Online magazine Better After Fifty has featured one of my posts! It’s here: https://betterafter50.com/2015/09/what-i-learned-from-overdoing-online-dating-after-my-husband-died (Ok, for the three people who’ve been reading this for a bit, this is what’s known as a repurposed post.)
I have been contemplating a return to online dating (when I’ve had too much Merlot). So, here’s what I came up with for:
My Post Dating Profile
If you aren’t available to meet in person within the near future, do not contact me. I did not join a dating site so that men can tell me they don’t have time to meet me. I am already lonely, now I get to hear about how monumentally busy you are.
If you set up meet up times you don’t follow through with, do not contact me. Don’t treat me worse than you’d treat your dentist, nail technician or screen door repair guy. That we may choose to get physical should make you more responsible, not less so.
Accountability. It’s what’s missing in online dating.
If you enjoy sending unsolicited nude selfies (front or rear), engaging in dirty Skyping, or other non in-person sex stuff, do not contact me. If you joined this site to try Tantric sex or bondage, I don’t need to know that. I’m Jewish.
If you need to process your latest breakup, do not contact me. If you need to discuss the women who have broken your heart, blog. Better yet, pay someone to listen to you. Then you may finally stop talking about them.
If you need to be nurtured along in your life, do not contact me. I am a cancer widow. I nurtured. He died. At this point, I’m afraid to get a house plant.
If you need to give a woman you barely know lots of unrequested advice, do not contact me. I am a widow, not a moron.
If you are still angry at your mother, or at women in general, do not contact me. I have been through enough. I don’t deserve you.
If you need to get wasted to talk to me, do not contact me. I don’t want to put you out that much.
If you enjoy giving your dates constructive criticism, do not contact me. I am perfect. Worse, you are not. I’m just too polite to tell you.
Unless people have told you that your empathy quotient is devastatingly high, do not contact me. I have spent far too many meet ups listening to my date’s monologues. See possible romance above. Don’t you want to know something about me? “Shut up and listen” is not sexy.
If you are not John Turturro or David Duchovny, do not contact me. Oh wait, I’m a writer. I blog about my experiments in boyfriendism. If you are a major jerk, please contact me. If you are enough of a dickwad, I may be able to get a piece into The New York Times.
Ok, any other criteria you can think of adding to this exercise in hostility?
