Month: November 2019

I’ve been doing the online dating thing for 4 months. Between 5 different dating apps I was on at one point, I’ve sent the equivalent of a “like” to at least 500 hundred men, and that’s a low estimate. Four actual dates, one almost date, one second date. Disappointing, discouraging, disheartening – pick your favorite “d” verb. A few friends tell me I’m more attractive in person than in my pictures. I’ll admit I am not very photogenic, but I thought my pictures were pretty good. Certainly not bad enough to turn off hundreds of men. And it’s not like I haven’t had attention – between the 5 sites I’ve been contacted by at least 1000 men, only a relative few I found interesteing. I do think I’m kind of an acquired taste, but (as I am wont to do) I digress.

On the dating sites my requested age range is generally 42-65 (as a reminder I’m 52). About a month ago I got a message from a man who is 67. I’m calling him “Desert Dude” or “DD” (it’s a play on his profile name). He said he’s only 2 years outside my age range and would I consider meeting him. I looked at his profile. He’s very fit and young looking for his age, and quite attractive. He seemed to be genuinely interested in meeting me. I have a dear friend who is 67 and he’s a great companion to his younger wife, so I thought what the heck.

A few weeks after our first communication we finally set up a date. We didn’t do a lot of communicating before our date which was actually fine with me in this case. I’m not sure why. As you know I like to at least message a little to get to know him a bit first. I guess I felt that with him it would be better to just meet. In this case I suggested the place and gave him the choice of drinks and apps at 4pm or dinner at 6pm. He chose dinner. Cool.

Maybe because of the lack of communication I was quite ambivalent about meeting DD. I didn’t have any expectations and wasn’t super hopeful it would lead to anything, but I had to try. My tummy was upset, but it felt more like first date jitters than a warning. We met at a great local spot in the north foothills called Fini’s Landing – we all just call it Fini’s. I was, as is becoming typical for me, early. It was a little chilly, however there isn’t really any place inside to wait for someone so I stood outside in the chilly evening. Only a few minutes later DD arrived, a little early himself. He looked like his pictures which was good. He’s totally cute, like for sure. I watched Valley Girl the other night. Sorry…

We found a table. I ordered my usual chardonnay and he ordered a 7 and soda. He was very specific about making sure it was Seagram’s 7. No worries. I understand. I used to drink Bacardi almost exclusively. I didn’t like any other rum. I am currently obsessed with carne asada. The last time I ate at Fini’s I had carne asada tacos, and they were good. My mouth is watering right now just thinking about them. Yes, I again got the carne asada tacos, and a house salad. He got salmon and a shrimp taco. With all of the ordering done, we could converse. I thought.

He dominated at least 80% of the conversation. When he wasn’t talking about himself he didn’t seem very interested in my answers to his questions. When I tried to interject periodically I was often rebuffed. He’d just continue to talk right over me. If you were to ask him what he learned about me, he could tell you I have an elderly father with Alzheimers, I’m a life-long Tucsonan, and maybe a few other things. I got his whole friggin’ life story. The only animated 2-way conversation we had was when we were talking about local politics, and even then his opinion or thought was more important.

When our food came DD had rolled up his sleeves on the button front shirt he was wearing. No, it’s not a “button down” shirt. There is a “button down collar” and a “button front shirt.” Until people started screwing it up, there was no such thing as a “button down shirt.” It’s so commonly used now there’s no point trying to change it. Don’t even get me started on “sequins” and “sequence.” Digressing again… I point out his sleeve situation because he was constantly adjusting his rolled up sleeves. He kept fixing the folding of said sleeves several times a minute. After a while I stopped paying attention to what he was saying and marveled at his sleeve adjustments. I wanted to see if he would notice my attention had strayed to his sleeves. He did not.

I love sports. As a child, I watched sports with my dad. Football, baseball, basketball yes, but also things like the Indy500, Ali fights, the Olympics, Wide World of Sports, etc. My dad listened to Dodgers games on the radio, and you can’t do better than grow up listening to Vin Scully call a baseball game. Because of that I always thought my dad was a Dodgers fan. As it turns out, he is an Orioles fan. Dodgers games were the only ones we could get on the radio! To this day I like listening to sports on the radio. And there really isn’t anything much better than going to a baseball game on a beautiful day and enjoying some adult beverages. Yes, I love sports.

Even if the date itself had gone well, he still isn’t a good match for me. DD doesn’t like or pay attention to sports. Any of them. He likes to run and hike. That’s his sports. I like to go out for a myriad of different types of music, and I can and will dance to almost anything. He occasionally goes to see the Tucson Symphony. I love classical music, but ya can’t dance to it. And he doesn’t really like to go dancing. Thats not a dealbreaker as many men don’t like to dance. It was another nail in the 2nd date coffin. I mentioned to him a place I like to go frequently to listen to live music that is definitely not on the west side. He had no idea where I was talking about, he never goes that far west. He lives in a condo in a wealthy part of town, but is a minimalist. I am not a minimalist. Ask my friends and family. To be fair, a good amount of my non-minimalist “stuff” is sewing and crafts related. Much of the rest is Halloween and Christmas stuff, and tools and wood and such in my workshop. And clothes, lots and lots of clothes and shoes. I need to have the “right” shoe or the outfit just feels off.

I’m thinking of renaming this post “But I Digress.”

Remember, I basically set up the date so I fully expected to pay for dinner. When the check came I reached for it first and he practically snatched it from my hand. I insisted on paying the tip. I think men appreciate a woman who doesn’t just assume the man is going to pay for everything. And I’m not one of those who get the most expensive thing on the menu because someone else is paying. I actually tend to do the opposite and usually go for a less expensive option. I was grateful as always that I didn’t have to pay the whole bill.

A big test for me is if a man walks me to my car. Even if I’m parked close most men will walk me to my car. I typically park farther away on purpose pretty much everywhere I go. I do it for the extra exercise. Every bit helps and it does add up. I take the stairs a lot too. He asked if I was parked close, and upon my confirmation that tonight I was, he left. It should go without saying, but there won’t be a second date with Desert Dude. I enjoyed the carne asada tacos so much I went back to Fini’s a few days later with friends. Yes, I got the carne asada tacos and a house salad. And I’d do it again too.

“Joe” and I indeed decided to have a 2nd date, but scheduling proved difficult. My best friend and two close friends were in town from Boston for a wedding we were all attending. Usually the out-of-town guests attend the rehearsal dinner. I figured that would leave me 2-3 free hours for a date with Joe. It turns out only my BFF was attending the rehearsal dinner ’cause he’s actual blood family which left me time with my other 2 friends. It did not leave me time for a date with Joe. We had to reschedule. He was very understanding. We rescheduled for Sunday evening, two nights later.

Mexico celebrates “Dia de los Muertos,” or “Day of the Dead” the day after Halloween. Usually the first Sunday after Halloween Tucson has it’s own version of the observance of Dia de los Muertos when we hold a parade called the All Souls Procession. Most people walking in the parade and even some spectators dress up in different costumes and face paint. Many have remembrances of those who have passed, pictures mostly, but some have more elaborate small floats and such to honor one or more individuals. Joe and I were going to go watch the procession which starts around dusk (530-6pm). That Sunday I spent the day with my BFF and his family and our friends at his nephews’ house. By the time Joe called (3:30 PM) to arrange to meet, the carne asada and pollo asada were just about done on the grill. I don’t get to see my friends and my BFF and his family very often, and I am currently obsessed with carne asada. I really didn’t want to leave yet. It was Joe who suggested another reschedule. At least I know he’s flexible and understanding. We finally scheduled a hike and dinner on the following Thursday.

In light of what the musician taught me about trusting my body to tell me what’s right, you may be wondering what my body was telling me about Joe. Other than the usual 1st date jitters and 2nd date anxiety about where we were going (because it was unfamiliar), my body wasn’t telling me anything. No upset tummy, no back pain which I’ve learned is usually a good sign.

Date day arrives. My biggest concern was finding a cute outfit I could hike in and easily make appropriate for dinner out. I decided if I was okay going hiking alone with him, it would probably be okay for him to know where I live and he could pick me up. My close friends will tell you I am not a good housekeeper. Over the last few months I have made an effort to keep the common areas neat and somewhat clean – Tucson has a lot of dust, it’s almost a losing battle. The problem keeping my house neat comes when I’m working on a project. In this case post-Halloween costume and decoration stuff was strewn about the house. I did not intend for Joe to come inside, but I was running late feeding the dogs and couldn’t just leave him sitting outside. I was a little embarrassed about the clutter. I apologized for the mess, fed the dogs and we left.

I admit I found him better looking on our 1st date, and thus far I enjoyed our 1st date conversation more than I was enjoying our 2nd date conversation. We arrived at the trailhead and set out on our hike, talking as we walked. The conversation was getting better. We found a spot to sit and watch the sunset. He brought some white wine that was actually pretty good. We sipped, talked, and watched the sun go down. Before it got too dark we headed back. We were hiking in the foothills on the north side of Tucson, and we made our way to a Mexican food restaurant nearby. The weather was nice enough to sit outside. More conversation, good food, and margaritas. I don’t think I should have had all of that margarita. It was a large margarita. I think I over shared with Joe. It wouldn’t be the 1st time. I really need to remember to limit my alcohol consumption when out with someone new.

When we were leaving we finally kissed. He’s a pretty good kisser. He has a vandyke (it’s the facial hair most people incorrectly call a goatee. A goatee is just the chin beard part. The vandyke has the chin beard with a mustache and they are connected around the mouth). It’s not soft, instead it’s pretty scratchy and stiff which I don’t like, but it’s not a dealbreaker. In my Mexican food and margarita fed mind, I agreed a 3rd date would be great.

It’s now 5 days since the date with Joe and I realize I have no burning desire to see him or even talk to him. He’s a nice man with beautiful eyes, but I don’t feel any spark with him. Joe is not smart enough for me. I have mentioned this before with other men. As a reminder, I don’t expect an Einstein. I am not an Einstein. The gulf between Joe and I is pretty vast. Our lives took very different paths. He followed a creative path away from education. I did not. We have very different life experiences.

Perhaps most concerning, Joe doesn’t like sports. Any of them. None. He doesn’t watch them on TV or in person. Not football, basketball, tennis, ice dancing, rhythmic gymnastics, curling, badminton. Nothing. He doesn’t even like to go to a baseball game and enjoy some adult beverages. Who doesn’t like that? I at least need someone who’d drive up to Phoenix for a Diamondbacks game and get me a margarita. He said he prefers to participate instead of watching. Um, no. In case it isn’t obvious, we won’t be having a 3rd date. I think it’s safe to say he feels the same because I haven’t heard from him.

I’ve been doing the online dating thing for three and a half months. As y’all should be aware of by now, I’ve had 3 dates and no second dates with any of the men I’ve met online. That’s about to change.

I met a man on Match, for now I’ll call him “Joe.” We messaged back and forth a few times. Between our two schedules, it was difficult to find a time to meet. We finally set a date for almost a week away. Some men need to continue messaging before the date, especially if the date is a ways away. Some do not. Everything being equal, I’m fine either way. He did not feel the need for constant communication. He checked in with me to say hello and confirm our date.

Shortly after we had arranged to meet, I got a message from Joe addressed to “Elizabeth,” expressing sympathy for her surgery that delayed them meeting, and telling her of course they can reschedule (that was the gist not the entirety of their conversation). My 1st instinct was to be taken aback. I very quickly got over that, after all we’re on Match to date. The part of me that doesn’t trust men gave me the oddest thought that he did it on purpose to make himself seem more desirable. What it came down to is it didn’t really matter why. It wasn’t something that would make me want to cancel the date. I wasn’t going to even say anything about the mis-sent message, but if he didn’t do it on purpose she’d probably wonder why he never responded, and he’d wonder why she didn’t reply. So I replied “I’m not Elizabeth.” His response was a longer than necessary explanation and apology, but that’s okay. Better too much than too little I suppose. He assured me he is interested in meeting me, writing “really, I am looking forward to meeting YOU. ” He uses “lol” a lot. I told him I certainly wasn’t concerned about him meeting other women ’cause that’s what we’re there to do. I jokingly told him I was slightly concerned with his overuse of “lol.” When we confirmed our date he said he’ll be the one with “lol” tattooed on his forehead. He has a sense of humor about himself. I like that.

Date day arrives and I’m honestly not really wanting to go. It wasn’t a matter of my body telling me not to go. It was a result of my weariness with the men I’ve met in person, and the bad experiences with the Fire Captain and the Musician. As you can likely guess from the title of this post, I made myself go. We arranged to meet on the patio of a nice Italian restaurant not far from my house. I was early as usual. I found a place outside to sit, ordered my chardonnay and prepared to wait. Fun fact: I actually somewhat prefer red wine. When I’m out I usually drink white wine, primarily because I am a klutz. I can guarantee at some point or another I will spill said wine. I’d rather spill white than red.

He too was early, and was dressed casually but nice. Joe sat down (next to me not across from me which I liked) and took off his sunglasses. I was pleasantly surprised that he is better looking in person than in his pictures. He has really pretty eyes. What is the proper word to use when describing the beauty of a man’s eyes? Anyhow, we had drinks, eventually ordered some apps and just talked, for hours. I really don’t recall what exactly we talked about. It wasn’t like I was dreamily staring into his eyes with no care about the conversation. We talked about a lot of things, and before we knew it 3 hours had passed! I can’t remember all that. Sheldon Cooper I am not.

Joe paid the bill and first declined then accepted my offer to pay the tip. He walked me to my car. We had a nice long hug. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but he had to settle for kissing my cheek. We finally exchanged phone numbers and last names. I gave him the correct spelling of my first name. For several reasons, on the dating sites I spell my name “Robbie.” It’s easier to pronounce for one thing. Some people get thrown off by the “bye” at the end of “Robbye.” It also makes me harder to find. The spelling my mother gave me is unique enough as to make me easier to find. Anyhow, we agreed we’d like a second date.

As of this writing, we haven’t yet had a 2nd date. We are trying to reschedule a date I had to cancel because of a last minute schedule conflict. It will be my first second date from my online dating experience. We’ll see how it goes.