Saturday, 18 November 2017

It's a date!

I have gone on a dating site!! I was reluctant after a brief experience a couple of years ago on eharmony—felt as though I was auctioning myself off. Not nice.
But my daughter kept suggesting it and Naz totally convinced me that it was the thing to do. Anyway, I am sharing this bold move (yes, it was for me) because I was supposed to blog about Sunday arvo at The Shared in Yandina and didn’t get around to it because Elite Singles takes time. Yes, it does sound a bit uppity but Naz had done the research and concluded that it is one of the better sites. And she knew I wouldn’t join unless she sat down beside me while I ticked boxes, and typed in what my passions were, what I was most grateful for, and uploaded photos. Naz was adamant not just the profile photo, but to upload others too. Marketing one’s self is a pain.   
My profile photo

But I figure, it is worth giving it a try and if I don’t find a decent bloke I can then settle back into happy acceptance of the single life.
But being on a site is not for the faint hearted or time poor. It takes time because Elite Singles bombards you with emails (George has posted a photo, someone has looked at your profile) and you have to make assessments all the time: Does his photo tell the truth? Does it do him justice? Is it really him? How old is the photo? And really Ted, don’t slouch in the chair like that, and Rick I want to see your face not some microscopic figure on a beach.
And they are soooo old (well, all except for 37-year-old Darius who just seemed a weirdo)
And what is the protocol. Naz disabused me of the notion that I should wait for the man to click the smile icon alongside my profile. No, No, No, she said. This is 2017, take the initiative. Another decision I have to make. But a glass of wine fortified me the other night and I sent three smiles. None smiled back.
But it hasn’t all been rejection, blokes have taken the initiative and smiled at me. And I decided to smile back unless they looked really decrepit or lecherous. But I found that doesn’t work either because then they send a message and when I read it, I don’t want to reply… but I don’t want to hurt their feelings … oh, the responsibility of it all.
How do you politely say not interested after they have told you about looking after their ailing parents? I have quickly realised that it is a brutal space and early decisive rejection is the least hurtful.
I did get a chuckle out of Francois who wrote and said that I could teach him how to blog and sail to Europe with him … what an old snake charmer … as if.
But there has been one bloke who has piqued my interest. And I’m meeting him tomorrow … what do I wear … my hair is not quite right … and I had forgotten how fat I was.

I wrote this over a week ago. And he is a decent bloke. But if it doesn’t work out, I’m sure Naz will come up with another strategy totally out of my comfort zone. Then again, I could just settle back with a good book.