Your Grandmother Wants to Date Me
Once again saddled with a bad case of insomnia, I shoved the dogs off of my legs (I have a queen size bed and yet they have to lay right on top of me) and rolled out of the used side of the bed to go take some benadryl and surf the web for a bit. I fired up the PC and was notified by yahoo that I had e-mail. Bonus, it was from the dating service I have been using every now and then when I feel particularly alone.
Now let me preface this by saying that I used to be one of those people that chuckled when I heard the phrase "I met him/her online." I would shake my head and imagine the worst possible scenarios. I've even heard a couple of them. One friend in particular managed to find a woman in Seattle. Now I'm no master of geography, but it seems to me that Washington state is more than just a day trip from Tennessee. Danny (named changed to protect the idiot) fell in love with his online temptress and they decided to make it official, but instead of meeting in a neutral state, or one flying out to meet the other, they decided to move her from Seattle to Memphis. At this point in his tale I was rolling my eyes and thinking of a hundred different ways that Danny boy was fucking up. He topped them all. He drove his pickup a bazillion miles to Seattle, loaded all of her shit into a u-haul trailer, and then the two love birds began their journey back to the land of Elvis. They made it to Kansas before chickie decided it the whole affair wasn't such a good idea and made him drive BACK to Seattle. I promptly told him I would have left her bitch ass in Kansas. That's just the kind of sweetheart that I am.
Anyway, my whole attitude toward online dating changed after my divorce. All of the women in my little circle of redneck hell are looking for some kind of combination Ike Turner/Kid Rock type. Apparently I have several things going against me, including being able to hold down a job, having no kids (they prefer a diverse brood with many different mothers to deal with), and the law isn't looking for me. So I gave the online dating thing a try.
I quickly found out that my other faults showed up in a dating profile without my smartass charm to balance them out. It seems that I'm too short, too ugly, and too poor to be a good fit for most women. If I could meet them face to face, my personality can sometimes win them over, but I will never have women fighting over me. Anyway, the short story is that women simply don't reply to my "flirts" or "ice breakers" or whatever other cutesy name these sites come up with to describe an interest. I have trouble with e-mail because what's funny to me is rarely funny to others and my messages all scream "stalker." I recognize this for what it is and eventually just left the poor women alone. I sort of cheat on my profile because I put a picture of my Golden Retriever, Daisy, up and she is much, much, cuter than I am. The result is ok. Every now and then somebody will get intrigued enough to say hello. I have snagged a few dates out of it, some good, some bad, but I think I'm gonna quit for awhile. I believe it's a lot like selling a house, if it's on the market too long, there has to be something wrong with it, right? At least that's the theory I'm going with now because the only messages I get have profiles attached that begin with "I love spending time with my grandchildren."
Now, I try not to have any bias. I give everyone an equal shot, because you never know, but I am looking for something a little bit south of collecting social security. I'm only 37 fer cryin' out loud!
So, tonight, I'm excited because somebody has sent me an email. Bless the septuagenarian's heart. I'm all for the Ashton/Demi relationship. If you want somebody young enough to be your child, I say go for it. But.....please don't start your e-mail with "I love sitting on the porch and watching my grandchildren play."
People say, "I want to get laid a lot and make lots of money." That's not the right order.
-Gene Simmons
Now let me preface this by saying that I used to be one of those people that chuckled when I heard the phrase "I met him/her online." I would shake my head and imagine the worst possible scenarios. I've even heard a couple of them. One friend in particular managed to find a woman in Seattle. Now I'm no master of geography, but it seems to me that Washington state is more than just a day trip from Tennessee. Danny (named changed to protect the idiot) fell in love with his online temptress and they decided to make it official, but instead of meeting in a neutral state, or one flying out to meet the other, they decided to move her from Seattle to Memphis. At this point in his tale I was rolling my eyes and thinking of a hundred different ways that Danny boy was fucking up. He topped them all. He drove his pickup a bazillion miles to Seattle, loaded all of her shit into a u-haul trailer, and then the two love birds began their journey back to the land of Elvis. They made it to Kansas before chickie decided it the whole affair wasn't such a good idea and made him drive BACK to Seattle. I promptly told him I would have left her bitch ass in Kansas. That's just the kind of sweetheart that I am.
Anyway, my whole attitude toward online dating changed after my divorce. All of the women in my little circle of redneck hell are looking for some kind of combination Ike Turner/Kid Rock type. Apparently I have several things going against me, including being able to hold down a job, having no kids (they prefer a diverse brood with many different mothers to deal with), and the law isn't looking for me. So I gave the online dating thing a try.
I quickly found out that my other faults showed up in a dating profile without my smartass charm to balance them out. It seems that I'm too short, too ugly, and too poor to be a good fit for most women. If I could meet them face to face, my personality can sometimes win them over, but I will never have women fighting over me. Anyway, the short story is that women simply don't reply to my "flirts" or "ice breakers" or whatever other cutesy name these sites come up with to describe an interest. I have trouble with e-mail because what's funny to me is rarely funny to others and my messages all scream "stalker." I recognize this for what it is and eventually just left the poor women alone. I sort of cheat on my profile because I put a picture of my Golden Retriever, Daisy, up and she is much, much, cuter than I am. The result is ok. Every now and then somebody will get intrigued enough to say hello. I have snagged a few dates out of it, some good, some bad, but I think I'm gonna quit for awhile. I believe it's a lot like selling a house, if it's on the market too long, there has to be something wrong with it, right? At least that's the theory I'm going with now because the only messages I get have profiles attached that begin with "I love spending time with my grandchildren."
Now, I try not to have any bias. I give everyone an equal shot, because you never know, but I am looking for something a little bit south of collecting social security. I'm only 37 fer cryin' out loud!
So, tonight, I'm excited because somebody has sent me an email. Bless the septuagenarian's heart. I'm all for the Ashton/Demi relationship. If you want somebody young enough to be your child, I say go for it. But.....please don't start your e-mail with "I love sitting on the porch and watching my grandchildren play."
People say, "I want to get laid a lot and make lots of money." That's not the right order.
-Gene Simmons
posted by Bat at 5:59 AM
4 Comments:
I'm married and live in Arizona, so I can't help you any in your search for love. However, I do enjoy reading your posts. I appreciate your sarcasm and love that your grammar is flawless.
I find it necessary to point out to you that the grandmothers showing interest in you may not be anywhere near collecting social security. Let's face it, said women may have produced offspring at age 15. Their offspring may have produced at age 16. Hell, these grandmas may be younger than you.
I realize I have provided no solace considering these women proably have the televisions tuned to either "American Chopper" or NASCAR as they watch the grandkids pick up the cigarette butts and beer cans from the yard before the social worker drops by for her visit.
Sorry, what started out as a post to provide hope has not ended as well as I had planned.
Good luck, though. At least you're not making worthless trips to Seattle.
Great, thanks for the the pick me up. I guess I won't need that special kool-aid after all.
All right, so maybe most of the inspirational words somehow got lost among the rest in my attempt to help you out.
I'm glad, however, that you decided to forgo the special kool-aid. Good decision.
I look forward to reading another post on your site. You know, if you can take time from writing granny emails.
Anyone who doesn't email you from the dating sites is really missing out on a great thing. I think you're an awesome person, and I thought that before I met you. When I met you, I got to see just how cute and sexy you are, and your sense of humor absolutely rocks! You'll always have a gal in Knoxville. :)
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