Ventures Into Online Dating in My Fifties — Part 2

Or not as the case may be

After sifting through the photos of barechested, bald guys pretending to push weights and offering to be my dream mature guy, I settled on chatting with just two men. This is how those conversations started here.

Here’s How The Chat Moved On

Guy 1:

So Mike asks to meet for a coffee.

I say, why not, let’s do it.

He asks where.

I’m like this guy is lazy, he wants me to do the leg work.

But I suggest a mid-way meeting point anyway.

Gave him the details.

Ask what time he’d like to meet.

And he goes quiet. Like nothing back at all. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Guess he didn’t like coffee after all.

And just like that, the chat of our shared widowhood and being grandparents is over.

I really thought there was something there.

Just goes to show, you never know.

Guy 2

Then Dean suggests we meet for a coffee.

We live a bit further away from each other, so we have to plan this a bit more.

He does the leg work and suggests a mid-way meeting point.

He finds a coffee shop to meet at.

He checks if this suits me.

I’m like this guy sounds okay. Was I being a bit too judgy? Remember I had a few worries about this guy at the start of the conversation.

I liked his initiative and that he was doing the leg work.

So we met for a coffee.

I arrived on time which is a feat for me as a Tidsoptimist.

But I also hate running in late and not having my head together in new situations like this, so I made a point to tell my brain an earlier time so I could be on time.

I decided to wait in the car. Each car that pulled up, filled up my anxiety pot. This felt weird. Meeting a stranger. I had seen his profile photos, but we all know what that can mean.

This leads me to …

Story From My Twenties

When we were in our twenties, my girlies and I decided to try personal ads for dating and a bit of fun.

We had been clubbing and pubbing. Frankly, we had not been meeting the right type of fellas. We weren’t on the same page as them, they were looking for one-night situations, and we were wanting something more meaningful.

Back then — and I am talking 1990s — there were no online sites, it was pre-internet. It was ads in newspapers and a dating magazine which came out weekly. We would purchase this as it hit the shelves, pondering over the ads. You had a call box number and could leave a message for the person. Remember there was no abundance of mobile phones back then either. You would have to go and check your voicemail box to see if they responded.

My friend got a response, and she arranged a date. We always protected each other. We would all go together but would seat ourselves at a nearby table to give our friend protection if needed.

She was seated at a closeby table waiting for him. With her guards watching carefully over her.

When no word of a lie, this rather short (she was very tall), bulbous man (she specified her type as slim-to-medium build) rolled in and came over to her, who looked nothing like the profile picture. Clearly 30 years or more her senior (she specified her age range as 25–30).

Why do older men seem to think they would be attractive to younger ladies?

She looked at us and her eyes screamed.

Rescue me now!!

Which we did and left the pub together, hooting with laughter.

So you can understand my anxiety upon waiting.

Dean arrives a few minutes late.

I watch him go charging up to the entrance. I hang back a bit.

I don’t want to look too keen like I have been waiting. Of course, I have been.

Then I saunter over, and we say hi like it is not awkward meeting someone you don’t know.

He then says I think I have parked in the wrong place, I better go and move my car.

Oh dear, is this his get-out clause?

Do I wait? Will he return? Do I look that awful?

Maybe his friends are around the corner to rescue him.

False alarm. He returns a few minutes later after having re-parked his vehicle in the correct spot.

We find a table and get seated.

I can’t say there was any instant attraction.

He was shorter than me, but that’s fine.

He has blue eyes. And blonde hair. What’s left of it?

My type is dark hair and dark eyes, so I should have been more specific. But when you get to fifty maybe you can’t be so choosy, so I had let this one slip. And who knows, would I be passing up someone based on looks? I’m not that shallow, or am I?

So we chat. The chat flows.

We make easy enough conversation.

The conversation somehow gets onto lockdown and he talks of this lonely period, as he went through this on his own, which is why he is really keen to find someone and be in a relationship. Quickly.

He tells me that he got Covid during that period, and thinks he has long Covid. Not exactly selling himself here.

Throughout the coffee, he blew his nose.

I mean like a lot.

Like he had a sinus problem.

Or long Covid problem.

Or maybe my perfume was bothering him.

I have no idea.

But frankly, I found it so irritating.

But I tried to put it past me.

Apart from that, it had been a pleasant afternoon.

I had a conversation. And a laugh.

And it was good to be in the company of a male again.

But the sniffing. And nose blowing. Could I get past that?

As we left the coffee shop, we were on the seafront but it was a blustery cold day. The temperature that day was probably no more than 5ºC and the wind was blowing.

I love walking and suggested a short walk along the front.

As we walked, I turned and saw his nose, dripping.

Dripping like a tap dripping.

Globules dripping.

He must have run out of tissues cos he wasn’t wiping it away either. I tried not to look, the alternative of facing the wind blowing in my face seemed a better prospect.

I suggested we turn back.

We said our goodbyes.

When I got home, he had messaged to say that he liked me and wanted to meet again.

I on the other hand could only see bodily fluids oozing out of him.

So I said I enjoyed the afternoon but felt that we were on different pages with what we were looking for right now.

This was true, as he wanted a committed relationship which became clear during the coffee, and I wanted company more than commitment. I was in no rush.

His response “Why are you on a dating site, good luck finding what you’re looking for.”

He ended by adding,

“You will realise that there are many insincere people on the dating site who don’t have the same value system as I do. I wish you good luck because believe me, you will find out, you’re going to need it.”

And that is the end of Dean.

Dating in your fifties is not pretty.

I took the plunge by putting up my profile online. What it has made me realise is that I am actually not ready for dating in terms of looking for a committed relationship.

I’m not looking for passionate romance.

Not even looking for a soulmate. I had those things.

I am looking for someone for the company to go to dinner, theatre and walks in nature.

But most of all I am looking for a non-dripping nose.

I’ve put my profile on pause for the moment.

I can so relate to Joan Gershman's tales of her online dating as a mature lady, she has a way of telling a funny tale.

Tagging those who commented on Part 1 Natalie Susan Wheelock, Autistic Widower ("AJ"), Scot Butwell, Ruby Lee, Pamela Oglesby, Terry L. Cooper, Cristina Cattai, Cat Strav, Psych Kush, Bruce Murray, kasey sparks, Lotus Empress. And to the February love challengers Keeley Schroder, Adrienne Beaumont, Karen Schwartz, NancyO, Brett Jenae Tomlin

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