Dating and Other Self-Destructive Acts

So I kind of went on a date last weekend. Well, not really a date, more of a Hi, Stranger kind of thing, but given the time elapsed since my last Hi, Stranger thing, I thought it qualified as a date.

It all started when I came home one Saturday afternoon and found Daughter #1 on my computer checking her online dating service. One thing led to another and pretty soon she was signing me up to receive messages from complete strangers too. Now I’m hanging out in the online world, waiting to get proposals of all kinds, indecent or otherwise, although nothing indecent has been proposed, maybe because men my age have learned a thing or two about women my age. Or maybe they just aren’t in a hurry anymore.

And here’s what you’ll find if you search your average online dating site for men of a certain age living in Minnesota: a lot of pictures of guys holding fish. Big fish. Now, far be it from me to suggest that this might be a metaphor for something else, but what’s the deal? Do they think women find men with large tackle particularly attractive? Are they proving they can put food on the table? The only thing it makes me think is, boy, I’m glad I didn’t have to clean that big stinky fish.

Another thing you find is pictures of men with their machines – cars, motorcycles, boats (plenty of boaters in these parts). Sometimes the men aren’t even in the photo – it’s just a picture of a car, motorcycle or boat all by itself. I went so far as to add a clarification to my profile: “I am not a boater. If you’re looking for someone to be that special ‘first mate,’ best look elsewhere.”

So anyway, I had this Hi, Stranger experience last weekend, which was not unpleasant, but the most interesting part of the whole thing was the feedback from Daughters #1, #2 and #3, who apparently are under the impression that they have the right (nay, the obligation) to weigh in on something this rare and this enormous. I didn’t mind the phone calls clamoring for details, but I did get a little miffed by comments like, “Good for YOU, Mom!” Like I might just be the most pitiful excuse for a date in the seven-county metro area. Which I am not. I am a darn fun date. I can hold up my end of a conversation, you better believe it.

Anyway, Daughter #1 tells me this is how things work nowadays. So, okay, I can hang out with the online daters for a while. Winters around here are almost endless.