The Not-So-Young and Restless

When I decided to start a blog, one principle guided me: it had to be an honest, real account of my journey.  No scripted moments in the Wideaux’ Peek!  So now, I’ve come to a point that I’ve debated sharing, then decided to just go with it. 

Have you ever noticed that when you want something, everyone else seems to have it?  Like when you’re trying to get pregnant, you can’t go anywhere without seeing massive baby bumps.  For the past couple of days, I’ve been pretty blue.  I miss Bunny, but I really miss the affection you can’t (or shouldn’t) get from a blood relative.   It seems everywhere I look, I see couples holding hands, or kissing or hugging or talking, heads together over dinner or coffee.  Then I thought how nice it would be to Skype my mother; she’d be full of wise-cracks and platitudes.  Of course, you know how that turned out.  For those of you who came in late, my mom died 27 days after my husband.

So, back to my current situation.  I love hugs and kisses and hand-holding and all that mushy stuff—I always have.   The Irish and French blood in me seem to dominate: I am fiery and fierce and passionate.  In the words of Janet Jackson’s song I Miss You Much, “I’m not the kind of girl who likes to be alone.”   So, to find the supplier of this much-needed affection, I turned to the place I always do to look for things: the Internet.  For those of you who think it’s too soon, I can only say this: my sitting home alone isn’t going to bring Bunny back.  He fully expected that I’d be looking for companionship, and is probably a bit surprised that I waited as long as I did.

Before I get to the good stuff, let me be clear: I don’t need a man in order to survive.  I’ve been on my own before, and I’m dealing with all the day-to-day things—bills, chores, house upkeep—without much difficulty.  I’m comfortable with who I am and don’t need another person to validate me.   As much self-esteem as I have, though, I can’t hug and kiss myself.  

I’m probably the least patient person on earth, but I’m at least I’m decisive.  No debating for days on end here—once I decide to do something, I do it.  A few weeks ago, I signed up to three dating web sites: eHarmony, Plenty of Fish and Our Time.  Hey, a girl’s gotta cover her bases!   I filled out the profiles on each (which are basically the same) and uploaded the best pictures of myself that I could find.   So far, the results have been…underwhelming.

Granted, I’m no Angelina Jolie, but I’m not Quasimodo, either.   I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I’m trying.  Plus, I haven’t gone back to smoking, despite the fairly overwhelming stressors in my life.  I kept my profiles positive and said the only things I was looking for in my match were intelligence, a good sense of humor, and a kind heart.   Not too much to ask.   Each of the sites purports to match people based on shared interests or qualities, but you can further narrow the search with preferences.  I set my preferences:  age between 45-65, location within 25 miles, any race, any religion, any education level.  

I’m pretty open-minded, but the age limitation was a comfort-zone kind of thing.  I’m comfortable dating a little younger, and a lot older.  Bunny was the youngest guy I’d ever dated, and he was still 10 days older than I was.  The oldest I’d ever dated—Dexter, a detective that those of you from back in the day in the AP probably remember—was 16 years older than I was.  I was a newly-divorced single mom at the time, and my mother was opposed to my dating someone that much older.  My step-father, though, took the approach that life is too short to be concerned about age differences, and his opinion on the subject got Mama to back off.  As for the geographical restriction, I just don’t have the kind of time or energy for a long-distance relationship.

Plenty of guys look at my profiles—I know, because each of the sites lets me know who’s checked me out.  I’ve sent some messages to a few of my “matches” when I felt like we had a lot in common.   I’ve gotten a few messages from my “matches,” but more from guys who could not have been even remotely matched to me.  

eHarmony was the first site I signed up to.  After a fairly exhaustive questionnaire, I was confident that the matches I’d get would be promising.  So far, not so much.  Of the three, eHarmony seems to have the best-dressed, most attractive demographic.  It has a guided communication option, which most people seem determined to use.   The farthest I’ve gotten is Step 2 (there are at least 4).  I’ve tried cutting to the chase and going outside the guided communication to send e-mails directly, but haven’t had any luck with that route.  eHarmony doesn’t seem to take my preferences into consideration—it sends me a lot of matches from the Vero Beach area, which is nowhere NEAR where I live.  Maybe I should move to the east coast.  Nah!

My cousin Vicki suggested Our Time, the idea of which kind of rankled on me at first, because it advertises to the over 50 set.  However, reality-checking told me that—duh—I was about to be 50, so I bit the bullet and signed up there.   Surprisingly enough, there are lots of people on Our Time who are way under 50.  And even more who are not.  Our Time, in addition to skewing older, seems to attract surprisingly picky men.  One Joe Pesci look-alike,  who describes himself as good looking and 5’8” is “looking for an attractive, slim, or toned in shape brunette or blond non-smoker social drinker” and ends by specifying that potential matches be “YOUNG LOOKING” and “NO PHOTO NO RESPONSE---- DON'T WASTE OUR TIME.”  Newsflash, Pisano—I can lose weight and get plastic surgery, but nothing you can do will make you taller.

I did get a nice note from a guy who clearly fell outside my preferences, hailing from Dallas (Texas, not Georgia) and being a very young 73.  I don’t know how Daddy would feel about my dating a guy older than he is, but the geographic distance, alone, makes this guy undesirable.   I’ve also noticed a lot of guys on Our Time have their e-mail addresses spelled out in their profiles, like lizlanier at rocketmail dot com.  These are guys who are putting their contact information out without having to pay for a membership.  You could look at this maneuver several ways: either they’re: 1) thrifty/crafty; 2) cheap; or 3) poor.  Any way you look at it, they’re not committed enough to invest in the process.  Since a lot of them are retirees, maybe they’re living on fixed incomes. 

Finally, there’s Plenty of Fish, which now calls itself POF.  This site seems to have a mix of the eHarmony and Our Time crowd.  Some of the guys here do the membership-dodging trick, too.  Of the three, this site has been the most fruitful.  I’ve gotten lots of messages from guys I’d never have considered (although I do prefer men with teeth and good grammar), including one very young admirer (32) with whom I’ve chatted online a few times.  He’s black, which doesn’t bother me, but so very young!  I’m no Demi Moore, and look how that whole thing turned out for her, anyway.  He’s only two years older than Joey, and that’s the sticking point for me.  

I’ll meet him for coffee as soon as I get a moment, and see if I can overcome my age objections.  JoCo, meanwhile, have been throwing Lisa Lampanelli-esc barbs my way, but I think it’s funny.  I told 32 that, if things went anywhere between us, it would be like How Stella Got Her Groove Back.  I hope he’s not so young that he didn’t understand the reference.