serial storytelling

Searching for Pikachu

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I’m in Florida at the moment, and, naturally, checked in on Bumble and Tinder to see who’s here…who’s been waiting for me all his life.

There was an alarming number of widowed, single fathers whose friends had, just 5 days ago, convinced them to go on. There were also several who lived far, far away. I can’t figure out how or why we matched. They were all in search of true love. They all want to be happy again. (Note to all, men and women alike: Looking for happiness shouldn’t be like playing Pokemon Go. Look for matches. Look for dates. Look for the love of your life. But don’t rely on that to deliver happy if you don’t already embrace it.)

One stood out. Fun looking photos. Mid 50’s and retired; I needed to know how that was. We texted back and forth for several days. Seemed like we had similar likes. We were both interested in simplifying and downsizing our lives. We get our news from the same news sources, of particular importance during this crazy election year.

We realized I was staying very close to where he lives, so we tried to make a lunch plan. Lunch never happened because he was about to have surgery. Turns out, “retired at 54” is code for “on disability.”

Also turns out that “simplifying and just enjoying life” is code for “living with my parents.” The icing? He was using his mother’s phone.

 

 

Let Me Elaborate

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I wasn’t very clear yesterday, I know. The Reader’s Digest version, right to the point…I had a great time, felt connected and comfortable, but didn’t see it amounting to a LTR (long term relationship, for any of you not used to the dating site lingo). Why not? There were reasons, feelings, but now I can’t put my finger on them. Maybe I never did. (I will bring this topic to my therapist’s couch and spare you, readers.)

What I wanted to do…planned to do…was get together again and be truthful. I’m not always in step with social code; I don’t do things the way other people do. I color outside the lines. Dance to my own drummer. Talk to strangers. But I know that sometimes I’m inappropriate; I listened to too many people and began to doubt myself. I’m angry with myself for not trusting my instincts, especially at someone else’s expense.

Even more so at the expense of someone I know values honesty and had demonstrated that from day one. Sadly, the societal norm (like the stories more common to my pages) dictated how I behaved. I fucked up. My respect and appreciation for his candid reproach is beyond measure.

Thank you, Neil, for being smarter and braver than I.

I have more to say about first dates. Next time.

 

 

 

 

 

Can You Hear Me Now?

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Written communication has its flaws, especially when you don’t know the other person. It’s hard as the reader. It’s hard as the writer. Sometimes it requires an interpreter. Like one sequence of messages in which I was recently engaged (more like ensnared).

I read his profile, assessed his photos, took the leap, and favorited him. He responded with lyrics, and asked me to identify the artist. I googled the answer and wrote back, admitting that I’d done the search (and earned props for the effort). He wrote back…normally a good sign.

With each successive message (and there were a few back and forth), I became more confused. I wasn’t sure if he was still quoting songs. I didn’t know if he was being philosophical or snarky. I said I was “confused, but curious.”  He was confused by my confusion, and curious about my curiosity. I felt like he was talking in code and I didn’t have the key.

He messaged me a couple more times, but he’d lost me by then.

25 years ago I invited a mom and her daughter (I hardly knew them) over for lunch and a playdate. I’ll save you the details and tell you the afternoon was an awkward disaster. Such an awkward disaster that, by the end of the afternoon, we had bonded over it, and we’re still sharing the laugh.

The relevance of this tale? We were face to face and committed to an afternoon, and we found our connection. I’m resolved to go back to my earlier dating resolution; once we’ve connected online, it’s time to meet. Or not. But no more mysterious pen pals.

Later…I Promise

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I favorited him. He messaged me. Likes my photos. Likes my profile. Do I want to chat or, better, meet for coffee? OK! Here’s my number. I prefer meeting to phone date…awkward and counterproductive. Call or text and we can set something up. Or message me back on site.

You, readers, already know where I’m going with this…nowhere. Right. Is it out of the question I’ll hear from him? Of course not. Sitting by the phone? Definitely not. But our phones are generally sitting by us, so we keep checking. Like waiting for college acceptance or that million dollars from Publishers Clearing House. Refresh.

The problem, according to me, is that getting in touch feels more like making a doctor’s appointment than something we optimistically anticipate. We’ll message later. Remind ourselves to follow up. Just…not right now.

More On Organic vs. Virtual

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Let’s say you meet someone; let’s say at a friend’s party.

When you’re introduced, your host tells each of you about the volunteer work that the other does. Some common ground. You talk about the personal experiences that led you to your causes, and about the ways each of you contribute.

One extraneous comment sets conversation in a new direction, and you learn that you’re both super-fans of the same team. That you grew up in the towns right next to each other and hung out at some of the same places way back when (you probably never met back then because of the 2 year age difference).  You rescued the same breed of dog. Did I mention that he went to grad school at an esteemed university and is well respected in his field?

Now, let’s equate that initial conversation with viewing each other’s profiles. The basic profile formats provide the same types of information regarding background and areas of common interest (education, tennis, movies). Call that a wash (or close enough).

In one of my earliest posts, I mocked the not-so-humble essays that tell us about the well educated, fit, adventure-seeking connoisseur who loves his family and the beach. It’s time I reconsidered. What, after all, are our options?

It is a struggle to write our essays. I mean…of course everybody’s talking themselves up. (For today, I’m not addressing liars.) We do, after all, have interests that are important parts of who we are; we all participate in the world in different ways. And if their tones were more modest…well…mightn’t they seem insincere? We wouldn’t look twice if he presented himself in negative terms!

I’ve championed the less-is-more essay. On the other hand, I find it difficult to message a man who hasn’t included something specific in his profile for me to address. I’m going to try a new approach.

I learn the most about myself by looking back over decisions I’ve made and how I’ve spent my time when it was mine to spend. I’m going to apply that to a new set of profile essays and let my recent activities speak for me. I’ll include events I attended and TV shows I watched. Work I did. Restaurants. Movies. Books. Maybe some silly anecdote.

Groundbreaking? Doubt it, but will let you know if it has any impact.

Any Friend of Your’s…

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In college, I met my future ex-husband through a friend, Joe. Joe introduced two other friends of his who are now married. Years later, he met one of their other friends, and they formed a relationship that lasted several years. None of these were fix-ups, just friends meeting friends.

When my sister was backpacking after college, her college friend told her to look for his good friend from high school, also travelling. They did meet, and have been friends ever since.

So there’s some logic to the sites that let us know how many facebook friends we share with our match. But we all know that “facebook friends” are not necessarily our real friends. They may be acquaintances, or people we met once. They may be people we worked with, or someone we knew very, very well a very, very long time ago. Our old babysitters and teachers. Our kids’ friends and friends’ kids.

Friend of a friend on facebook is not equivalent to joining mutual friends for some shared experience. If you’re at your friends dinner party, your hosts considered how the combined guests might connect for comfortable and interesting conversation. Not so with random and broad facebook connections.

There’s a potential downside to the mutual friend. Maybe that friend is an old flame. Or you don’t intertwine your work and social relationships. And, if your shared friend knows you’re dating and knows “he’s” dating, why haven’t they thought to introduce you? Or did they, and then decide against it? Why? What if the mutual friend is uncomfortable answering your questions about your match?

Of course, it’s possible that the mutual friend connection could play out well and help things along. Like when we have mutual love for dogs and Italian food, a proven formula for success.

How You Doin’?

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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?

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?

A Happy Ending?

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I was with a friend of mine the other night. Single woman, mid-thirties.

For several years she didn’t date. She had her reasons. It’s been about 3 years since she’s entered the dating pool and she’s embraced the process. As a matter of fact, soon after learning that I was newly single she was encouraging me to dive in, too. Not to meet “him” necessarily, but to have fun.

We talked about My Frog Princes, dating sites, and then more specifically, about our individual experiences. She showed me her list, started January 2013.

64 guys! That’s actual dates! Remember the men my age who are looking for younger women? This younger woman says “no thank you” (or “ick”) when she hears from them.

The list includes where they went or what they did on first dates. It got interesting when she shared the encoded details. Here’s how they break down: 43 first dates (kissed 9); 4 second dates; 7 third or fourth; 4 relationships that lasted a month or more; 11 more than kissed, less than sex; had sex with 7. Always on her own terms. That’s why she’s been enjoying the process and stays in the game.

Now there’s someone special in her life, the list filed away. Dare we believe in a happy ending (of the fairy tale type, perverts)?