humor

How You Doin’?

~ What's in a Profile? ~ 2 Comments

Saturday:  I was just chatting on one of the sites. I signed off without letting him know I was leaving; he was freaking me out. Not in a threatening way. Can’t even say he was creepy. Too persistent…catches me every time I’m there. On the particular site, I don’t think there is a way to sign in invisibly.

I did start chatting with him after he made a third request in as many days…gotta admire his tenacity. I hadn’t responded earlier because I think he’s skimming more than a couple of years off his age, based on photos. I understand vanity, but, also enough already with the liars (there are way too many of them). We get it. You want to attract someone younger. Guess what. Us too.

What sent me running, though, was the series of lines. A compliment is nice. He reached out, so I asked what he was doing. He answered that he was thinking about a date with me. I asked about his weekend plans…hopefully spending time with me. Stop it! Don’t tell me you’d like to have a conversation; have a conversation! Ask a question (and not “where’d you find the fountain of youth?”).

Sunday: Today he asked why I stopped chatting and said he’d like to get to know me. Nope. Then I feel bad about not answering (since I feel bad when I don’t receive a response).

Tuesday: He’s still messaging me, this time with a question about my weekend. I can say with certainty that he’s not “the one.” Begs the question, is it nice or mean that I responded to his question/message? I really don’t know (and am very interested, reader, in your take on this).

A Picture Paints A Thousand Words

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Here’s my thousand words on profile photos. (1000 words is a lot of words. Forgive me when I fail to live up to the adage.)

Profile photos. Our photos are the first and most prominent parts of our profiles. We all know it. I consider how I look, where I am, how I’m dressed, and what I’m doing. I want to project who I am, and in the best possible light. This is where our narratives begin.

The scuba-diver is telling us he’s active and adventurous. The award winner on the podium wants us to know he’s respected for his achievements. He’s a skier…runner…musician…biker (either racing or gang variety).  Boater. Traveler. Trainer. Pet Lover. These types of photos tell us something, presumably something important, about a person. More, they’re telling us what they want us to know, first and foremost. This makes sense to me.

What doesn’t make sense? Blurry photos, dark photos, low res photos. We carry cameras with us at all times (if you don’t, everyone else does); you can come up with ONE decent quality photo! And, do yourself a favor, don’t shoot it into the bathroom mirror.

For those who have succeeded in obtaining a photo, congratulations. But you’re not there yet. Don’t post the photo of you winking and toasting the camera; ick. Clearly naked (even if we’ll never really know for sure)? Ick. Just your dog (or car, or boat, or sunset)? C’mon. A very popular setting that I don’t get…selfie in driver’s seat of car. Why there? Were you bored at a red light?

Next, there are the photos that tell some story, but I’m not sure what that story is, or to whom he hopes to appeal. The face-painted sports fan; frat boy? One in which the guy appears to be wearing his school band uniform (or shooting the cover of Sargent Pepper’s). Huh? One guy is wearing a foot-wide, floppy bow tie, really. One is dressed head to toe in his (I’m guessing) favorite team’s gear. Not odd for my nephews, but I’m looking at profiles of men in their 50’s and up!

You get the point. I may not be your type; you may not be mine. But a little more thought might go a long way.

Speaking of long ways…I didn’t make it to 400 words. Better this way, right?

Small World

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A week or so ago I signed up for my first swiping site. It took me a few attempts to get the hang of it. When I meant to be looking through photos, I was actually accepting and declining. Next mistake, I didn’t realize that it automatically updated for my location.

I’m down in Florida for a quick visit with my parents. I opened the app. At first, it didn’t register with me that the men I was viewing were Floridians. Once it did, I decided to go with it; I’m down here enough if anyone turned out to be interesting. Someone has.

Someone just like me, who didn’t realize when he landed from the UK that he was viewing locals. Dumb luck. We texted for a day. Then we talked on the phone. Naturally, this call was the easiest of my calls so far (the accent didn’t hurt). With only one possible time slot that we’re both in town without commitments, we’re meeting later for a drink.

As always, details will follow for you, my voyeurs.

For Mature Audiences

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One of my friends takes full advantage of the internet and its offerings (wink, wink). He was a pioneer in the field and I value his expertise (if not always his judgement). His casual, late night encounters would, no doubt, rival any others.

Going into my first Saturday night date (guy who subsequently met his true love, and is, duh, back on the site now), he gave me advice, “bring condoms.” My reaction, “I am not having sex tonight.”

Him: Listen to me. If you think there’s any chance of something more with this guy, then don’t go too far. But, if he’s hot and you’re not going to see him again, get a hotel room and fuck the shit out of him…break the ice.

Delicate, prudish me must admit that he makes a good point.

Slip Out the Back, Jack

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Exit strategies…particularly appropriate to discuss following my last post.

After a comfortable, pleasant date, I received an email letting me know that he had met his special someone in the days after our date. Was he just letting me down easy? Whether or not it’s the truth, he was kind and considerate enough to let me know I wouldn’t be hearing from him.

My friend Amy had been on two dates with a man who was calling to make plans for the third. She wasn’t interested. She couldn’t say she’d met someone; they’d been introduced by a mutual friend and she might be found out. It was wrong to both the man and the friend to ignore his calls.

My daughter suggested the obvious. The fade away. “I can’t this week. No, not next week either. I’m just so busy this month. I’m under too much stress at work; it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be around me. I think I’m getting sick; I don’t want you to catch it. My friend is coming to town and staying with me; I have no idea when she’s leaving.”

There’s no easy way to say it. No easy way to hear it. But nicer is…well…nicer.

Any “exit strategy” you’d like to share?

Define “Success”

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A couple of weeks ago I was perusing the daily specials, the menu of men that one site was recommending for me. One stood out. I’m not sure why, but something…. I messaged him and said just that.

We emailed back and forth, agreed we should meet, and made a plan. Sounds easy, but it took us weeks to come up with a time. He picked an interesting place for drinks. I appreciated the effort that went into finding a good spot. We were off to a good start; this was the first date I’ve gone into optimistically.

It also marked another dating milestone; my first ever nighttime date (and a Saturday, no less!). Threw me into a tizzy of wardrobe decisions. I sent photos of me in various ensembles to friends in a group text. I left them to discuss the options and make the decision while I showered. Thank you, village-it-took-to-dress-me.

We had tons of things in common. We talked about the arcs of our families and how we had gotten to this same place. We share political views and social sensibilities. We both have casual styles. After talking for over 2 hours (and only a couple of drinks each), we were surprised how much time had passed. We parted with a slightly awkward hug and agreed that this had been a successful date. We would definitely do it again.

But what did we mean by successful? There were no sparks. It was a nice evening. Which is what I said in my brief email the next day; “thanks for a very nice evening.” A couple of days passed, and I heard back.

Ready? He wrote to tell me that he had met someone…he believed “the one,” in the days since we’d met (I believe he was sincere). He was kind and encouraging, and thoughtful enough to let me know. I’m nothing but happy for him, for them, and for their fireworks.

Full Disclosure

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So we’ve made some connection and a couple of emails have passed between us. Now what? Do we step out from the site and share our personal email addresses? How much am I willing to share without meeting? And how much do I actually want to know?

In the early days of email, our addresses were cryptic and anonymous. Now we so commonly use our names that signatures are redundant. Sharing personal email with a new flirtation is the gateway to Google searches and Facebook stalking.

Is this OK? I’m not sure. To protect myself and maintain some control, I have a separate email account sans last name. Unnecessarily optimistic, since I’ve googled me and found only trace signs that I exist. I’ve found others with my same name. Even a photo of my ex-husband.  Do I have to go public with My Frog Princes to put myself on the map? Naaa.

But when I get the passcode into his world, I use it. Hesitantly. I’ll do some precautionary due diligence, but I don’t want to dig too deep. How can we really understand things we read when they lack context? Bad intel may lead to unmerited high hopes or create unwarranted negative expectations. Do we admit to having done the searches, or is it taken for granted that we both will (The correct answer is “yes.”)?

When we learn too much in advance, what will we talk about if we meet? If we already know the answers to the interview questions, and there’s no connection, then what? Check our phones for emails?

The Personal Essay; An Overview

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The dating site’s matrix determines that we are both dog lovers and like to travel, we both eat and…small world…go to the gym. 100% match! The cornerstones of our real profiles are the personal essays and photos. The essay is our pitch, the chance to tell our stories and describe ourselves as we perceive we are perceived. Or hope we are perceived. Or how we would like to perceive ourselves.

We try to highlight our most unique, positive and desirable traits. Turns out most people like to laugh, are trustworthy, and are charitable. Our pasts are in our pasts. Everybody’s kids are the most important things in their lives (I hope we’re treating them as such.). And everyone just wants to meet someone nice to share nights by the fire, be Harry to Sally. (Or vice versa, or two Harrys, or two Sallys. As I am women seeking man, I’ll write in that tense.)

Some essays begin with the list of positive attributes. He’s “handsome, honest, caring, funny, successful, and modest.” Clearly modest. He’s a skydiving, mountain climbing, surfing, guitar player; when he drinks, he drinks Dos Equis.

What about the men who invite women to message them if “you have beautiful, long legs?” They bring my insecurities right to the surface. I wish I was the sexy, classy, sophisticated, accomplished woman you seek. Most of us aren’t. Most of us, and most of you, are good, regular people trying to lead good, regular lives.

The essays that make me read on have natural voices. If he cares to, he proofreads. If he’s funny, his essay is funny. If he’s casual, his tone is casual. If he’s honest, it doesn’t feel like a pitch. They leave me curious, wanting to know more.

How Did I Get Here?

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Every relationship I ever had with a man evolved out of an existing social situation; we were friends who took it to the next level. I’ve never been on a date…not once, ever. Now that my 26 year marriage is over I’m constantly faced with the question, “Are you dating yet?”

First I wasn’t ready. Then I was. But how? I’m always meeting new people and putting myself into social situations. I figured I’d meet date-able men organically. So far, nope. The one man in over a year who piqued my interest wasn’t interested.

I’ve joined the pay-to-date world of online dating sites. No prince charming yet. A few nibbles. A few interesting communication threads. Some booty calls and weird contacts. Last week, my first ever date.

Why

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I’m new to online dating. Actually, I’m new to dating. I’ve heard stories from friends about their experiences, and been warned that this wasn’t going to be easy. It’s not.

It’s impersonal, yet I take it personally sometimes. It’s calculated, so it’s hard to be natural. It takes some trial and error, but…I’m not sure what I expect.

Every time I sign on I see men who seem interesting, men who seem smart, men who seem arrogant, men who seem sweet, men who seem my “type” and men who don’t. Some are trying too hard, some not hard enough. Sometimes too many photos, sometimes too few. And I know that when men view my profile, they assess me the same way.

I am going to share my experiences and opinions. I’ll also share stories I’ve been told, and invite you to share your stories and impressions as well. Two rules: 1. Be nice. 2. Respect privacy. We are all vulnerable and doing our best. And to all my frog princes, good luck finding your Cinderella!