St. Valentine’s Day Massacre

I’m not bragging but I’m accustomed to receiving cards, flowers, something on Valentine’s Day. But this year, I checked my phone for a text, or a missed call. Nothing. It was a massacre of the heart. It was time to take matters in to my own hands. This travesty will never to happen again.

On-line dating. I signed up on all the dating sites. I filled out the questionnaires about my likes and dislikes. Apparently children, smoking and drinking are the three biggest determining factors in finding a mate. After telling some truths and some fudging I snapped my photo sent it off to Cupid. Then I waited for the pouring in of dates and my life to dramatically change.

I consulted with my friends.

“Well I don’t know what I would do if I was out there again.”

“This new age of computer dating is all different.”

WRONG!  The venue may have changed but the premise has not.

The same bar rules still apply. The “not really my type” are the first to approach, in this case a smiley face emoji, while the cute ones are playing it cool.  Still a taboo for a girl to reach out first. If I sent a smile I never got one back.  The ones who do ask for your number don’t call. Unless he’s not interested in me…crazy talk.

Some bios read like a beauty pageant contestant who only want to find true love, end world hunger.

The photos, my goodness!  Most of them look like they’re standing in a police line-up. They take selfies in the bathroom with piles of dirty laundry in the background.

Do they think this is a mail order bride service?

My favorite was a bio picture of Al Pacino in Scarface, hmmm potential.

Things were looking up. I got my first date request from a nice man.

Red flag – dinner at 6:00. Were we getting the early bird special?

Red flag – when I arrived he was drinking hot tea and offered me some as well. Tea? No cocktails!

I feel badly in saying this, but if he were a sandwich he would be mayonnaise on Wonder Bread, cut the crust. Come to find out chemical engineering is not fodder for scintillating conversation. There was a lot of dead air time. By 7:05 the dinner was done, bill paid, leftovers boxed up. It took me longer to get ready than the actual “date.”

“This was great,” he said, “do you want a second date?”

Ugh, I hate this part. I swung into old habits. “Sure.” I lied. In the past I’ve gone as far as to move to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. Here was one advantage to on-line dating… anonymity!

Men are like computers you think they’re going to change your life for the better, improve things, make it easier and more fun… but they don’t!

I hit the delete button. I canceled all my subscriptions. With that money I would be better served going to Anthropology, buying a sexy dress and hangout at a bar.

Before I deleted I sent every man a smiley face emoji.

Fat men, skinny men, men who climb on rocks,

Tough men, sissy men, even men with chicken pox.

Mic drop.

Live with waffletude.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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