Holy Cow!

A Blog by Gail Cushman

The mother board on my PC broke and it was smoky and hot outside, and the Olympics were being broadcast, so I took a day off from my usual writing habit and did mostly nothing. I say nothing, but did I ever get my eyes opened!

I was flipping through my cell phone, just surfing, which I seldom do, but came across a site that was entitled something like Internet Dating for Seniors. I thought what the heck, so I clicked on it. It seemed harmless enough. A few innocent pictures of handsome hunks showed up, followed by a registration page, which requested some basic non-life-threatening information about myself and what I might be looking for. Nothing, I thought to myself, but I filled it out, got a third cup of coffee because I needed fortification to do this, (if hindsight was 20-20, I would have added something stronger) and after hemming and hawing for a time, while I watched the American male swim team strut their stuff, I hit SEND. Yikes. A whole bunch of old men appeared, not one from my beloved home state. They cannot possibly be the pool of senior dating for ME. After all, I am slim and trim and built for speed and only have a few wrinkles and well, my hair is gray, but other than that…

It wasn’t long before I began getting messages, “Mortimer, age 56 likes you,” I passed because good, grief, my kids are in their 50s. Then “Z-22, age 98 wants to meet you.” Whatever would he want? I can only imagine. Then a bunch of people with motorcycles in their photos showed up, clean and shiny motorcycles, but I’m not a motorcycle babe. To those of you who are, you are braver than this Marine. Then came a parade of beards. I like beards, but shouldn’t you trim it before going on a dating site. It’s like taking a shower. The website was oh-so-helpful in pointing out that this person and that person were my gold star pick-of-the-day…they matched me in so many ways. The only way that I could see was that they (possibly) were alive. Their eyes were closed, and I couldn’t tell for sure.

Many photos were fuzzy, and I couldn’t separate the guy from his dog or horse. A couple had pictures of women, and I’m not at all sure what that meant. Most were non-smokers, non-drinkers and had no children. The majority had graduate degrees, although they couldn’t spell or punctuate their mini-bios correctly. Truth or not?

Then there was the guy who needed my phone number so he could skip the formalities of an introduction and get married. I’m not kidding. Holy cow.

It was time well spent. I learned a lot and got ammunition for this blog about my adventure. It was a fun way to spend a couple hours, but for the time being, I’m not looking for that pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, however enticing he might be.

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