One of my favorites: I was out with a few friends for “Wing and Martini” night. It was getting late and everyone was leaving. As I was walking out I heard someone say “excuse me, ma’am?” I turned and saw a boy (yes, a boy) sitting at the bar. He then asked if he could buy me a drink. Buy me a drink? Is he old enough to buy a drink- he looks 12. Maybe he has a fake ID? I wonder if he is a friend of my daughter, or maybe I know his parents. So, I asked him if I knew him. Nope, he just wanted to enjoy my company and buy me a drink. Sweet, in a puppy dog kind of way. I held back the urge to laugh, thanked him politely and went on my way. If you are going to call me Ma’am, then I am too old for you.
Another good one: My friends and I tend to frequent the same places, and over time have gotten to know the same people. The day before Valentine’s Day a 26-year-old boy asked me to be his valentine and go out for dinner. I honestly thought he was joking. I made a lame joke about it. He pouted and hasn’t really spoken to me since…
The enlightenment: I was sitting at a bar and an older guy bought me a drink. I laughed at the bartender and said “Yup, this is what I get. They are either in their 70’s or 20’s. I don’t understand.” The bartender decided to explain why younger guys like the “older” women. I always figured the young guys thought women in their 40’s are in their prime sexually, and that’s what they were looking for. The bartender assured me this was not the case at all. He pointed to the cute little hostess and said, “See that girl? She’s been blowing up my phone all day”. Apparently that means sending too many text messages. “I can take an older woman out to dinner and have intelligent conversation. An older woman understands I’m in school and working. There isn’t all the drama that 20 something girls bring.” He explained.
Hmmm, makes sense. He works. He’s in school? So I had to ask him how old he was. Yup, twenty-three. Oh my god, my daughter will be 22 this year. I finished my drink and left. But, it made me think. Not that I would ever be with a boy in his 20’s thats kind of like being a pedophile. I’m not Mrs. Robinson. And by Mrs. Robinson, I mean the one from the movie with Dustin Hoffman- Not Fifty Shades.
I repeated the conversation with a male friend, thinking the kid had a point. My friend laughed and said the bartender wanted to get in my pants.
So does the fact that young guys hit on me make me a cougar? I decided to some research. I found a definition on-line.
Cougar : An attractive woman in her 30’s or 40’s who is on the hunt once again. An older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a much younger man. The cougar can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, to an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie or milf. Cougars are gaining in popularity — particularly the true hotties — as young men find not only a sexual high, but many times a chick with her shit together.
An early example of the cougar phenomenon was seen in the groundbreaking film The Graduate, in which middle-aged Mrs. Robinson (Ann Bancroft) seduces fresh-out-of-college Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman).
Real-life cougar relationships include Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher (15 years), Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins (12 years), and Barbara Hershey and Naveen Andrews (21 years).
Ok, I am not “overly surgically altered” or a “sad and bloated old horn-meister”. A “hottie or milf”… maybe. I can remember hearing the term Milf “Mother I’d Like (to) Fuck” during my daughter’s teen years. Just saying…
I am definitely neither prowling nor hunting. I am not stalking down my prey and ready to pounce on the first young victim I see. I am not attracted to someone who is my daughter’s age or my friends sons age… it’s just wrong.
So just because I’m in my 40’s, does not mean I am a Cougar…
After my awesome first date with Mr. Slick…I texted him the next day. “Thanks, I had a really nice time”. It took a few days, but Slick texted me back. I saw the text; I knew it was from him, I instantly had butterflies in my stomach. He had been very busy with work, but we set up a date for the following week.
The day of my date came. I prepped. I was extremely nervous! In fact I stopped at a friend’s house on the way to have a drink and say hello. We talked about how long it had been since I was on a decent date or anything else…. I was excited… who knew what may happen…I really kind of liked this guy. Then I went on my way, with the promise to text my friend and let her know how it went.
When I got to the restaurant, Slick was at the bar. I smiled. He said “you’re late”.
I frowned, “No, I’m punctual. In fact I am exactly on time. It is 7:30 on the button.” He checked his phone and low and behold I was right. Now I get the “hello, how are you”
Ok, whatever, I order my drink. We discuss the food and what’s good. He tells me what he thinks I would like. That’s nice… but I have been here before and order what I know I would like. I think I saw a little frown in his eyebrows… Odd. He checks his cell phone several times and answers a call even. I find that rude. My phone is off. Business. He needs to take a few calls. Ok.
He starts to tell me how stressful his job is. Between all the travelling and deals he is working on. He said he felt like the guy at the circus, balancing and spinning plates. “But you’re just a hairdresser, so you really don’t know stress do you?” he said.
Seriously, those may be fighting words. “Let’s see…. I was a wife, a mother, ran a household while simultaneously owning and operating two separate businesses. JUST a hairdresser? Two businesses inventory, accounting, payroll, invoices, dealing with staff at two separate places hiring/ firing… I could keep going. Umm yea I think I can comprehend stress even though I’m just a hairdresser”
He changed the subject. He started discussing college. He was in the top 2%of his class. Oops cell again. I have another drink while I wait for him to finish. Call done. … He graduated Magna Com Laude. And then, I think he actually smirked and asked “did you do the college thing?” Really, REALLY? Is he being condescending toward me? I am a business owner, I am well-known for my involvement in the community, and I volunteer. What I did for education 20 years ago doesn’t define me as a person. I am jerked. I get quiet. I think he is a big douche bag! And at 46 if his claim to fame is college well that’s sad. I have far more accomplishments than that.
I guess I started to look annoyed. Again he changed the subject. I think he even tried to apologies. Rambling, about men sometimes sticking their feet in their mouth. Blah, Blah Blah. Over time I softened. The rest of the conversation went well. However the words were still in the back of my head.
It was time to go. He walked me to my car and gave me a kiss. It was nice. Then he asked me where I lived. I told him just 5 min. away. He asked if he was going to get to come by and see my house. I guess he didn’t learn in college if you are thinking of getting somewhere with a woman you shouldn’t insult her…
I smiled oh so sweetly, cocked my head and replied “see my house? Hmmm, not on a second date” And with that I got in my car and left.
Confused. How could someone have the perfect first date and then be a douche bag on the second. Maybe it is just stupid guy talk and he didn’t get how insulting he was. He was so nice before…
I text my friend: the eagle is going back to the nest alone….
Thank you Karmic Diva http://karmicdiva.wordpress.com/ for another nomination!
To everyone who reads my blogs,
Thank you for taking the time to read my posts and share your comments.
Please accept this Reader Appreciation Award There are no requirements or rules. Just post it on your blog, share it with your favorite bloggers and enjoy
http://looserornot.wordpress.com/, http://oracularspectacular.wordpress.com/, http://blessedwithastarontheforehead.wordpress.com/, http://cauldronsandcupcakes.com/, http://everydayclimb.wordpress.com/
The rules are:
- Write 7 things about yourself.
- Nominate 7 creative bloggers for this award and let them know.
- Post the award on your blog and link back to the one who nominated you.
7 things about me
1. I am blonde this week.
2.while I am normally out going, I get shy in front of men I like
3. I LOVE shoes
4.I don’t bounce back from a hangover like I did 20 years ago
5. I clean my house on Sundays while dancing to very loud music
6. favorite rainy day activity…get in my jammies, hang on the couch and read a great book
7. I am blessed with wonderful family and friends!
I am nominating these bloggers for the Kreativ Blogger Award:
Age, is it just a number? I don’t think so. I’m in my forties. Forty-one to be exact. When I think of the correct age demographic for me I feel it should be around 40-55 give a few years in either direction.
So what the hell are men thinking? I’m just saying. I go out, and the men hitting on me are either in their 70’s or 20’s. That’s a big stretch. So I should be a trophy or a cougar?
I do love my old men. Just not in that way. I see them out. We chat it up. They buy me drinks. Just so you know, every so often I buy them one back. They say I shouldn’t. But, hell it’s just good business. I get 10-1 on my investment. The other girls just accept the drinks and move on because these guys are old. I enjoy their conversation, that’s all. I buy them a drink to show I’m a friend and that’s it. Not sure that point is getting across though. One of my older friends told me his other friend was interested in me and he was putting out “feelers” to see if I felt the same.
Umm huh? You mean the guy with white hair who winters in Florida and is retired and I have heard him speak of a girlfriend? Sooo my friend says, “OOH the girl friend, yea he’s done with her spending all his money” Ok we just dropped the hint that he has a lot of money. Well, I don’t hang out in shabby places… “how old is he?”, I asked. My friend says 71. SEVENTY ONE???? Come on? Really? My Dad is 78. That’s just wrong. So very sweetly I respond “he seems like a very nice man…but I just think that’s a stretch…”
When prompted I explained, 20 years from now I’ll be 61 and if he’s not dead he’ll be 91, I would either be taking care of him or starting over…
The response: “thats what the problem is with women, they are always thinking of the future. Live for today!”
HA!!! Had I thought like this 20 years ago, I wouldn’t be where I am today! I feel my best years were wasted. I’m 41. Yes, I am working really hard to keep my stuff looking young. But, I have a window. I won’t look like this forever. This shit is going to fall at some point. I don’t want to be doing this again in 20 years. At my age I can’t afford to waste time. And not for nothing…I’m not a gold digger. I can’t just have a guy buying me stuff. I work hard for all I have. I feel that it is just using someone to go out with them for a little while to get what you can out of them. It would be bad karma… It’s wrong. An,d when I was much younger I worked in a nursing home. Just saying…I know what that shit looks like and there isn’t enough money in the world for that! ICK!!!
Old is sometimes too old. I have found the 40/50-year-old men are looking for women in their 20/30’s. Do they realise these women want families and children? So that leaves me the 60/70 year olds? I think not.
I would rather stay home alone and read “Fifty Shades Of Grey”.
First date with Mr. Slick. Time to shop. Red is supposed to be a power color. Studies have been done that men are attracted to red. I like red. I look good in red. I buy a red dress. Off the shoulder, clingy in the right spots (but not slutty),black stockings and hot black boots. A power outfit.
I meet him at the restaurant. As usual I show up 15 min early so I can get a drink and chill. Again, my date’s there before me. Fail, I’m going to have to start leaving my house earlier. Sigh, here goes. I walk up to him do the “hug, kiss, say hello”. He asks if I want a drink. I’m quite nervous and would love me a martini as we wait for our table and make small talk.
We chat as we wait. By the time I finish my Cosmo, the hostess is ready to seat us. As we walk to the table I am realizing I didn’t eat lunch, I’m feeling my Cosmo, and I think Slick is staring at my ass as I walk. I try to walk sexy and not trip. I think it is a success.
Slick asks me if I like wine. Doesn’t everyone? He orders a $120 bottle of wine and starts talking about which vineyards are better than others. I find that to be a little pretentious. In my experience, people who talk to impress are usually full of shit. But, the wine comes and it’s yummy. He proceeds to tell me that he comes to this restaurant often and knows the menu by heart. He asks if I like salad. I laugh and tell him I may be 105 pounds but it’s not from eating salads, I like real food. He asks if I like sea food. I do. The waitress comes over and he orders for the both of us. Hmm I never had anyone order for me before. He’s a take charge kind of guy. I think I like that. It’s a nice change; I used to have to tell my ex-husband what he would like on a menu and what to order….
The meal comes. I have lobster, shrimp and clams in a pink vodka sauce over linguini. He’s pulling out all the stops. It’s delicious. The conversation flows as freely as the wine. We talk about our kids, touch briefly on divorce. Talk about our jobs. And then he asks what my goals are in life.
Huh? My goals? Do I have goals? I may like another glass of wine, but I don’t think that’s where he’s going. What the hell? So I smile politely and ask what he means. He replies, “you spent the first quarter of your life doing what your parents wanted you to do, and then you spent the next quarter doing everything for your child and husband. Now that your daughter is grown and you’re divorced this is the time for you. So what do you want?”
Wow, I think that is profound! This is my time! I am woman hear me roar! Ok, maybe I won’t have another glass of wine. He makes so much sense! Although I still don’t know the answer. So again I smile, thank god for a good smile, and tell him I haven’t given it much thought…. He looked deep into my eyes and said, “I have long-term goals and short-term goals. I do know in the very near future I want to kiss you”
My stomach got butterflies. I think I may have giggled in my head. How sweet. I don’t know what his long-term goals were because I wasn’t listening to another word he said. I was thinking of him kissing me. Cute. It was a perfect first date! He walked me to my car. And I got a hug and a kiss.
When I went home I told my 21-year-old daughter about my perfect date. Her response was, “Oh, Mom- he’s a player. Watch out!” “What? No! He even gave me a cute little nickname! When he gave me a hug, he spun me around and said I really am little- I’m a spinner.” I told her.
My daughter looked at me as if I were an idiot. Exasperated she exclaimed “don’t you know what a spinner is?” Uhh no, but the way my kid is talking to me it can’t be good. “Mom, it’s a girl a guy can put on his lap and spin!”
Oh, yea not so good…. But never mind that, the rest of the date was awesome, and I’m going to have a second date….
I was sitting at a restaurant bar with two of my friends. I had a crush on a guy I had met a few weeks prior. He was there. I was scoping him out. I asked my friends what they thought of him. One of my friends answered “Never mind him, check out the guy in the striped shirt that just walked in.” Ok, cute… but still checking out my crush. And wouldn’t you know the guy in the striped shirt sat next to Crush Guy.
My friends and I were laughing and talking, I occasionally glanced at Crush Guy. After about an hour the guy in the striped shirt was suddenly standing in front of me. He looked me in the eyes and called me by my name. My first and last name. Umm, Oh shit, I thought, do I know him? Was I drunk and don’t remember? Should I be embarrassed?
Tentatively, I asked “Do I know you?” He said “No, but I know about you. I’ve done my homework and asked around.” Hmmm, I looked him up and down, yea he’s good looking. But what did he hear about me? Who did he ask? What does he know? Ugghhhh was I drunk, those damn martinis!
So as cute as I could, I cocked my head and said, “I’m sure you have only heard good things…” “How could it be anything but good? “, he asked. The playful banter continued for a little bit. Then he said “There’s one thing I do know …” I answered, “Really what’s that?” He replied, “I want to take you to dinner.”
Oh, I was totally caught off guard. We were only talking for about 20 minutes. The way he sauntered over. Knew things about me, his smile, his confidence…He was slick. I was definitely intrigued… I agreed. I gave him my number. And that’s how I met Mr. Slick.
So I wondered would he call? When would he call? Will he follow that “3 day wait before calling rule”? Oh I hate the wondering and waiting part. In fact if any men are reading this…”wait three day” thing is bullshit. We meet you, and we are excited the next day thinking about you. Day two it kind of fades…Day three we are not caring so much. No need to go out the next day… but the call or text is nice, we don’t think you are desperate. Just saying….
So… by day five, I had figured it was just bullshit and he wasn’t calling. Then, he called. It was good timing. I was on my way home from my failed Muffin Man date. Anyone would have sounded fantastic. He wanted to take me to a very nice upscale restaurant. My dates may suck, but I do seem to be eating very well! So, we make plans, I’ll meet him.
My first date sweater hasn’t been working so well for me. I think this calls for a new outfit. Oooh I’m excited. I’m not sure which I’m more excited about… shopping or Slick.
I guess we’ll see….
I decide to go out with the Muffin Man (who I met on JDate) for a second date. No, I am not a Masochist. I just wonder if it’s me. Am I too picky? Why am I a “one date wonder”? He e-mailed me. He’s interested, how bad can it be? Maybe he was just nervous on the first date… We arrange to meet at a nice restaurant in the city. At least I’ll have a nice meal…
The bar is full. Not one seat open. Fail. Oh, there’s the Muffin Man. Mr. Muffin has a seat at the bar. I walk over and say hello. He asks if I would like something to drink. “Sure I’ll have a glass of Cabernet”, I say. He does not offer me his seat. Awkward. I steady my purse, on the crook of one arm, while trying to hold the napkin and wine he has clumsily shoved at me. I can’t even take off my coat during this balancing act. Finally the man next to my date offers me his seat. I smile sweetly as I decline. “I enjoy standing”, I say. Hindsight, the correct answer should have been” Thank you it’s so nice to see a REAL gentleman”. Mercifully the hostess came, our table was ready.
I can finally take off my coat. I’m wearing a cute grey dress and some fabulous black high heel boots. I notice a few men glance in our direction. Yes, I am making the Muffin Man look good. I think he is oblivious though. Oh well. We discuss the ride here, traffic and the weather. Freakin’ fascinating. He then asks, “Do you know why it’s strange there is a sports team called Utah Jazz? They were originally the New Orleans Jazz before their relocation.”
“That’s interesting, but I don’t really follow football.” I found out later that the “jazz” team is basketball. He then told me all about the “Cardinals” who moved from Chicago to St. Louis and, finally, to Phoenix. All while keeping their name. “Umm, I really don‘t follow football”, I said again with a smile. He must not have understood me because he continued to ramble about which sports teams have relocated; I think he listed seven or more. I couldn’t care less. My mind wanders. I feel he is socially awkward, I have now diagnosed him with Asperger’s disorder (an autism spectrum disorder that is characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction, alongside restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior and interests). It’s a big possibility. He is now rambling about retractable domes, and which stadiums have them. You lost me at “cardinals”…
My veal is excellent. I try to discuss food, the resturant… any common ground… What was it his other dates told him? That’s right… no chemistry! I’ve got your chemistry… mix orange flavor vodka and a splash of cranberry to endure this evening! Finally! Dinner is done, we have the check, and this painfully boring, lifeless, mundane date is over!
We walk outside. He asks me where I am parked. I used the valet. He tells me he is around the corner, he’ll call me….and then, he LEAVES. YES LEAVES! I don’t know where the valet guy is. It’s cold and dark and my date has left me alone on the city street AGAIN! Who does that! The audacity! I have never had someone be so rude. Is he just that ignorant? Even friends make sure everyone is in their cars and the cars are started!
You want to talk football? Here’s your football, I am throwing in a “penalty flag” for bad manners! There won’t be a rematch! My defense is unstoppable. There will be no scoring on this field! Too bad for the Muffin Man! My offence is pretty solid too. I’ve heard I have a nice tight end! Humph! He has been benched, taken out of the game! So run, run, run, just as fast as you can! You won’t catch me Mr. Muffin Man!
I was going to post about my second date with the Muffin Man. However, something else came up… It does have to do with being divorced…
I had a bad divorce…Ok raise your hand if you had a good one… But, I did get the house and all the crap and maintenance that goes with it. Lucky me. Yes, that is sarcasm you are reading. I have a pool. Lovely. I never wanted a pool. I grew up with one, that was fine. I didn’t want the expense or the upkeep that a pool requires as an adult. I lost. I have a pool.
Being married I may have lost the battle, but I won the war. I refused to do anything with it, I didn’t use it. Maybe twice a year I would go in. That was it. I would much rather go to the beach stand in the ocean and splash water on myself to catch a tan. I don’t like getting my hair wet. Go ahead make fun. I just don’t. I’m not prissy- I’ll fish, touch dirt and worms and garden. But I don’t want to swim.
I won the war. There are casualties in war. I am divorced. I own the pool. In the fall I had to “close”the pool. That ment going to the pool store with my pool book and asking for help. I had to vacuum, clean, half drain, get a blow up pillow and tie it in the middle of the pool, add chemicals remove the filter and some other plastic crap… Oh, and cover it. During the winter I had to regularly pump water off the cover so it wouldn’t collapse. Now it’s time to “open” the pool. Why? To not use it? To have to clean the leaves and other shit that floats in it once a week? I don’t have enough to do, I need another chore? If I don’t open it then I’ll have an area of stagnant water in my yard where mosquitos will breed and infect my entire town with “Triple E” (Eastern equine encephalitis virus)! I don’t even know what that is except I think horses and people die! Nope! I will sell the pool ! Craig’s list here I come! I list it. I wait. I list it again. OOOOH I get a response!
Wayne Scott wants my pool! Yay! He wants to buy it for his Uncle. How sweet. He can’t come and see it because he is out-of-town planning a wedding… Ok. Can I send a picture? Of course. “Hey, does your Uncle want a piano?”, I asked jokingly. Wayne asks how much? Really? Can I be that lucky? So I shoot him a price. He offers me $100 less than I’m asking for both. Wow and I was pricing both high anticipating the haggle. Almost to good to be true!
And e-mail 13 drops it. A problem. No? Really? Wayne NEEDS my help. Oh, the moving company NEEDS $960 up front. Yadda, Yadda. He’ll send it to my pay pal account. Suuuure you will. I tell him fine would LOVE help you out! What? You NEED me to go to Western Union for you? Oh you want me to front the money to you? Sure No problem….Oh ps: does your uncle need a bridge? I could sell you one. Or maybe an Island? Did you want to bend me over?
What is wrong with people? Who listens to this crap. Is it like online dating…Is Wayne playing the numbers? Sending out countless e-mails untill some poor soul bites? He wasted my time with 13 e-mails just to turn out to be something other than he said… Seriously selling a pool turned out to be like the bad date!
Honestly, I would prefer to be kissed before someone tries to screw me! Oh and does anyone want a pool??
My J Date membership may have paid off. I got an e-mail from a 43-year-old good-looking guy. Seemed intelligent, very well-travelled, extremely into health and fitness, good job… we did the back and forth e-mail thing. Of course he doesn’t live within a 25 mile radius of me, we have already established there are no eligible Jews in my area. He lives about an hour and a half away. I agree to meet him half way. He picks a very nice seafood restaurant. I’m impressed and a little excited.
Cute “red date sweater”, sexy shoes, hair, make up… I look good. Drive the 45 min. A little nervous. I always try to show up 15 min early so I can get my wine and relax a bit. Ugh, it was kind of hard to find the place, even with GPS. Parking was even tougher. But I made it! I walk into the restaurant and head to the bar.
Fail. He was there first. Oh and ummm I think he’s aged 10 years and thirty pounds since his last picture. What’s up with that? Not that I have anything against a receding hairline (I actually think bald is sexy) it just wasn’t receding in any of the pictures… And I’m not sure how he’s running those marathons or climbing mountains with that extra weight. There is no way he works out 5 times a week. He’s not fat. Just soft and mushy around the middle- in fact it’s kind of like a sloppy muffin top. Not a beer belly. A muffin top. I don’t think I’ve seen a muffin top on a man before, just teenage girls who wear their pants too tight. Odd, but I’m not dating just for looks. His profile was interesting. I was intrigued with his e-mails, he seemed cool. So he’s using and old picture- not a crime. We say hello and grab a table.
Small talk. Driving. Traffic. Work. Yawn. What I thought were cool one sentence answers through e-mail, now translates to boring and dull in person. In reality he had the personality of Matzoh. That dry Jewish holiday cracker that should have been left in Egypt when that shit didn’t rise, and now we are forced to eat it on Passover.
Conversation was getting strained… I was trying…. He told me he that was never married, came close once, but thought there might be better out there. Dumped her, has regretted it ever since and tries to measure everyone up to her. Really? Ok soo he’s a commitmentphobe who sets everyone up for failure. Fun. He did have two dates with a girl six years ago. Wow! Six years ago! Since then the rest of the girls have told him there was no chemistry. Really? No kidding!!! I wasted good hair and my “red date sweater” for this???? Well, the salmon was good. It’s late. I’m done.
We go to leave the restaurant. As we exit I turn to go to the right and he starts to go to the left. I laugh and tell him I’m parked over this way around the corner, in the alley next to the bar. He said “Oh, ok, goodbye”, gave me an awkward hug, and walked away… he didn’t even walk me to my car… All the Non-Jews have walked me to my car. I am insulted. The one Jewish guy- not walking me to my car? I told him it was in an alley. Really ? Humph! My mother would say not a mensch!
*Mensch (Yiddish: מענטש mentsh, from German: Mensch “human being”) means a person of integrity and honor.
Another fail? Come on? Am I destined to be a “One-Date-Wonder”? This dating could make me meshuggeneh!
Meshuggeneh – (Yiddish) a crazy fool
I was telling my parents about my Match.com dates. My mother asked me why I wasn’t “doing J Date”. I know J Date is for Jewish singles, but how does my mother know this? Of course… some of her Mahjong friends date. “You know, Jewish men make good providers”, she tells me- like she’s never said it before.
I’m Jewish. I consider myself “Jewish-Lite” kind of like Bud-Lite. One of my brothers says he’s a “Recovering Jew”. My mother insists we are “Culturally Jewish”. All translate to being Jews but not so much religious… My ex was Catholic. In fact I have never even dated anyone Jewish. Unless you count the 6th grade- we had ice cream or my “coffee date”. Not that I am against dating Jewish. The area in which I live is not heavily populated with Jews.
So, I decided to try J Date. But I’ve already paid for 6 months of Match.com. Now I have to pay for J Date? Not that I’m being cheap or anything… Look it’s on sale! HALF OFF!!! Such a deal! I have to join! I’m so proud! Why am I suddenly typing with a New York Jewish accent? I sound like Barbra Streisand in my head! OY VEY! It’s on sale… I buy… I date… If only I had a Shadchen — Matchmaker. This is the correct Yiddish term, not Yenta. A Yenta is just a talkative, gossipy woman.
I sign up. Not very creative, I copy and paste my Match profile. Being in my forties I’ll date 40-55. I don’t want to have children yadda, yadda, yadda… Put up the cute pics of me and enter…
Ok, in a 25 mile radius of my home there are 4 Jews. Yup 4! Oh and there’s my coffee date guy. So 3 Jews I haven’t had coffee with. And can I say they are ummm… let’s see… how do I say it…. Ummm not so attractive? Yea there ya go! Great! Shut off the computer and go to bed. #FAIL !
But low and behold the next morning I check my J Date. 64 people viewed me! E mail: 11, flirted with me: 7 (that is equivalent to the Match “wink”), favorite me: 4, put me on their hot list: 3. Wow I’ve got some action. Whoo whoo! How bad can this be? It has been less than 24 hours! Let’s check out what this Jewish princess is reeling in!
So I look. Oh. Um. Oh. Let’s see. A Doctor. This picture is not soo bad. Oh, that’s because it was taken when he went to Harvard… around 40 years ago! Hello??? Did you read my profile? I am not looking for someone in their 70’s… oh and look most recent photo… yes he looks like Gene Shalit. There’s a match- not.
Well we know there is no one in a 25 mile radius of where I live. But could we stay in New England (that’s where I live)? Wow I have Tel Aviv, NY, CA, Canada! Really? My profile says 25 miles from my zip code. Do they not know Geography? Maybe they don’t need to- they make good providers! How about age? Never mind the 60 and 70 year olds. I have a 28-year-old from Brooklyn, NY, a 27-year-old from Poland (now that’s a long distance relationship- what am I supposed to read him bed time stories over the phone?), and a 32-year-old from N Hollywood, CA. I have to say no when they are closer to my daughter’s age then mine. Not a cougar. My favorite?? The guy from Flushing, NY. He looks like a Rabbi, beard and all. I quickly copy and paste his pic and Gene’s pic to an email and send it to my mother with the note “thanx for having me join J Date. Which one do you want for your future son-in-law?”
She resplied “sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs…” Thanks Mom.