Hard (where) To Match

You know that saying “The definition of madness is continually going to the hardware store to buy bread and expecting different results each time.”? Well, that’s a pretty good analogy for my online dating experience, but try this one on for size:

“The definition of madness is continually going to an online dating site looking for a hammer amongst the many loaves of bread, and getting disappointed because I expected different results.”

Okay, maybe it needs a little tweaking.

I know, I know… I said I wouldn’t participate in online dating anymore, but… oops, I did it again. What can I say? I lost all sensibility, which is what happens when my squish-mitten does the talking and not my hard hat. It’s not just men who lose their brains to their genitals, apparently.

I’ve only done this inane activity a handful of times since, well, since the inception of the online dating nonsense, and those were only during short spurts of single-hood. I could only tolerate it for a few weeks, then I would give up and just try to catch a man the usual way: with promises of wild nights in bed and some really great dinners, the whole time really only intending on keeping one of those promises (I’ll let you guess which one).

Now, the bread has gone stale.

I’ve never had a problem getting guys in my entire life (easy to believe with my sparkling personality, I know) but now, I’m in the Sahara desert of the dating world, and I can only attribute it to my age, because everything else about me is totally bitchen. Well okay, there is that one section in the middle… but everything else rocks! Once I entered my fifties, that’s it I guess, I’m no longer desirable. Put me out to pasture, I’m a fucking old cow.

Hang on, I need to sneeze… ah moo!

Excuse me. Okay, where was I? Oh yes, ageism; men want younger women, even those old fuckers who are like, 80! Those are the ones who want me, by the way. To them, I’m a spring chicken.

Wait, gotta sneeze again… buk buk buk buk, bukaw!

Excuse me, wow… I must have allergies.

There’s something to be said about the old fashioned way of match-making, where the gentleman was introduced to the lady by relatives or friends. It made sense because these people knew each of the potential love birds, and there was good, solid structure and social expectations, so men behaved themselves. They had to have a certain reputation, good manners and a stable position in society. They would visit with the lady, chaperoned, of course, and during courtship, the two would take the time to get to know one another. They didn’t take too long though, people couldn’t mess around back then because life expectancy was much shorter, so you had to strike while the mitten was hot, so to speak.

*whispering* Just between you ‘n me… my mitten’s pretty hot.

I have lots of things going for me. I haven’t had any kids, so everything’s all tucked up inside nice and tight still. Maybe gravity has had a few visits elsewhere, but I’m no grandma. Plus, I know how to cook up a good, steamy loaf, if you know what I mean! 

Hmm, does that sound right? 

What I’m trying to say is, if the guy doesn’t have high expectations, he could have a pretty good time. You know what? This would be perfect information to put on my profile. I mean, if I’m gonna do this, I gotta go big or go home… up the ante… compete like a winner, am I right?!

*singing* “Old MacDonald Had a Farm, E-I-E-I-O, and on this farm he had a…. a… a…   cow… E-I-E-I-O”