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?

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!

Is Romance in the Air?

I recently hosted another one of my singles’ mixers. It seemed like a success; a few people exchanged numbers. One of my friends opted not to attend, feeling somewhat crestfallen after a less than pleasant blind date. But she called me today to let me know that she met someone last night. This guy sounds promising and my fingers are crossed for her. Another friend opted out as well, still smarting from a short-lived relationship, but attended a party over the weekend and met someone he’s excited to see again.

It may seem overly optimistic to predict a trend based on only two instances but I’m calling it! Perhaps it’s the planets or maybe it’s the holiday season. Whatever the reasons, I sense romance is in the air!

Yesterday I received a mysterious email.:

it was quite by chance that lost in key food I found myself recognizing you in the spice aisle on black Friday. As I later (vanilla extract in basket) stood behind you in the self checkout queue my thoughts danced betwixt, wow her red hair is so long, impressive, nice figure, should I thank her for the mention in the NY mag piece about being razzed floral bouquet in hand or invite her to play some pinball at Manitoba’s, be told off for being so fresh in person. If you’d like to have a beer or play some pinball on a quiet night, let me know.

I responded: Wow. I feel like I’m in a Nora Ephron movie! Or looking on Craigslist at those “Missed Connections” ads! 
If you saw me in Key Food, chances are I wasn’t at my most glamorous, so I appreciate your kind words! Hah! Er, HO HO HO! My long hair is in desperate need of a trim; I’m waiting for my friend who does hair to visit from Marseille! 
Umm…I would be up for pinball and a beer at Manitoba’s any time. (Well, ALMOST any time…my tendency to over schedule myself goes against my ability to be spontaneous…) 

Way back in the springtime I wrote a “Sex Diary.” It was more like a “no sex diary.” The New York Magazine feature is a week-long diary chronicling the sexual activities — or in my case, the lack thereof — of the writers. I felt compelled to contribute my non-sex week mostly to drive home the point that not everyone is getting laid every fucking minute and that those of us who are 50-plus and single experience even less action. Not like that’s new to you, my dear readers! Anyway, the “assignment” is to write down not only sex acts but include masturbation and flirtation. I found myself really “reaching” and, at one point, mentioned receiving an email on OKCupid from a handsome man I’d passed on the street. His email:

I am (insert high percentage point here) sure I saw you and made eye contact with a smirk on my face last thursday or friday, I had a bouquet of flowers it was 1st and 5th street and the cops had just razzed me, so the smirk was a combo of them and my fixation on your body….hello.

I wrote back: Hah! I actually recall seeing you! I wondered who you were taking the flowers to, thinking she was a lucky woman!

As I wrote in the Sex Diary, I was flattered that the guy not only was fixated on my body but that he was able to find me amidst the thousands of women on OkCupid and recognize me by my kooky photo! Miraculously, he spotted me again. And it sounds like he’s still inspired by my body. Nice!

As I wrote in my response to him yesterday, it really was like one of those “Missed Connections” ads on Craigslist: “You were on line at Key Food, I was buying vanilla extract.” I’ve often wondered if any of those people ever find each other. I’ve been really working at “focusing outward” lately yet have resisted simply striking up a conversation with someone I found attractive, only to regret it later. I’m afraid to come across as crazy…or desperate. Why do we hold ourselves back this way? In New York City, it could be because who has time to talk to every person they pass? (Or find attractive, for that matter!) So striking up conversations with strangers is frowned upon. But it happens all the time. I bet in all those “how to pick up chicks” books, casual conversation is the rule of thumb. I could always ask for the time…or directions. It is a means to an end. So although it may feel contrived or, like those books may be, insincere, in the pursuit of meeting more of my fellow man, I’m going to strive to speak to more strangers. Handsome strangers!

Online Dating Coach

Today was a full day of…what felt like nothing. I never made it out of my apartment. I brought more boxes up from my storage space in my ongoing efforts of unpacking my belongings and making my apartment feel like home again. I started entering stories for my erotica book into the self-publishing template. And I checked out jobs on Craigslist. which led me to post an ad of my own: Online Dating Coach. The ad reads:

Do you have a profile on one of the many online dating sites? How’s it goin’?
So many people post inarticulate profiles, unflattering photos or worse.
I will make sure you put your best face forward and increase your chances of meeting the woman (or man) of your dreams! Or, more realistically, increase the chances of actually getting a date.
Seriously, the world of online dating is a vast wasteland of unfortunately poor grammar, embarrassing misspellings and blurry bathroom mirror self portraits.
There’s love out there for everyone. Let me help you!
Let’s meet for a cup of coffee. Bring your laptop and in an hour you’ll have a better online presence!
Consulting fee is $50 per hour.

Couldn’t hurt, right? It’s one more of my many attempts to combat my frustration with online dating and the hundreds of functionally illiterate single dudes out there in the ether searching for true love…or a lay. I hate to keep boring you with these idiots but I don’t want to suffer alone! You can read my latest encounters with online losers below, but writing the ad made me focus a bit on what I’ll call Abby’s Rules of Online Dating. There are as follows:

• Post a photo.
• In said photo, don’t wear sunglasses. Or face away from the camera. And if you’re balding, don’t wear a baseball cap. Or any cap. Show your prospective dates who you are..
• Use a real photo. Don’t just take a shot of yourself in your bathroom mirror with your cell phone.
• Post a recent photo. Like, within the last year. And the last few pounds. And the last few hairs. Oy.
• If you pose with your car or boat, you’ll wind up with dates who are only interested in your car or your boat. That’s a personal decision.
• Don’t use a photo that you’ve cut someone else out of.
• Don’t use photos of you in bed or half dressed. Bathing suits are fine if you’re actually at a beach. Or on a boat.
• Don’t post photos of your penis.
• Fill in your profile. If you want someone to be interested in you, you need to provide them with something to be interested IN!
• Have a friend proofread your profile. Misspellings and lousy grammar don’t make a very good impression.
• Don’t send women any of the site’s “canned” greetings, no flirts, winks or other lazy-ass, I-can’t-be-bothered-to-write-a-personal-message messages. Make an effort, fer crissakes!
•  When you email a woman, don’t use any terms of endearment: baby, honey, sweetie, babe, sugar, whatever. You are strangers. Act accordingly.

I’m sure there are more, especially if a guy manages to engage a woman in an online conversation. I just wanted to spit out my personal irritations with most profiles. I actually mention most of this in MY profile and warn men that if they do any of my don’ts they won’t receive a response. But no one bothers to pay attention. (As was evidenced by the guy who thought he was going on a date with a 5’6″, non-tattooed, financially successful Abby. Hah!) So, on with our losers!

An 80-year-old rollerskater from Baltimore, OH, emailed me today:
You do well in anything you put on or pull off. Next put on a pair of roller skates and I will put a pair of tights and skate with you.
Bill
Reading his profile, which included these gems, I am an extremely positive guy who actively applies the blood of Jesus to any errant thought I have, that is then erased, and in so doing, releases God’s creative thinking to take place. I felt motivated to say:
WHAT?!
You do WHAT with the blood of Jesus?!
I’m not interested in seeing you pull on a pair of tights, thank you!
Abby
To which he responded:
What do I do with the blood of Jesus?….I apply it to any errant thought that I have that is judgmental, uncomplimentary, degrading, discouraging, un-creative and needs to be erased from the eternal slate. Do you agree?
Bill
I told him, in no uncertain terms:
No, I do NOT agree. I don’t believe in the blood of Jesus…or Jesus at all, for that matter…
Please don’t impose your religion on strangers.

WTF? I chased another dude off OKCupid.

lovelife_lonely wrote:
Wow you got a nice picture and a cool profile i wonder why you are still single with your beauty i believe with your beauty all the men in your area will always sleep at your door step seeking your hand in a relationship cause your beauty is what all the men on earth are looking for… You really look so beautiful and yummy i wonder why you are still single cause with your beauty i believe all the men in your area will always sleep at your door step seeking your hand in a relationship cause your beauty is what all the man on earth are looking for.. 
Do you have a map please give me the map of your beauty cause have lost in the beauty i see in your eyes.. I am interested in getting to know more about you after reading your profile. I guarantee that I am a nice man am not the perfect either the best i just know how to treat a woman like a queen cause i believe woman are the woman of man… How i wish you are online right now so that we can chat more better but i believe everything happen for a reason i will be very happy to read from you soonest Later Paolo

Did you READ your email before you sent it? You repeated yourself a few times. AND you don’t seem to know how to use punctuation.
You will be “happy to read from me soonest”? What the hell?
A few words of advice:
Proofread your emails.
Punctuate your sentences.
DON’T sound like you’re begging.
Maybe I’m still single because I’m a bitch. Who knows.
Best of luck to you!
A

And Joe, a guy who I’d been emailing with extensively but wound up cancelling our date because he had to get to his cancer treatment, wrote:
don’t get pissed at me and i mean no disrespect but i really love your new picture, it got me horny. joe
And my response:
Uh, yeah. Good to know I can get you horny.
Hope your cancer treatments are going well.
If you aren’t interested in seeing me, you might want to stop emailing me.
Abby

Also good? Hearing that, even with cancer, he’s able to get it up! Bwahahaha! Sorry, I don’t mean to ridicule cancer. But I mean, really. If he actually did have to go to his cancer treatment, I would’ve gladly rescheduled our date. I may come off as callous but I’m not that much of a cunt!

loveyou11’s profile reads:
I am US citizen and have my own settled business.my business is mostly with City, State, counties etc in NJ and NY.
He sends me one of the site’s canned emoticon-embellished “flirts”: I’m interested in you. I respond:
Wow! Hold me back!
A profile with NO PHOTO!
And you’re a CITIZEN! That’s impressive! I can NEVER find me a US citizen. 
Very impressive.
Holy crap.

I’d Fuck Me

All this online dating has had the strangest effect on me: it has made me more confident. Dozens and dozens of men are looking at my photos and profile and reaching out. From 20-somethings to great-grandads, buttoned-up businessmen to corn fed farm boys and just about everything in between, guys are finding me attractive. Which is nice.

It fits with my general attitude about myself, one that’s been fomenting for a while now. When I was younger I didn’t have quite as much self-confidence. Like most women I had body image issues. But over the years I became comfortable in my skin and grew into the self-assured, sexual being I am today. Mind you this was all taking place as chronology was working its evil upon me. Bummer; now that I’m finally able to look in the mirror and like what I see, it’s all sort of…sagging.

Nevertheless, when someone says, “You’re hot!” I tend to believe them. Or at least accept the compliment. My stomach is finally flat. My boobs still look pretty good. (Thank GAWD I didn’t have kids!) My thighs seem slimmer. And I’m not sure if it’s the change in my body chemistry or what, but even my own body odor is an aphrodisiac. Yup, that’s right: I turn myself on! Between my reflection and my aroma, who needs foreplay? Heh.

Yet with all this sexy swagger, I haven’t seen much action recently. I’ve been turning down the much younger men, reluctant to merely help them live out their fantasies and risk becoming a punch line. None of the men my age are doin’ it for me. I’d say I’m aiming for the middle ground but even that isn’t quite right. I’ve been enjoying hangin’ out at home a lot lately and, occasional online date notwithstanding, I’m content with my singlehood. I’d rather be single than settle. And masturbation is certainly more satisfying than a lousy lay.

So until my dream dude comes along — and even if he doesn’t — it’s me and my sex toys. And my mirror!