Online Dating-Week 8

This eighth week brought eight matches. (I believe a pattern might be developing.) One half of the men (or four, if you are good at math) had profiles that included no photo. The good news is there were two available gents with nicely written profiles AND pictures attached. I wrote to the one whose biography was spiritual in nature, and included a reference to a series of books that I read years ago, which still sit on my shelf today. I received no response to my email. (This is where the bad news begins.) Sports was the dominant theme AGAIN in many of the profiles, especially under the section, “The One Thing I Am Most Passionate About.” Here is the list, in its correct order, from one sports freak nut: Sports, baseball, football, and family. I would like to suggest a revision here. First, I think it would appear more appropriate to list “family” first. Secondly, I think that the word “sports” includes games like baseball and football, so no need to list all three. He also listed “watching sports” ahead of “spending time with friends and family” under the section, “How I Spend My Leisure Time.” You don’t have to hit me over the head with your handy, dandy baseball bat. You love SPORTS more than you love your PEOPLE. Another guy did almost the exact same thing. Under his “Passions,” he listed, in this order: Golf, college basketball/football and lastly his daughter. Under “leisure time,” his list was similar, but with one addition: Golf, dinner with my daughter, playing poker, playing golf. If you still have your math brain handy, he mentioned golf three times. I get it Tiger. YOU LIKE GOLF! The third and final jock wannabee listed “sports” as his one and only “passion.” In fact, his entire profile contained only eleven words. (He was also one of the “mystery, no photo” men.) Obviously, he was too busy watching sports to take the time to create a well-written, descriptive bio of himself that included a snapshot or two.

With March Madness on the horizon, spring training in full swing, and the NBA hooping it up nearly every night and weekend, there appears to be little hope for us lonely, single women. It would seem that many of the available men in my age range are glued to their TV set, or have their season tickets in hand, ready for the beginning of the six-month baseball season. This just weeks after relegating their favorite football jersey to the back of the closet. Instead of surrendering to my feelings of defeat and gloom, I would just like to give a big shout out to all of the single, fifty-something males who DON’T live, eat and breathe sports. Can you please show up in my universe? I’m a pretty good gal just looking for a decent guy with some depth and a zest for life. Consider yourself officially summoned.

Inside the Boy Brain

I am a female raising a male human. Alone. With no help. I have only a sister, no brothers.  I did have a father who was very present in my life, but I did not meet him until 1960. He was 38 years old.  I have been married to a man, and dated a few others before him, but once again, they were adults. The point I am attempting to make is that I have no real life experience with a young boy. What makes them tick? What goes on inside their mind? Is there actually a “mind” located within their skull? Case in point. Last Spring, after the snow had melted, I was piddling out in the front yard, collecting various forms of debris that had landed on the lawn-leaves, sticks, pickles. Pickles you say? I did not initially realize that I was picking up pickles. The first one or two I came upon, near the front door, were green, shriveled, rubbery mystery items that I believed might have been deposited in the yard by birds. Then I came upon another, and another, and another, until I realized that they were pickles-little miniature gherkins-often used for snacking. Was someone in the neighborhood feeding the birds pickles? Had they run out of seed and peanut butter, or were they just trying to finish off the jar and thought, hey, I think I’ll put these in the feeder to get rid of them? (Birds will eat anything, like Mikey.) It did not dawn on me until later in the day, that most likely, my son (then 12 years old), had apparently gotten bored one winter’s day and decided that it would be fun to toss pickles out the front door like lawn darts. Really????

Fast forward to this winter, which has also included many housebound, relatively uneventful days for my son. He spends a lot of his free time on his XBox, but once in a while he tires of that, and will watch old reruns of I Dream of Jeanie and the Beverly Hillbillies. Apparently, one dull and dreary day he ran out of things to do, and decided to suck the coating off of several orange-flavored Tic Tacs and spit them around the house. (Yesterday, I found one behind a chair in the great room.  Weeks before, I had found a couple of others in more conspicuous places, but shrugged them off to something the dog had dragged in.) Once again, I was left scratching my head in wonder at the inner workings of the underdeveloped male brain. What could possibly make an individual decide to make a sport out of kosher dills and breath mints? What’s next? Waffles as frisbees, or Cheerios as ammunition? I may have to start locking up the frig and pantry when I leave. Apparently, a grocery toss has replaced a deck of cards and board games as indoor fun-at least at my house!

Online Dating-Week 7

Seven appears to be the lucky number this week.  This is my seventh week of online dating, and my service matched me with seven men. Now, in Las Vegas, “seven” may be a winning number, but there is no jackpot for me this week. The themes of previous weeks continued. There was one match with no photo, and he was also “neither religious nor spiritual.” There were three additional sports fanatics, with one even posting the one and only photo of himself at a ballgame with three of his buddies. (I would refer them to my blog posting dated February 6, 2011. Be very careful about boasting about your love of sports. For a large majority of women, this may be a HUGE turn-off!) One gent had no less than eight misspelled words in his very wordy profile. My favorite was under the section, “What is the First Thing People Notice About Me?” He answered, “That I am a grreat guy.” Get out your bowl and Frosted Flakes. I found Tony the Tiger, and he is my match! Grrrrrr…..Under the heading, “Occupation, ” there were a couple of new and interesting ones. There were two engineers-one was a chemical engineer (obviously a smart guy), and the other was a Nondestructive Testing Engineer. Huh? Obviously, there must also exist a “Destructive Testing Engineer.” His/her job sounds way more fun. They get to go to work, destroy things AND get paid for it! The list also included a semi truck driver and one guy who was honest and forthright about the fact that he is on disability. Again, I am not so sure that you should share that type of information in your profile. It is not a chick-magnet kind of occupation. Actually, it is not an occupation at all!

This post serves as my shortest to-date. There just wasn’t much to work with this week. Pretty much the same old, same old. I can continue to check my site daily, and then go on about my life. This is an opportunity to remind myself to just “be.”

Wishful Springing

A large portion of the U.S. has endured a rather long, harsh winter. My home state was included in this snowball effect (pun intended). December swept in with bone-chilling temps and snow, even granting us a Bing Crosby White Christmas. Next,as  the calendar flipped to 2011, January brought with it more precipitation and cold. Would February make it a three-peat? Apparently, the gods feel pity on our frozen souls and have granted us a reprieve. The thermometer is rising, and the gray mounds of weeks-old snow are beginning to disintegrate, much like the witch in the Wizard of Oz. (“I’m melting. I’m melting.”) In the past few weeks, the birds have begun to sing again, bringing music back to mornings. Even that groundhog from Pennsylvania failed to see his shadow. Apparently, he has had enough of winter as well.

I, too, feel a need to entice Spring into making an early appearance. Today, on this 15th day of February, I hung my “Spring” sign, complete with flowers and bunnies, on our front door. Technically, the Vernal Equinox is 33 days away, but I say now is the time to begin the thaw.  I’d hate for the groundhog to be labeled a liar.

Online Dating-Week 6

Week six proved to be a quiet week with only six matches. ( I received no matches on Thursday.) The supply of available men appears to be dwindling. Shame on me for not finding “the one” in those first weeks when I was deluged daily with all of those great catches! (If you have been following along since January, you know that the term “great catch” did not apply to the vast majority of the first 200 men sent my way.)  Here is a brief synopsis of the other men deserving an Honorable Mention:

The first match of the week was a 51-year old man who had seven grandchildren. Seven grandchildren at 51???? (At age 50 1/2, I have one child who is in seventh grade.) Obviously, reproducing oneself begins early in that family. Grandpa, who is somewhat overweight, had an interesting photo of himself taken in Mexico. He is wearing a ball cap and a t-shirt with a skull imprinted on it, and he is coming out of the top of a birthday cake that says, “Eat Me” on the front. Not your typical sittin-in-the-rocking-chair kind of granddad. I’ll bet the grandkids really do “eat him up!”

My second match of the week had a well written profile, which included a nice quote under the section,”The Most Influential Person in my Life.” He listed his son, and said, “I am supposed to keep him grounded, but lately, he is the one keeping me grounded.”  Sweet! I really dig a guy that can write, but this one was not a match in an aesthetic sense. Darn!

My last match of the week is the winner in two categories. Under “Five Things I Can’t Live Without,” last on his list was “physical stimulation.” I am no Einstein, but even I know that this is merely a more clinical way of saying, “sex.” (He could also have said, “intercourse”-also very “clinical.”)  Nice try, Mr. Viagra! His primary profile photo is also the winner in the Kodak category. He is dressed in a business suit holding a leather portfolio tucked under his left arm while his right hand holds a pen that he is pointing towards the camera. His facial expression is more of a smirk than a smile. He looks like an ambulance-chasing attorney or cheesy used car salesman, or given his Jewish religious status, he could be another Bernie Madoff ready to offer you his latest Ponzi Scheme. He went into the “double delete” file.

That’s all she wrote, or to say it another way, I am out of material. With only six matches, there just isn’t much to work with, but, as you can see, there always is SOMETHING! Happy Valentine’s Day. Maybe next year, a dozen roses will arrive at my door- a gift from my match! A girl can always dream………

Online Dating-Week 5: A Kinder, Gentler Week

As the title of this post suggests, I was finally granted a week where the weird and the wacky seem to have been weeded out. This first week of February was a breath of fresh air, even if that air was cold and snowy. (This is a reference to our chilly winter, where there is never-ending precipitation falling from the sky. Excuse me-I digress.) While the number of pickins was slim (just 10 matches), the vast majority of the profiles were pleasant to read, written by seemingly nice men. This week’s photo scroll was also notably easier on the eyes. The batch did, however, include three with no photos-about the same percentage as last week. Under “religion,” there again were a few non-believers (neither religious or spiritual), but did include the first Muslim. A few reader/friends have strongly gently suggested that I give a guy (or two) a chance, so I did initiate contact, via email, with one particular 51-year old. To-date, I have not received a response. This is the second time I have reached out with zero results. Surprisingly, this “rejection” does not appear to threaten my self-esteem because, quite frankly, they don’t really even KNOW me. They see a couple of photos, read a brief synopsis, but what they are lacking is physical presence. You can’t really KNOW someone without experiencing their energy, also known as “vibe” or “aura.”

Here is some commentary on the profiles of this week’s matches. I think you will find them “kinder and gentler” as well:

There was one fellow who listed “trust” as the number one thing he is looking for. This response suggests to me that quite possibly, this once loving, devoted husband was cheated on. To him I would say, ” I am truly sorry. Once you heal from your loss and betrayal, I guarantee that you will see that your ex did you a favor. Your next wife, who is waiting in the wings for you, will be a MUCH better person and spouse.”

Next, I would like to  address a comment that was posted on one gent’s profile. He wants you to know (get ready for a direct quote here), “I would put your happiness ahead of mine, and would appreciate the same consideration in return.”  I would like to take a moment to discuss the premise that anyONE or anyTHING can make you happy. I believe that true happiness can only come from within. It can’t be bought in a store, drunk from a bottle, or ingested in the form of food or pills. While another person can contribute to your joyous nature, they cannot give it to you, nor offer it up in place of their own. Anyway, men of this certain age should know by now that there is only one thing (outside of herself) that can make a woman happy and that, my friend, is chocolate-not technically a food!

On another note, after painstakingly (and often painfully) leafing through close to 200 profiles, I have noticed that several men list “watching sports” (including baseball, football and basketball) as either a passion, or something they do in their leisure time. Dear Abby would like to make one teeny, tiny suggestion. Save this VERY important data about yourself until AFTER you have “hooked her,” or possibly even “reeled her in.” Unless she is a sports fanatic herself (about 1 in two billion females, studies have suggested) OR, she doesn’t mind having her guy sprawled on the sofa weekend after weekend (this is approximately 1 in three billion women), this information just may prevent YOU from getting “hooked” and possibly “reeled in.”

In an effort to end the week on a high note, I would like to share my positive outlook on the whole online dating process and my careful recording of material contained within this  blog. My year-long endeavor is sure to prove a “win-win” for me. At the end of this journey, I will have either met my soul mate OR will have enough material to write my memoir titled, My Year of Meets. (This is a play-on-words of the title of a book I read several years ago, My Year of Meats, a rather good read by the way.) If I end up with a book deal instead of a living, breathing male, I will use my proceeds to purchase my man on the Internet. I will not use the mail-order route frequently chosen by many American men (usually Russia), but will instead select my groom from Italy. Vito, who is eagerly seeking a green card, shall willingly surrender his Italian citizenship to spend happily-ever-after with me.  See, I told you this is a win-win!

Thirteen

Today, my one and only offspring, my “baby” turns thirteen. The “teen” after “thir” merely serves to reinforce that the snappy tongue and sassy attitude do indeed belong to my now official teenage son. A family member reminded me earlier this week that had my son’s father lived, he would have been raised Jewish, and this weekend would most likely have been his Bar Mitzvah. For those of you unfamiliar with this Jewish rite of passage, thirteen year-old males now bear the responsibility, once held by their parents, for Jewish ritual law, tradition and ethics. They are called to the Torah for the religious/spiritual aspect of this event, and then afterward, there is a HUGE party that rivals a wedding, both in cost and extravagance. M.’s first and only indoctrination into the Jewish religion was his Bris, which was held when he was approximately one month old. (This initial rite of passage usually takes place on the infant’s eighth day of life, but M. was four weeks premature, so it was postponed.) The Bris is the ritual circumcision of the Jewish male, which is a ceremony of sorts ALSO followed by a party. (I did not actually witness M.’s circumcision, as I politely excused myself, stepped outdoors and cried. Once the “act” was complete, I came back inside and whisked my whimpering baby into the bedroom while the family indulged in all foods Jewish-bagels, cream cheese, lox and egg salad. (How one sits down and eats after witnessing the cutting of a baby’s penis is beyond me!)

M. obviously turned thirteen without declaring a religious affiliation, though he is a card-carrying member of the Religion of Joan, a denomination not recognized outside the walls of our home. While he won’t be celebrating his own Bar Mitzvah, he did recently receive the Bar Mitzvah ring that once belonged to his paternal grandfather, who passed away in August 2010. (M. was the recipient of this coveted heirloom not so much because of his Jewish heritage, but primarily due to the fact that he is the only male grandchild.) Today, we honor and reflect on what might have been, and celebrate this important milestone in any child’s life-male or female, Jewish or not. Happy Birthday to my son, and may God help me get through the next few years!