match.wtf–part deux
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match.wtf–part deux
I wish I had all the answers and could offer the last word about dating over the age of 50–sadly, I don’t have answers, only questions. As a member of match.com, do I really know who’s attached to the smiling faces accompanying earnest emails with promises of home-cooked meals, foot massages and first-class travel around the world?

No, even with my FBI-worthy research skills, I’m only able to confirm the identities of a handful of men (I hope they’re men) who are part of the big dating computer in the sky. And more than a handful have been absolute imposters claiming to be someone they are not.

It seems everyone wants a soulmate (what in the hell does that mean??), walks on the beach at sunset and sexual chemistry that rivals Mount Vesuvius. There are so many self-proclaimed widowers, I’m wondering if there’s some cancer spike in southern California I’m clueless about that’s taking out wives like a 95-mile-an-hour fastball (I’m watching the World Series, so baseball is top of mind–Go Royals!!). So much easier to say the marriage ended with a funeral rather than with some tarted-up hoe and a six-pack in the back seat of a BMW.

(To real widowers who are truly grieving, please accept my condolences–and apologies).

Some of my gay BFFs love to weigh in with their hormone-revved thought processes–“Loosen up; let’em know you’re open to some chocolate martinis and naked Twister.” Maybe–if I were in my 30s and all my parts were still in their original locations.

I’ve conferred with my single, straight sisters–fun, beautiful, bright women, sexy women–and the same issues come up over and over. We’ve all witnessed a lazy approach to dating among the male match pool–texting is sufficient, like middle school boys syncing plans for after class, and those plans are tentative, I assume as these lotharios wait for a better offer. I’m sure there are women who play the same games, but I’ve had guys admit to me that they are bombarded by women who could be long-term relationship material–while most women are digging through the earth’s crust to China to find a guy worthy of a coffee date.

My esteemed writer friend who’s surely reading this calls her hubby of 40+ years her “gentleman friend” in her blog. I doubt if I have 40 years left, but I’m looking for a gentle man who can be a friend, who likes to hold hands and is realistic about his physical prowess. I’ve seen more action shots of guys trekking up or rappelling down sheer cliffs and roaring over river rapids than in a program on Discovery Channel. Really??? What do you do for an encore? And please, those with bad hair plugs, as much gold jewelry as Midas and selfies with your shirts unbuttoned down to south of the border need not apply.

I’m dedicating this post to my single peeps, the ravishing Madame Barbara and radiant Ms. J Go (her skin’s as pretty as J Lo’s) who, like me, are still hoping the glass is half full. What we’d love to know is this, dear readers: Do you think there’s a chance at a real relationship after 50 with someone who is age appropriate and not looking to max out his supply of Cialis in two day’s time?? Please weigh in…

And, I can’t let this one go: To the guy I had one date with who so rudely proclaimed, “The Royals don’t have a chance–the Mets will take the series in four games,” you’re an idiot, now have a nice day!


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