Concrete Jungle Where Dreams Are Made Of

What a day in the love life of me. He was cute, tall, a little older than I’d usually go for, but I’m open. It was the Internet. The cruelest part about dating in your thirties is staying “open”. I’ve spent thirty-one years honing my spidey sense to tingle at the first sign of asshole, but at the behest of well-meaning friends and a newfound fear of dying alone, I have to squelch my one super power at every turn.

We exchanged a couple of hilarious messages. I obviously slayed. He was making some pretty hip dick jokes but then he dropped the tiniest red flag*. I’m paraphrasing but the gist of what he said is, “OkCupid is fine, but I have to deal with a lot of old stalkers.”

Old stalkers?


Bro, you are forty-four years old. Unless there are great g-mas creaking around your apartment sniffing your sheets when you’re gone, I doubt that very much. But I’m giving chances. So, to give this guy a chance to not sound like a prolapsed asshole, I said, again paraphrasing, “LOL, old stalkers? You must be a celebrity, how do you deal? I’m cool and fun so don’t worry about offending me!” He replied that OkCupid’s match algorithms were off. So I checked that profile. This dude is forty-four. The age range of his ideal lady? Twenty-two to forty-two.

Surprisingly in the age of outrage, we don’t talk about this obnoxious but common situation. There are so, so many men on dating sites who will date women twenty years younger then they are but WON’T DATE WOMEN THEIR OWN AGE. In my experience, without fail, they turn out to be assholes. Never in my many years of dating on the Internet have I met one who turned out to really like and respect women but just had too much energy for a women in her forties. That’s not a real thing.

Usually I would just ghost at this point. But tonight, for the first time, I dyed my hair to cover my grays. It’s not the time to quietly ignore a little misogynistic ageism. So I told this guy, who really I should be nice to since he’s dealing with so much dry old puss being flung at him, that because of his age issues and the way he talks about women, we do not share the same values. He wrote back and told me that I really am funny, maybe being nice but also maybe turning my most sought after compliment into a patronizing put down.

I don’t have a cool ending to this story, simply the fact that everyone is the worst but if you give them a chance, at least you might get re-inspired to visit your blog.

*That is how football works right? Progressively larger red flags? Soccer? I know it’s in the rules of one of the sports.

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