Internet dating, some squirm at the very thought while others may see it offering a little help in negotiating the piranha filled dating pond. After my own interesting experiences, I'd rather skirt around the banks and avoid the teeth, or worse not have a panic attack upon the realisation that razor sharps aren't even interested in my flesh.
But this isn't about me, it's more about the razor toothed fishies.
Whilst this particular fish put off the razors with too much honesty... many razors don't seem to be so fussed with this trait, in fact it's probably viewed as a hindrance. This fish, put a pic up in real time (give or take a few months). Mr A had posted a photo which I should've worked out by the hairstyle was from the eighties and this cyber-fifty-ish was pushing towards his seventies in realtime. Even at my most desperate, I couldn't date somebody Dad's age. Mr A, who had once sported a beautiful, full head of hair was now somewhat more follicularly challenged. Why oh why, would Mr A think that I might not notice the ever so slight timewarp? (Even with my failing eyesight!?!) It's not the lack of hair I lament, but the lack of honesty.
Another little cherub greeted me at a table in the ubiquitous cafe. You know the scene, poor sap hiding behind a menu, eyes darting and hoping the person with the 'mad eyes' isn't the same less mad-eyed person on the receiving end of your little e-missives.
Said ME approached the table with his hand outstretched. As we shook hands, he squeezed his eyes as if testing his bladder, noting, 'I should be able to wait for a few minutes'. (How long before I can abandon Ship Nohope?) The ship was badly hulled in the first few nanoseconds and was sinking fast. When he requested Chamomile tea and took out 'two vitamin' pills (assumed they weren't Viagra!) I tied my laces tightly and scarpered as quickly as my middle-aged pins would allow me, in the politist possible way, of course.
Another interesting thing I noticed was the assumption that as an older fish, you'd be up for anything, which is all very well but dodgy hips and being a little less agile than in youth, would preclude some of the acrobatics suggested in the second missive from one particular razor. I'm not shocked, simply surprised that some razors might think that the social norms and pleasantries have no use in the cyber dating world. I wonder if these razors ever actually get to sink their teeth into any flesh. Or perhaps they work on the 'probabality factor' where if they chuck out enough hooks, something's bound to be hooked.
Other interesting tidbits I've picked up from friends who have dipped their toes in this rather despairing pond, are great to regale with girlfriends over a glass of wine or three. One chuckled that a would be dater with an out-of-date pic suggested they put their coffee date off due to his stomach stapling surgery. His photo, showed a man in the peak of fitness but the Georgie Pie in the background should've been both a hint and a portent of what was to come.
In Auckland there is the dreaded man drought but I think there's possibly more of an honesty and good mannered drought from my own, often peculiar, experiences.
But alas, let us not end on a note of bitterness as it does nothing for my wrinkles!
I have two very dear friends who met and subsequently married in the very pond I've been so disparaging about. I'm not sure how they did it, but they found each other and, well, isn't that just lovely! There is hope!
Don't despair, patience might prove to be the greatest virtue in this new and sometimes scary world of dating.
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