When I started dating again, I threw myself into it, like the Kool-Aid man goes after a wall. I expected to break through into a room of mature men, just waiting for a relationship with a smart, savvy, slightly dorky woman, such as myself.
What I found, was a plethora of men who had reasons for being single in their 30s, and it wasn’t because they were waiting for the right woman to come along. Well, maybe if by the right woman, they meant someone worth knowing for an evening.
Too bad there weren’t too many of them who made that proposition appealing.Starting out, I used a certain infamous dating website where the lurid tales of sex ran rampant, and it was filled with men who were trying too hard to be pick-up artists. And there were a few who were in a very special class all on their own. They probably deserve an anthropological study.
Some of my favorites…
- I’m here for the hookups* (but I won’t come out and tell you that). I’m the tortured artist who will share the darkest tales from his Kerouac-esque existence and gaze soulfully in your eyes until your underwear fall off of your body. Then, I’ll text once the next day to make sure I don’t seem like a total douchebag, and end it all by ghosting.
- I like to swipe and wipe.* Yeah, I’m just a bro who loves to find his ladies while I’m sitting on the toilet having some thoughtful me time. I mean, who doesn’t want time with me? Just don’t choke on the cloud of Axe surrounding my ripped torso.
- I’m married and just looking for friendship. My wife knows I’m on here, and doesn’t mind. I travel a lot, so it’s hard to feel connected to people. Ignore the fact that my photo isn’t actually what I look like, and I won’t confirm or deny if that’s my real name, but it’s totally cool. Just ask my wife. Or don’t. She really doesn’t like to be bothered.
- I’m old enough to be your father, but really, we should go out. Yeah, I know I’m slightly older than what you said you prefer, but what’s 20 years when I’m sure we will have a deep, meaningful connection. You can connect to my money and I’ll connect to your vagina. Cool? I’ll meet you at that upscale steakhouse where you’ll order a salad and I’ll order a $100 bottle of wine to look good.
- I am young enough to be your kid, but really, we should go out. We’ll meet at that dive bar on campus where this underground, local band is playing. I’ll impress you with my deep understanding of karma and the connectedness of the universe (thank you Comparative Religion Class), and you can tell me all about that one trip you took to Phuket in college and how it totally changed your life. You’ll feel young, until you start yawning into your beer around 9:30 and realize that when you left college, you left crunchy hippies like me behind for a reason.
- I may not post any photos, but if I do, it will be of me, my three best friends, and you’ll only see the side of my face. Even better, I’ll post one of me, with a woman obviously cropped out. And of course she’s my sister. My sister always wears halter tops and lays on my shoulder. Doesn’t yours?
- I love talking to you and getting to know you, and then going inexplicably silent. I really don’t know why I do this, but it’s most likely because I’ve been sucked into an alternative dimension, because, really, what asshole takes the time to create a connection with someone and then vanishes?
- I won’t say boo even after you’ve worked up a sweat trying to get me to talk. Yeah, we both swiped right, so that means we should get along, right? Maybe. If I could muster up anything that vaguely resembled conversation. But, honestly, your beauty and staggering intelligence has rendered me mute, and I cannot possibly form sentences longer than three words. It’s just not going to happen. You are too amazing for me. Again, what other explanation could there be?
*actual line from a profile.
Despite being many, many years removed from college and the atrocious dating habits of 20-year-old men, guys in many ways, are still very much the same. Then, they reeked of Natty Light, and gave each other sweaty high fives after they made out with you. Now, it’s whiskey and desperation, mixed with the egotism that comes with being a seemingly stable adult.
But, once in a great while, when the moon is high and you’ve done the ritual “Sweet Baby Jesus, Please Let There Be Something More” prayer, you meet someone who is the right mix of smart, talkative, and handsome, and it reminds you that, after all, not all hope is lost.