online dating

All posts tagged online dating

Dating. Well, The Lack Thereof

Published July 14, 2017 by mindfulofchatter



I have tried online dating on and off. If you search back, you find posts about the various dates I went on. Most are pretty funny overall. Some are just tragic. Dating at any age is total pain in the arse. Trying to date in your 50’s is a pain in much more than your arse. It just plain stinks.

The questions these supposedly mature men ask are incredible. It’s like talking to a 16-year-old. They are not questions they would ask if sat in a coffee house face to face with someone. But online? Hey, nothing is off limits. Even when they are TOLD it is off limits, they ask anyway.

I thought perhaps this was an issue only for us older women. But no. I know someone who is in her late 30’s and wanting to date again. We chatted a bit about the online dating ‘scene’ and I found her interactions were pretty much the same as mine.

Men lie. About everything. Their name, their job status, their marital status. They ask highly inappropriate questions and demand answers they have no business knowing. Then, of course, you are a bitch for shutting them down. One man I kind of liked finally confessed he signed up so he could get laid. He wasn’t interested in a real relationship. Really? Just go the corner bar for that.

I don’t understand any of this. Why would anyone be such a total douche? Why can’t you just be who you are in real life? Is that so difficult? And why the hell are you on a dating site if your ass is married?

And I get it. It isn’t just men. It’s everyone. Sexual preferences don’t matter. People are assholes online because they are online and don’t have to face the humanity across the table. No one is safe from the online joke that is called a dating site.

As much as I’d like to find a male companion, I don’t see it happening any time soon. I am too old for any ‘meet cute’ thing. The closest I could get is both of us kneeling down to tie shoes laces and realizing neither one of us can get back up without a hand. And I seriously doubt I will be filling bulk bins at work and meet the eyes of some nice man who things I’m all that and a bag of chips. It simply doesn’t work that way once you get a bit older. It doesn’t help that I am too weird for the ‘normal’ crowd, and too ‘normal’ for the weird crowd. I am weirdly grounded?? Hmmmm…

In light of that, I’ll just keep on being happy alone. Because it’s perfectly okay to be alone.


In Search Of

Published February 20, 2017 by mindfulofchatter

Businesswoman standing on a ladder looking through binoculars

A friend of mine, who is also single, female and over fifty, recently posted;

ISO (in search of): Ethics, morals and integrity. Non smoker, non drinker and no drugs. Truck, tractor and tiller in very good working condition. Farm life background-knows how to set posts and fix horse fence. Must love good food, sassy conversation and me.

This made me think about what I am in search of. Only mine went sorta like this;

Must play with Legos, have a sense of humor, likes gargoyles, dragons….

It seems I’m looking for a 12-year-old.

The truth is I want most of the same things my friend wants. I just want a little more fun and less tractor/tiller/fencing. I used have the sort of life, and I loved it then, but it isn’t what I want now.

When you are older and dating, the rules change. They can’t help but change. We are no longer in our twenties with an entire life stretching before us. Most people over 50 are looking for someone settled in, secure, mature and who has made it past coloured building blocks.

I, however, still find joy in a lot things I ought to have out grown by now. I have gargoyles, a couple of dragons (Uh, not real ones. All that breathing fire leaves too ash to clean up) and few other things that may be viewed as immature. You know what is a complete blast? Digging in huge bin of Lego people parts building your own Lego dude (or dudette). You know who won’t do that without kids or grandkids present? The majority of men over fifty. Maybe even over forty.

I like the Marvel movies, Doctor Who, a little candy goth, a little steampunk, the list goes on. But the point is – I am not dead. I still want to play a little. So what if I’m the oldest person in the world in Hot Topic? I like Hot Topic. I enjoy looking the clothing and sometimes I buy a Doctor Who toy. Sometimes I buy a shirt. Why? Because I like it. It makes me laugh. Sometimes I put bright colours in my hair. They wash out, but they are fun. You remember fun, right?

I also like museums, classical music, theatre, BBC programs, diners, walking and other more grown up activities.

But the other side of that silly stuff coin IS  finding someone who is also responsible, ethical, has integrity, doesn’t do drugs and doesn’t drink himself stupid every chance he gets.

It’s a balance that is tough to find. Perhaps impossible. But I will keep bouncing along hoping that other oddball is out there. And, you know, single and age appropriate. Perhaps one day our eyes will meet over the Lego bin as we reach for the same Lego arm.

Excuse me now, I need to hit the nearest Lego store.

When You’re Older, Dating Isn’t a Breeze

Published February 7, 2017 by mindfulofchatter



I have been on online dating sites on and off since my marriage ended seven years ago. I am over fifty, not super skinny, nor a bombshell, though I am blonde.

I admit to being not the average 57 year-old looking for a date and potential relationship. I am long over picking up socks, cooking every meal, and knowing everyone else’s stuff is. This not Leave It To Beaver nor is it Father Knows Best, and I am not Donna Reed. I don’t think I even own a string of pearls. Hhmmmm…

There a lot of men out there who claim to not be looking for a Donna Reed, and who claim to want more from a relationship than the standard marriage/relationship fare. For those who DO want all of the above, good for you. There are women out there who want that too. You just gotta find each other.

But I am a force all my own, with odder hobbies and not-so-grown-up tastes unlike those of Better Homes and Garden. Sure, I want a nice home. But there will be gargoyles lurking in the corners and in the garden.

In a small effort on my part (very small because these things tend to make me throw up a little in my mouth), I read a couple of articles on older women and dating. And yeah, I threw up a little in my mouth.

The couple of articles that I read all the way through had some advice for us older gals on the prowl. Or the creak, as it may be. A few points stuck out to me.

Show more décolletage. (Décolletage is fancy term for neck, shoulders, back and chest)

It seems us older women tend to cover up too much. And gosh darn it, older men don’t like that. We come off as closed off and keeping our date at arm’s length.

Honestly guys, if you’re going to let a sweater keep you from good conversation and getting to know someone, you have more issues than I have. There is only so much ‘Men are visual’ I can take as an excuse.

Be more feminine and wear heels and dresses on your dates.

Can you see why these articles make me throw up a little bit? This is NOT the 1950’s. I am not going full out in a dress and heels to walk on the beach and get coffee. For most women, the type of date sets the attire. This why women always want to know what the plans are. We don’t want wear high heels to go to a football game, or show up in ratty jeans for a night out dancing. Yeah, we’re complicated creatures, but at least we wear clean socks.

Lean forward and engage your date in conversation.

To me this the big ‘Well, duh’ statement. However, a conversation needs two people or others may suggest you get medication. Have you ever met someone for a coffee date and they sit there like a lump on a log? No matter much you chat and ask questions, you get a whole lot of nada back. Yeah, those are fun.

Mostly, at least for me, the challenge is finding the older man (and I don’t mean older than I am – just sorta in my age range) that hasn’t gotten all fuddy and overly serious. If he can’t handle that I wore a sweater on first date, or declined to wear heels, or that I have gargoyles and a map of Middle Earth, then I guess I’ll keep looking.

I am okay being alone. Well, except for the talking to myself part.

My ‘Naked’ Truth

Published July 15, 2014 by mindfulofchatter

This is a re-blog from Robin Korth, an international speaker and writer. I stumbled upon this via Facebook, of all places. She says it all perfectly. What she went through with ‘Dave’ is the same thing I went through with a number of my coffee dates, and with my ex-husband. I almost cheered out loud when she told this dork-wad she would never hide her body for him or anyone else. Be proud of who you are – inside and out.

Take a read ladies and gentleman. This is for both sexes.


Naked, I stood at the closet doors with the lights on and made myself ready. I took a deep breath and positioned the mirrors so I could see all of me. I consciously worked to remove my self-believed inner image. I opened my eyes and looked very carefully at my body. And my heart lurched at the truth: I am not a young woman anymore. I am a woman well-lived. My body tells of all the years she has carried my spirit through life.

I am a 59-year-old woman in great health and in good physical shape. I stand five-feet, nine-inches tall and weigh 135 pounds. I wear a size six in both jeans and panties, and my breasts are nowhere near my navel. In fact, they still struggle to make it full-up in a B-cup bra. My thighs are no longer velvet and my buttocks have dimples. My upper arms wobble a bit and my skin shows the marks of the sun. There is a softness around my waist that is no longer perfectly taut, and the pout of my abdomen attests to a c-section that took its bikini flatness — but gave me a son.

Why this brutal scrutiny of myself? It was time to counter the damage of my culture, my own soft-held fear and to pour warm love on my own soul. It was time to claim every mark and not-perfect inch of my own body — a body that had been called “too wrinkled” by a man who was fetched by my energy and my mind, but did not like the bare truth of me. His name was Dave and he was 55 years old.

We met on a dating site. Dave was interesting, gentlemanly and bright. He held my hand and toured with me on long bicycle rides. He drove many miles to come to my door. He made meals for us both and ruffled my dog’s happy head. I was enticed and longed for the full knowing of this man. And so, we planned a weekend together. That’s when things got confusing, unspoken and just-not-quite there. We went to bed in a couple’s way — unclothed and touching — all parts near. Kisses were shared and sleep came in hugs. I attempted more intimacy throughout the weekend and was deterred each time.

On Monday evening over the phone, I asked this man who had shared my bed for three nights running why we had not made love. “Your body is too wrinkly,” he said without a pause. “I have spoiled myself over the years with young woman. I just can’t get excited with you. I love your energy and your laughter. I like your head and your heart. But, I just can’t deal with your body.”

I was stunned. The hurt would come later. I asked him slowly and carefully if he found my body hard to look at. He said yes. “So, this means seeing me naked was troublesome to you?” I asked. He told me he had just looked away. And when the lights were out, he pretended my body was younger — that I was younger. My breath came deep and full as I processed this information. My face blazed as I felt embarrassed and shamed by memories of my easy nakedness with him in days just passed.

We talked for some time more, my head reeling at the content of the conversation. He spoke of special stockings and clothing that would “hide” my years. He blithely told me he loved “little black dresses” and strappy shoes. He said my hair was not long and flowing as he preferred, but that was okay because it was “cool looking.” I felt like a Barbie Doll on acid as I listened to this man. He was totally oblivious to the viciousness of his words. He had turned me into an object to be dressed and positioned to provide satisfaction for his ideas of what female sexual perfection should be.

He explained that now that I knew what was required, we could have a great time in the bedroom. I told him no. I would not hide from my own body. I would not wear outfits to make my body more “tolerable.” I would not undress in the dark or shower with the bathroom door closed. I would not diminish myself for him — or for anyone. My body is beautiful and it goes along with my mind and my heart.

When I told Dave that I never wanted to see or hear from him again, he was confused and complained that I was making a big deal out of nothing. He whined that I had taken a small part of our relationship and made it a major event. I didn’t even want to try to explain the hurt and the horror that he had inflicted upon me. I actually felt sickly sorry for this man as I hung up the phone. It was after this call that I went to the bedroom and gently stripped off my clothes.

As I looked in the mirror — clear-eyed and brave — I claimed every inch of my body with love, honor and deep care. This body is me. She has held my soul and carried my heart for all of my days. Each wrinkle and imperfection is a badge of my living and of my giving of life. With tears in my eyes, I hugged myself close. I said thank you to God for the gift of my body and my life. And I said thank you to a sad man named Dave for reminding me of how precious it all is.

Robin Korth enjoys interactions with her readers. Feel free to contact her at or on Facebook.

To learn about her new book, “Soul on the Run,” go to:
You can also download her “Robin In Your Face” free daily motivational app by going to

Best First Date Ever

Published October 30, 2013 by mindfulofchatter

As I stated in my last post, I went to a group get together a couple of weeks ago.

The get together was for the singles group I had joined about a month ago. We are all in the same age bracket (50ish), all single, all looking to meet people our own ages. This is NOT meant to be a dating group. The intent is NOT to hook-up. It is for meeting people in the same age bracket to go do things with. You know, like lunch, concerts, theatre, etc.. It is based in a Facebook page where all the events are posted and ideas are kicked around by the group in large. We all get on pretty well (there is some drama still occurring now and then. I guess some folks thrive on that), joke with each other, make fun of each other and support each other when someone is having a tough time. All in all, it is a pretty darn good group of people.

This event was an art walk. Every year, this little town invites artists to draw in the street with chalk. There is a theme, and the artists may draw from the theme, or choose to do something else. There no hard set rules. Our group set a meeting time and place with the intent to have breakfast together, then view the beginning stages of the art, hang out for a while then go back to see the progress being made on the artwork. There were about 15 ‘yes’ responses from the group. A few did post that they had to cancel which brought us to expect 8 – 10 people.

After all the gung-ho responses, only us three made it. Three. Two of the people who showed up lived in the town where the event was planned. I drove in from my little hamlet a few miles away.

No to be deterred from a good time, we decided to proceed with the plan. Off we trooped for breakfast at a local spot. Even though it was chilly, we elected to sit outside with the girls who ran the pancake grill. We all choose pancakes and sausage. And hot tea. We had a fun breakfast. Lots of laughter and trying each other pancake flavors, joking with the servers and waiting for the sun to find us at our little table. When the checks came, our one and only male scooped them all up and paid them. He laughed and stated we were lucky only three of us came, or we’d have to pay our own bills.

Now we trundled our way to the closed off street to look at the art in progress. Some has begun adding colour, some were still laying out grids, some had a little of both down. It was fun to see the varying stages and to see what they were working on doing (most had a photo or drawing laid out for reference). After that, we wandered around a little bit chatting. Then the other gal said she had to leave. Errands to run, things to done and all that. Off she went, leaving me and the lone male, ‘Luke’, on our own.

Luke asked me what I wanted to do. I told him I had no clue. I didn’t live here and had no idea what there was TO do. So Luke walked with me to the downtown area and pointed out some of the shops that might be fun to look in. So off we went to explore. We nosed around the antique stores, the secondhand shops and the ‘hippie’ store (all tye-dye and incense type stuff). Luke noticed it was lunchtime, and off we went for lunch. After lunch there was more exploring little shops and returning to view the progress of the chalk art (some were very impressive!). Then I ran smack dab into a Lego store. Luke didn’t even know there was a Lego store! (we found out later it was pretty new). I went in straight in, Luke right on my heels. There were bins to play in! Bins of bricks, bins of people bits, bins of all sorts of Legos! You could build something, then buy it if you wanted to. I made a bee-line to the people-parts bin. In no time flat, both of us were elbow deep in Lego people bits. We both built steampunk Lego guys. It took us about 1.5 hours to find all the pieces we wanted and fit them together. Okay, yeah. We were the oldest kids there. But we had a blast. After we had built our guys, Luke plucked my guy out of my hand and bought him for me.

Lego Dude

He even gambled and bought a mystery figure (you don’t know what you get until you open it). We nosed around the store for a while, asked questions, and had fun chatting with the sales clerk.

Now it was getting to be dinner time. Luke invited me to his place to watch a movie. I accepted. He cooked dinner for us.  We watched a movie, talked and laughed late into the night.

Not many men in their 50’s would have spent a day prowling through antique stores and secondhand shops, let alone play in a bin of Lego parts for over an hour. Most would have made excuses of things they needed to do and places they needed to be. They would have left at the first polite opportunity. But Luke did not. And you know what that added up to?

The best date ever.

General Dating Rant

Published July 31, 2013 by mindfulofchatter

rant alert


I have been single for a while now. More than a while, more like 4 years. In those 4 years I have had maybe a handful of real dates. I don’t count meet n’ greets as dates.  I am signed up on a couple of the free dating sites. I don’t use the paid ones because they are all the same. The same people are on most of the sites, the ‘matching’ is crap and a waste of time (they never it even remotely right) and none of them really weed out the creepers or the fake profiles. So why pay for the misery? Um, I mean service.

I read through personal ads mostly for fun. I rarely write to anyone. Most of the personal ads are gross (I’m looking for a woman who likes to be licked) or just married men looking for affairs (back to the ‘I have no love at home. wah! wah! wah! ‘Grow up fellas, you married her. Deal with the problems or get a divorce).  There are a few who sound like they may be looking for a real relationship, but have added so many parameters not even a real goddess could pass the tests. I shared with you the ad where the man lists all the qualities he wants. From height to hair color, weight to interests, he’s  got it all mapped out. He’s going to be alone for long time unless he can manage a little wiggle room. One of the latest ads states ‘If you can’t run a mile without gasping for air, don’t bother to respond.’ Okay. Miss out on great gal because she has asthma or something that prevents her from running. He never states HE can run a mile without gasping for breath, so why do I need to? (To be honest, I hate to run. I will not be running a mile anytime soon. Unless the zombie apocalypse comes and I really need the cardio. See Rule #1)

I understand there are a lot of very large/obese people out there. I understand a lot of people want a partner who can be active. But this trend of having to have an über fit person to DATE is ridiculous. You guys ever think that if you take a lady out and get her moving, she’ll get more fit? No? Try it. You may find the woman of your dreams in a slightly chubby package. I do not weigh over 300 pounds. I’m not even at 200 pounds. I AM a little chubby. Guess what? If I had someone to go out with, I’d be out hiking/swimming/walking/ whatever a lot more often. And I’d get fitter and trimmer. See how that works?

Some of my dating profile peeves/ads are:

Must be HWP.

This means height/weight proportionate. Sounds reasonable until you realize the people using this term have no clue what HWP actually is. They forget overall build plays a part. Being 5’10” and 130 lbs is NOT HWP.  It’s just plain gross. Welcome the walking skeleton.

Loves 80’s music.

Seriously. What is it with the 80’s music! Was Boy George all that different and earth shaking? Did Madonna really change your life? Was Earth, Wind and Fire really all that and a bag of chips? Yes, I still like a lot of songs from the 80’s. But let’s move forward and mix in some current tunes as well.

No tattoos or piercings.

I get this one. But what about the folks who got tattoos eons ago and arent’ covered in them? Are we automatically out of the running because we got a small tattoo 30 some odd years ago? Maybe this should be stated more along the lines of ‘I don’t like a woman(man) covered in tattoos and piercings.’ Geez, one tiny butterfly and you hate my guts without ever meeting  me. Kinda harsh there, dude.

Must be fit

I covered this one above. Fit can a lot of things and stages. I can ‘out yoga’ a guy 30 years younger than me. So I am farily fit, but I can’t run a mile. I have a female friend who out ride me on a bicycle, but lags a bit when she rides with people who have ridden longer than she has. Is she fit? Yep.

Must be between age A and age B

Okay. I understand this one too. I don’t want to date someone my sons age. Nor do I want to date a man in his 70’s. This irks me when it’s a man who is 56 and wants a woman between 27 and 40. Pretty much anyone who is looking for someone 15 – 20+ years younger. Yeah, yeah. I’m ‘young at heart’ too, but I’m not looking to date my kid’s friends. And unless she has serious ‘daddy issues’, she doesn’t want to date your old arse either.

So I am a bit frustrated with the whole dating thing. I’m not super picky about looks. We are all gonna look like Ernest Borgnine one day.  I can deal with a few extra pounds, hair is nice but bald is not a deal breaker (after all, Yul Brenner was a hottie) and I only ask that someone is my height or taller. While I like the over 6 footers, I don’t have to have one. I do want someone who showers on a regular basis, knows how to shave (I hate the stubble look) and can laugh his ass off at himself or at me (I’m a dork). And shares my slight nerdiness.

You would think this wouldn’t be so difficult.



Mr. Dinner And a Movie

Published July 27, 2013 by mindfulofchatter


His little profile said he was looking for a long-term relationship (LTR for those of you unfamiliar with the dating abbreviations). He added the normal ‘man’ things about who he was looking for and some of the things he liked. He didn’t seem too picky about appearances. He seemed more like he was looking for the human inside. There were no photos included. But what the heck. One never knows what one may find behind curtain number 1. Maybe later I can trade for the box or curtain number 3.

So I sent off a note and waited to see what came back. He wrote back a little while later, telling me he wasn’t at home and wouldn’t be there for a while. I found that a bit odd, since I hadn’t asked to ring him or visit him. And since he did answer from his phone, the whole not being home thing seemed to be a moot point. I did get another message from him telling me he was now home, but his grandson was with him. Again, unless he’s sharing his e-mails with the kidlet, I don’t see why the grandson being there had anything to do with our e-mails. But okay, I can roll with things.

After a couple of e-mails, he asked for a photo, and I sent him one. What the heck, if my mug frightens him off, so be it. Hopefully he won’t be sharing that scary thing with the grandson. So off my mug went via e-mail.

This is the part where I generally see all communication cease. Since I am not a Victoria’s Secret model, and it seems a lot of men are seeking said model, once I send a pic I am pretty resigned to the fate of crickets chirping in my mailbox.

But Mr. Dinner and Movie replied! There may be something here! His e-mails weren’t bad. Not the best, but not horrible. So I was a little bit pleased that he wasn’t run off by my mug shot. I asked him for a photo in return. And got one.

Of his sofa and television set.

No, no. He wasn’t sitting on the sofa. He was nowhere to found in the photo. It simply a photo of his sofa and his huge TV (does a huge TV equate the same way having a sports car or giant truck does? I wonder……………)

So I asked for a photo of him. Unless, of course, he was indeed a sofa. (Who knows? Maybe he has an improbability drive and normality hasn’t returned yet)

So he did, finally, sent me a photo of himself.  No sofa. No TV. I rather preferred the sofa.

Oh, it’s not that he is a bad looking fellow. It’s that he didn’t bother. To shave. To comb his hair. Or put on a clean, unwrinkled shirt. He just looked unkept and as if he didn’t care that he looked unkept. Now that’s all fine and dandy for him. But not so much for me. I care about keeping myself clean and looking like I didn’t dress from the pile of clothes on the floor (or from the hamper). Add to this his note that stating he has well over 600 (Oh yes, you read that correctly – six hundred) DVDs, a 65″ TV, and his idea of a good time is sitting at home watching movies, and we have a ‘No way, José. Not in a million years’ from my end.

It’s not that I don’t love movies. I do. You may have noticed a few movies references in my blog posts. I am blessed (perhaps cursed is more appropriate) with being able to remember movies lines, actors, plots, etc. I can even tell you who that guy is under a ton of makeup (this annoys my daughter to no end). But staying home every night to watch a movie is not my idea of fun.  I do like to go out from time to time.

Mostly it was his unkept appearance that turned me off instantly. He knew he was on a dating site. He knew women were going to be asking to see what he looked. And yet he couldn’t be bothered to clean up for a simple photograph. If he can’t be bothered to look nice while looking for a date, I’m betting he can’t be bothered to look nice, well, ever.

So no dinner and a movie for me.

At least I won’t have to share my popcorn.