I’m doing the internet dating thing…yeah, nobody really likes it but we’re desperate, right? It’s like going to the prom with the only guy that actually asked you. You still try your best not to screw it up. Someone walks up to you, “You must be Katharine?” Good thing you posted a relatively current photo of yourself, because no one in this room looks anything like any one you saw on the internet. Try not to judge, try not to judge. Where’s the waiter, need wine, STAT. Why are my legs so long? What am I supposed to do with them? Don’t cross your arms; it’s a sign of hostility. Hands to big! If one glass of wine makes you this charming and witty, imagine what 2 would do? Who wears Miami Vice white linen trousers anymore? Do you look that dated? Dating over the age of 60 is a delicate matter. You really, really want to Photoshop your picture. We all think we are still 32, right? What the hell happened? Rejection is a lot easier to take in cyberspace than face to face. You want him to at least show up for the date (well, maybe he did) or you get stuck with that appalled & panicked look, too late to flee. So like I said, you are now twice as witting and charming. You notice some guy at the bar staring at you as you slide down the couch. But it’s comfortable! You talk about movies you’ve seen, pets, etc. You really want to ask what precipitated his divorce and why his kids are no longer speaking to him. All important clues. He skips the question of why you’ve never been married, (read: disobedient, independent, defiant). Guys like to talk about themselves, thank God. Why didn’t you get married? I mean really, dating now has a whole different motive, and apparently, it’s not that compelling. Sure, there are those guys that come right out in their profile with “must have a lively libido”. Not really looking to be groped & fondled. Then to ones that list out all the reasons why you need not respond. Yup, I’m up for that. Did I mention I live on an Island? Yeah, lovely place, everyone wants to be here. But it’s a little like Gilligan’s Island, remember that, Giligan’s Island? Ship wrecked with about 7 other folks, seemingly forever? There’s not much of a dating pool here. Lots of couples, others looking for Sport’s Illustrated swim suit models, and a whole lot of Gilligans. Now you’re really relaxed, sharing an appetizer of calamari, even though you heard somewhere that half the time it’s actually sphincter, you keep that to yourself. Hey this is going pretty OK, you think. “what do you think so far?” you very unwisely say. So you are in the parking lot, politely exchanging business cards for a reunion that you know is never to take place. It was because of my back seat was a jumble of stuff destined for the donation center, right? Now, I’m sitting on the back porch, typing, talking to wild birds who come right up to steal bites of dog food & give me their sideways glances. That guy sure missed out.
Posted on: Fri, 18 Oct 2013 01:00:44 +0000
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