how to handle myself. Last night’s date challenged me: If that’s how I feel, why was I bothering? Because I’m an optimist? I keep hoping? I’ve said so many times that meeting in person is the only way to know and then…meeting in person…I’m still left cold. Not by the men but by my libido. Or lack thereof.

I felt physically attracted to someone fairly recently. Someone taller and older and, sadly, 3,000 miles away. Well, he wasn’t at the time. But he is now. So I’m going to maintain my optimism. I’m going to continue hoping. And, quite probably, continue disappointing the men who’ve swiped right in hopes of meeting someone fun and interesting (done and done) and having sex with her (not so done). Surely one of them might be the one?

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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

Age. Ranging.

Richard, a 67-year-old, contacted me: intimidating you seem to me, as probably am I. where in NYC are you? What do you edit? or does your moniker misrepresent. My exhibitionism is limited to swimming and springboard diving. 
may I please hear from you? 

His profile was interesting enough, though he lives outside the city. And, you know, he’s 67. I responded: I don’t find you intimidating. Perhaps a bit beyond my age range. And I have no exhibitionist tendencies. 
Happy to meet for coffee or a beer but no possibilities of romance. [And don’t think for one second I didn’t consider making a Yoda wisecrack!]

He quickly wrote back with: can’t dispute Abby, sorry. Which made me feel bad. I told him there was no need to apologize, it was all good. But… Is it better to just meet every guy? I mean, EVERY guy? Even if there’s no chance of romance? It seems like a waste. I’m ready to be proven wrong about low “match” percentages or photos that don’t immediately appeal to me or even men who don’t have a grasp of grammar. Or spelling. But when someone is so much older than me that I’d find myself worrying about them dropping dead on a date, well… What could I have done differently?

I noticed an intriguing photo — a guy with his dog — so I emailed him: Ack. Yeah I’m way outside your age range. And I could barely read your profile cause I was blinded by that awesome shot of you and your dog. Blah blah blah email me if you feel inspired. After a few back and forths, during which he told me he’d met me, years before, back in 1993, I got the smackdown: Unfortunately, You are a wee bit outside my age range. But I remember you as stunningly groovy, if that counts for anything : )

Oof. Guess I’ve gotta be able to take what I dish out. I was gonna reply with something along the lines of “Just FYI, my last boyfriend was younger than you,” but that would’ve sounded creepy cougar-ish. Instead, I slunk away, my tail between my legs: I suppose it does. Oh well. Thanks for responding. And he shot back: Good luck in your search! Ack. That’s my see-ya-later line!

Somehow, in my head, I’ve managed to convince myself that while there’s a staggering age gap between me, at 53, and some 63-year-old retired dude who lives in the ‘burbs, I haven’t had as much success finding difficulty with the span between me — still vibrant and active and living in the big city — and guys in a similar situation who are 10 years or so younger than me. I regularly turn down 20-somethings (and, truth be told, 30-somethings) because I do think that’s a bit too much of a difference. The question is, how many years are too many years? I hate to get caught up in the numbers game and I suppose there are as many mature young guys as there are immature old guys. It all really comes down to mutual attraction and mutual interests, both of which transcend age. But those are tough to discern when you’re reduced to an online profile that telegraphs how old  you are before any other information.

Another Week of Oh Well

Another week and multiple instances of dating disasters, both aborted and actualized.

Chris and I met last Thursday. Within only a few moments — even before I’d gotten a beer — he’d told me that he had no interest in ever falling in love again. He repeatedly used the phrase, “She wasn’t what I wanted her to be.” And by the time I finished my second beer I’d also heard about his problems with his family, his therapy history and how many women he was seeing. To be fair, he spilled his dating beans after I’d admitted that I wasn’t feeling any chemistry. What followed was a refreshingly honest conversation, during which he told me that I was exactly what he’d imagined I’d be: different, open and interesting. Though that made it slightly more than a complete failure, I managed to salvage the evening by attending a gallery opening, where I saw familiar faces and fabulous art.

This past Tuesday I met Ray. He got off to a good start by telling me I look better in person. But it was downhill from there. While I finished off three beers, he spoke non-stop, barely taking a breath and gesticulating wildly. However, he never made eye contact. Ever. It was totally disconcerting. I felt like I was watching a monologue from the audience rather than sharing an evening. When he suggested we get something to eat, I declined, again being the one to break the news that I didn’t think it was worth extending our time together.

I had late lunch plans on Tuesday with a guy I’d been emailing for a month; he cancelled at 11:45. He suggested the next day but I had to work so he tried Friday instead and then immediately redacted, “realizing” he may be out of town. I had dinner plants tonight; that guy cancelled around noon, saying his daughter was sick. In full disclosure, I had tentative plans Tuesday night with a guy I enjoyed a few weeks ago and backed out because I just wasn’t feeling up to it. It was all so exhausting. Fortunately we were texting and he took it well, saying that he was feeling equally out of sorts.

Yesterday I was emailing with a guy who’s 43. He wanted to meet and I told him he could come by and visit me at work, though it’s a bar and he doesn’t drink. He said he could drink soda so I gave him the address. He showed up at 6:30, as he’d said he would, and stood over an arm’s length away from the bar, phone in hand, no doubt comparing the real me to my profile pix. I could tell he was the guy; I would’ve recognized him even if he looked completely different. “Hi,” I said. “I’d shake your hand but you have a phone in it.” He appeared bewildered. “I’m Nelson,” he said shakily. “Yes, I gathered that,” I replied. “I’m Abby.” I’d talking to friends at two ends of the bar, as well as waiting on about a dozen customers. “Can I get you something?” I inquired. He asked for a Coke, which I served up, before checking on everyone else. When I went back to chat him up some more, he was gone, the glass of Coke untouched, and there was a $5 bill on the bar. What the hell?

I sent him an email: So, uh, wow…what the hell was THAT? Did you expect to be the only person in the bar? Was I supposed to be there only to serve you? I was working. You didn’t even stay to drink your Coke. Why did you even bother stopping by?

And his response? I wanted to meet you..I’m sorry..I’m shy..Your very pretty…I would love to do something if when you have some free time Now what do I do? I wasn’t really even interested in the first place and anyone who’s this shy is not gonna work in my life. There’s no way to say anything without sounding like a total bitch. Which I guess I am…

So yeah. Another week. And this isn’t even any of the “online only, not quite making plans” stage stuff. I often ask myself why I bother… At least I’ve become more skilled at sizing up the situation and extracting myself from it, without wasting any more of my time (and beer money) — or theirs.

Not Enough Info…But with a Positive Outcome!

An image of null

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!
Abby
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!
Abby
Yes, there may be hope after all!

A “Real” Date

I went on a date. And no, it wasn’t an OKCupid date. I actually met the guy in person when he came into the bar for Burning Man Happy Hour on the 4th of July. He’d seen my post about it and we’d corresponded. He was visiting from California. Did New York City have a CORE Project?

He came in with a friend who had his young son in tow. They were drunk…and got drunker, hanging out at the bar all afternoon. I enjoyed their company. He stayed way later than his friend and even after I hurried off to a friend’s rooftop to see the fireworks. I should’ve invited him along.

But he emailed me when he got back home, thanking me for a good time and offering to reciprocate if I’d be passing through California on my way up to Gerlach. He also complimented me: “You are smokin’ hot when you throw the post x 2.” I was flattered. And I responded that yes, indeed, I would be in Marin between NYC and NV.

So when I got to San Rafael I let him know I was local and we made plans. I showed up at his house at 8 and we had a few beers, chatting like mad. We walked into town to see some live music; I don’t think we even looked at the band much less listened to it, but we had a few more beers. Then we strolled back to his place where I drank water. (This being California, I didn’t want to drive too drunk.) He asked if I wanted to spend the night and offered the couch, but I demurred.

As we stood in his driveway, saying goodnight, I wasn’t sure if the date had been a romantic date or a, you know, hang out kinda date. He hugged me goodbye and I think he might’ve tried to give me a kiss but, again, I couldn’t be sure. It has been so long since someone’s been interested in me I couldn’t tell! My flirtometer is broken!

I followed up on our “date” with an effusive thank you, telling him I hadn’t enjoyed the company of another human being quite that much in a very long time! We both said we hoped to see each other out on the playa. And we exchanged camp locations.

Fast forward a few weeks and we both made a few attempts to find each other. I stopped by his camp and asked if he was around. I came home to a note from him in my trailer. I dropped off some stickers I made for him. He asked about me at the DPW Fuel Station. But, sadly, our playa rendezvous was not to be.

So when I moved back into town I emailed him, asking if he wanted to get together before I headed back to Manhattan. He responded almost immediately. Yay, a good sign! So after returning to San Rafael I let him know I was local again. And…nothin’. I was kinda bummed. But then he showed up at the DPW BBQ at SF Decom. Big hug. Good to see you. All that. And then he had to go work. He emailed me later in the evening but I’d already disappeared.

So more days went by and eventually we made plans. I met him at a bar in the city, where he was seeing a friend’s band. We had a few beers and lasted long after the band had left. We wound up wingin’ drink coasters at the bar staff and laughing with a random handful of patrons, eventually bumbling out the door a few moments before 2am. Not wanting the evening to end (I guess) he said we should get something to eat, so I followed him to Grub Stake. After gravy fries (for me) and eggs (for him) we were standing in the street. And this time there was no “almost” or question about whether there was any romance. He went right in for the kiss. And we stood there, making out, with a light rain falling.

So yeah. Not just one real date but TWO real dates. With a real guy. Who I met in real life. Let’s see what happens next! Cause he’s in NYC quite a bit. And I’m often out west. Sooooo…..

Flattery vs. Insanity

Chatting at the bar yesterday, I told a few folks (friends and strangers alike) that I was considering taking my OKC profile down. It’s been so depressing, between the old men checking me out and nothing coming of the men who do write. I had a date on Tuesday who cancelled, saying he was stuck at the office. Perhaps. But it’s just as likely that he chickened out. It’s also difficult dealing with insults from men who I wouldn’t even consider. That situation culminated with Mr. Meh, of Monday’s “A Meh-n of Few Words.”

And then, today. Mr. Military Nutjob, resident of Miami, Florida (but still “in war zone”), emails me:

hey long time do still have interest in me??

I respond:
Did I ever? You live too far away!

Our back and forth continued thusly:

yea i like you so much and i know we are going to be together forever i believe that so much just give me change in your heart and let me bring joy and hapiness and everlasting love i like you so much
can i have your IM so that we can chat and know more about each other

Are you kidding me?
How can you say that? You don’t even know me.
I don’t have an IM.
And you live in FLORIDA!

am telling you how am feeling about you….Am still in war zone but soon i will retired and i will be home to start a new life.so am searching for love so when am done i will be home to be with the one i love and get married.i want you can i have your email.

No.
You’re insane.
Look elsewhere.

i want so much in my life i want to start a new life i want your love
why are doing these i my not handsome cus of am far away thst why you are refusing me

No I am refusing you because you are CRAZY!

me okay you can say whatever to me i dont care i like u

Good bye. You are now BLOCKED.

Uh, yeah. And check out this gem’s profile:

What I’m doing with my life: military
I’m really good at: singing and dacing
The first things people usually notice about me: honest
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food: hip pop [awesome.]
The six things I could never do without: singing ,dancing shooting shouting ,eating [shooting shouting?!?]
I spend a lot of time thinking about: my love
The most private thing I’m willing to admit: loving
Ethnicity: White
Height: 6’10” [6’10”?!?! I think not.]
Body Type: Average
Drinks: Not at all [SO much in common!]
Religion: Christianity and very serious about it [SUPER!]
Job: Military
Speaks: English [barely]
So am I subconsciously still on OKC to receive these insane missives? Do I feel somehow flattered when lunatics make psychotic cyber-passes at me? Are their passes better than the alternative, which is…nothing? Seriously. I’m contemplating paying for sex. Currently accepting applications!