Adventures in Mid-Life Dating, Part 7: Flirting As A Terrorist Act
Well, you know what they say about insanity, right?
Oh no wait, I meant the
other definition of insanity.
I decided to shake things up a little and give Spinal Tap some competition, and try a more famous dating service. We’ll call it ClassyAss because, according to my research, the men were alleged to be higher quality there. Whatever that meant, but I hoped it meant ‘Fewer dumpy middle-aged guys who couldn’t figure out why their wives had left them.’
You could create a profile for free, and I spent a fair amount of time on that, delaying putting up a photo until I was ready to pay. I couldn’t respond to anyone who reached out to me until I got visual, but I figured no one would as long as there was no photo. And I was right, which made for a switch from Spinal Tap where the men started messaging me while I was literally halfway through profile creation, and hadn’t uploaded a photo. I guess it says something for the level of desperation there.
Unfortunately, I picked a bad night to ‘go live’ as the very next day I got one of those Cheerful Phone Calls (not) from my brother and for the next few days couldn’t think aboout anything except Mom, who’s doing okay at best these days. I had to force myself eventually to check ClassyAss because I didn’t want to blow it with anyone good by not getting back to them (The George Clooney Rule, LOL).
I had about five guys waiting for me, one of whom was fairly peeved that I hadn’t responded to any of his messages. I politely messaged back saying sorry, my mom was in the hospital and I was preoccupied, and thanks for reaching out but sorry, you’re too old for me, and I did state my age range preference in my profile.
He responded back just as politely – this is Canada, after all – and said he understood and hoped my mom got better.
Two others eliminated themselves by being too impatient to have a real conversation either in messaging, text or a phone call before meeting, so I wound up in person with a local lawyer when the phone conversation went really well. The coffee date was just as promising – he was good-looking, funny, interesting, and we had a lot in common. He actually dressed in a sports coat and nice shirt! Since most men are dressed by blind personal assistants, this definitely fell under MAFE (Made A F**kin’ Effort)!
Wow. This was the most engaged I’d been on a coffee date in years. Although it seemed a little weird that Lawyer Guy had been separated from his wife for three years and hadn’t ‘bothered’ to get the divorce yet. I questioned him on this...Um, what are you waiting for? And he replied that the marriage was definitely, absolutely, positively, in every sense of the word except, you know, officially, over. Sans a good answer as to why he hadn’t ‘bothered’ to sever the tie that binds.
A few hours later he called to say he didn’t think it would work out. I was fairly annoyed by this since it had otherwise gone well, but I kept my cool and suggested giving it a little more time. I didn’t think one meeting was enough basis for this snap decision since it had otherwise gone so well, so I made a reasoned pitch for another meeting and told him to think about it overnight, and to get in touch with me again if he wanted to try once more.
The next afternoon, I got a text.
Can you meet me later for a glass of wine?
He picked a pub a conveniently short distance from my office building. Turns out it was highly convenient for him too – since we worked in the same building!
Long story short, we talked a bit more and by the time we finished, I was on board that this wouldn’t work. In fact, about midway through I started not filtering my thoughts or responses and just laid things on the line, knowing he would get increasingly weirded out. Nothing terrible, nothing scandalous, nothing critical of him. He was just a little too traditional and button down to handle someone like me. Plus, well, couldn't be bothered to get divorced after three years.
You never have to fully commit as long as there's a sorta-ex-wife waiting in the wings, right?
We parted on quite agreeable terms, and I thanked him, quite sincerely, for giving it a second chance, because now I understood too that this effort was doomed.
Moral of the story: Don’t blow your cool. Remain rational.
That’s not hard for me to do anymore since most guys are about as engaging as cleaning the bathroom, but this time it had started out so promising. Still, I know that everyone’s a little crazy – including myself – and that there was something weird about that divorce phobia. So, I wish him well and with no rancor in my heart. Finding someone blander than I will be easy in Canada!
Met up with one more guy – Singaporean Dude – the weekend before Easter. He was fourteen years younger than I and a bit of a gamble – he said he wanted kids in his profile, and I said Sweetie, check my age because That Ship Has Sailed – and he said actually kids didn’t matter that much to him, and I said oh yeah, guys always say that when I say that! - (Yeah I’ve met that kind before too, LOL!) - and I don’t know, he got me to agree to meet him, maybe because his messages were interesting, maybe because he was cute – I’m a sucker for cute and I don’t see much of it at my age with all the clueless recent divorcés online. It went well, I kinda liked him but not the same way as Vacillating Lawyer Guy. I said I’d contact Singaporean Dude after I got back from visiting my family for the holiday, and I texted him, but never heard back. Not surprised, and frankly, I’d kinda lost interest too but in Toronto men are women and women are men, so it was my job to reach out. And, just in case he really was sitting there with his mobile on the coffee table, silently imploring it to jiggle with an incoming text, tears rolling down his face because I hadn’t reached out, hand on the mostly-empty vodka bottle because he thought I’d forgotten him, just in case he really was The Man Of My Dreams and I just didn’t know it yet, I texted him, and never heard back.
Okay whatever! Onto something new...
With less than a week left on the month I paid for with ClassyAss, which I have to admit did offer mostly better men than I found on Spinal Tap, I decided I’d cancel on the last day and try a new service that supposedly catered to older singles. I can’t even remember the name of it, I’ll have to Google when I’m ready, so let’s call it Old Farts!
It may be a few weeks before I start this new endeavour as I will visit The Fam again soon to help my brother clean out my mother’s apartment, as she’s now going into Assisted Living in a new, smaller place in a different facility. Best to wait until that is over.
Assuming I don’t meet the Old Farts Man O’ My Dreams in one month’s time <smirk>, I will reconsider ClassyAss, or maybe try my brother’s suggestion, eHarmony, although someone else warned me it tended to be a little on the conservative side, so I’ll research it first.
My purpose is to spread my efforts and get a feel for what may work and what may not, and where.
In the meantime, I listened to an interesting podcast from The Art of Charm blog in which a dating expert talked about the Top 5 Mistakes Women Make When Trying To Attract A Man. Yes really! It’s not actually as sexist and retro as it sounds, and in my honest opinion her advice applies every bit as equally to men as well as women. She also offered in a separate podcast Flirting For Women which I listened to because, believe it or not, I was actually a notorious flirt Back In The Day when I was younger, before I moved to a country where the only thing more frigid than the weather is the men.
Swear to Goddess, I wasn’t always a virgin!
(And yes, that guy is Al Franken-ing me!)
I can’t actually flirt anymore because most of the time it results in a Polar Vortex when I do. Toronto’s cold summer last year wasn’t actually the result of the northern jet stream settling over southern Ontario, but because in May I leaned over while wearing something revealing and said, “Hi Gorgeous!” with a wink and a wiggle.
I was ordered back into my apartment and to stay there until the sun goes nova by federal fiat.
It may take an American invasion launched from Mar-A-Lago over chocolate cake to liberate my rusty flirty ass.
Pray for me. :)
Handcuffs photo by Drew Stephens on Flickr
Nicole Chardenet is a former belly dancing tart and now an aspiring Terror of Toronto as she re-learns the fine art of flirting. She prays to God, Goddess and Darwin that she doesn’t get #MeToo’d on Twitter and called the Female Harvey Weinstein (which wouldn’t be at all fair as she’s never owned a Hollywood studio and couldn’t possibly have sexually harassed any underlings). She plots how to strike terror into the hearts of Canadian men from her Den O’ Iniquity In The Sky