Naked truth

It's been a busy spring.  No, of course not with dating, just life.  I finally found time to watch Star Wars: The Force Awakens and was pleased to see that a new generation of young men has been introduced to an attractive woman wearing a mask and tubing (see my post from February 8).  Sweet.

In recent weeks I've added a couple additional accoutrements to my bedtime ensemble.  In addition to my CPAP I now also wear a carpal tunnel wrist splint and sometimes my plantar fasciitis compression sock.  It's hot.  (Really.  My wrist gets really sweaty.  Couple that with my regular hormonal night sweats and it's a regular steambath of potential passion in there.)  While some men might find this a turn-off, you and I both know that there are probably freaks out there with a corrective medical appliance fetish.

Speaking of weird guys, I did "meet" someone on Tinder this spring.  He was 43, works in IT, plays in a band...no last name sharing but I looked up his band and got it.  Then looked him up on LinkedIn and confirmed his employment story, but also discovered that he was actually 53.  Sure, I'm a stalker, but he's a liar.  Nonetheless we chatted for a day or two on Tinder and then he gave me his cell so we could text.  We texted for a couple days more and then he spontaneously told me that he likes to clean his house in the nude.  And his buddies do, too.  (They talk about this?)  Please tell me you're using the manufacturer-supplied wand for the Swiffer duster.  And you don't clean en masse...  And yet I continued chatting with him because there's weirder stuff out there.    

Like this pig-man:

 And Barney:

And real-life Sid from Toy Story (note the firecrackers):

But soon Mr. Clean mysteriously disappeared like they all do, which is fine.  I probably wear too much to bed--or watching TV, or frying bacon, or, you know, normal stuff that people do with clothes on--anyway. 

Haircuts and sunblock

Oh, thank goodness.  I was growing so tired of the constant badgering from "offthecollarhedgefundmgr" and "emiratessheik71"...

Seriously, though, thanks for finding me on Zoosk, "longhairedredneck73," but I'm hoping that the noticeable absence of any profile photos of me with a freshly-killed turkey carcass, monster truck, or any small off-road vehicle being operated without a helmet has deterred you from taking the next step and sending a message.

But even Match.com with all of its sophisticated software doesn't pay attention to these things.  How this man was selected as one of my "Daily Matches" is beyond me.

I'll write a comment on your photo:  Consider posting a better photo.  Or buy a shirt.  Or perhaps cut down from a quarter-barrel to a six-pack per day.  I know I'm no pixie myself, but I'm also not walking around in one of my Dad's undershirts and calling it acceptable day wear.  Nor does my profile contain the keywords "COPS cameo" or "diabetes risk."  This is a matchtastrophy.

And don't think you're innocent in this, Tinder.  You've got your share of good ol' boys, too, like this one:

Enjoy it, shoot it, make a Marine question his decision to hand you that firearm.  I've got a gun, too--I just don't bring it to family picnics.

'Merica...land of mullets and home of certainly not enough available 40-something hedge fund managers.  

These are not the men you're looking for

With the busy holiday season, two trips, involvement in a couple big events, work and just life in general, I still haven't managed to see the new Star Wars flick.  But never fear, searching for a mate online is just as entertaining.

Did you know that there are 380 men on Match that include "Jedi" in their username?  And this is after I alphabetized them and removed any with the real name Jedidiah.  (I do accurate research, people.)

And look at the results on OKCupid who list "Jedi" as an interest.  And even more scary than five minutes in the closet with Emperor Palpatine is the number of men who list "Jedi Mind Tricks" as an interest.  That's like listing Quidditch and talking farm animals as interests.  Not.  Real.

Who are these people you ask?  Here's a smattering.  Note the tattoos.  And lightsabers.  And Yoda.

And what appears to be inappropriate activity with a cardboard wookie.

Speaking of wookies...

And this guy is full on:

I can think of 159 people who are totes jelly of this profile pic.

These guys would probably appreciate my CPAP since I look very similar to Princess Leia in The Empire Strikes Back when I go to sleep.  You know, when Han hides the Falcon in the mynock cave.

Oh God, why do I know she's in a mynock cave?  I know too much.  Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope...

New year, new man?

In a weak moment I re-upped with Match.com today.  I don't know why.  I'm a glutton for punishment.  I had $60 to blow.  I have buyer's remorse.

Right away I get this notification:

The one what?  The one to put me in his trunk?  The one to leave me in assorted trash bags along a mile of rural highway?  Kind of a hardened selfie there, chief.

He's probably a nice guy...Dateline reports that the young woman said to her friend shortly before she disappeared...sorry, sidebar.  But I figured out who he is.  He's the one (of many) that doesn't use capitals, punctuation or complete sentences...

His entire email:

And his profile:

I just can't escape these guys.  I stand a better chance escaping from a trunk.

Pretty sad

Here's a sampling of my inbox on OKCupid (click image to view larger):

Just once I'd like to get an email that starts out along the lines of "Hey, intelligent and multi-dimensional woman who seems like she would challenge me, how have you impacted the world today?"

Instead I get "Hi pretty."  Like a million times.

Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy being called pretty and beautiful by someone other than a family member or an old person at my church.  I just wish it was by someone who could form a complete sentence.  

Right.  I didn't respond because I was out getting help.  Did you know that there is such a thing as The National Grammar Hotline?  I hope they've got extra staff on duty because, man, am I sending them a gigabyte of referrals.

Also notice that he has taken a page from Chris' playbook:  if at first she doesn't reply, message, message again.  Almost. Every. Damn. Day.  (*Hypocritical use of incorrect capitalization and punctuation for emphasis only.)

At least Mike typed more than three words in the subsequent emails.  That extra effort certainly does make a girl stop and consider that she just might be missing out on something really great...which may or may not include four children:

One would assume that he'd know for sure.  Or the other kid sucks.

I also think I'm going to have to update my own profile to include punctuation as one of my six things.

And I may also add a "word of the day" feature in an effort to expand the vocabulary of potential suitors...such as:

syntax  [sin-taks]

noun

A.  the study of the rules for the formation of grammatical sentences in a language.

B.  the study of the patterns of formation of sentences and phrases from words.

objectify  [uh b-jek-tuh-fahy]

verb

to present as an object, especially of sight, touch, or other physical sense; make objective; externalize.

anchorite  [ang-kuh-rahyt]

noun

a person who has retired to a solitary place for a life of religious seclusion.

And maybe some synonyms for "pretty."

Only stalk if you're celery

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.  And again.  And then some more.  And maybe give it another shot.  And then one more time.  Ok, one more time after that.  Until you become a stalker.

This guy has been messaging me all year--March 6, April 28, July 8, October 19, November 11, November 12, later on November 12, yet again on November 12, November 17 and today.  I don't respond, but he keeps on trying.  Like a raccoon scratching at your patio door.  I would block him, but it provides entertainment.  And blog material.  But why don't I respond, you ask?  Well, aside from the poor capitalization, lack of punctuation, and cyber stalking, there's this:

Honored and creeped out as I am to be the object of your friend-with-benefits desire, let it be known that I already have lots of friends, I get benefits from work, and I am not an adulteress.  It's a thing with me...the Ten Commandments and all.  (There's a whole other post coming soon about that.)  

But the litany of messages...I mean come on.  The last one came up as I was taking a screen shot of his profile for this post.  Note the green circle next to his photo.  That means he's online.  So he saw that I was online and sent me a message.  Because, you know, today just might be the day that enough of my good-decision-making brain cells die and I message back.  I am on some good drugs for a foot injury, which I washed down this morning with a mimosa (on accident, seriously, I thought it was just OJ), and I did have a lot of anesthetic shot into my cheek for a filling, and have only eaten a 230-calorie Lean Cuisine all day, but even all of that has not clouded my judgement as I have a pretty good tolerance...but not for men like this.

Let me draw you a picture

The other day I matched with someone on Tinder and we chatted for a couple days.  I was pretty excited because he was actually kind of hot.  He was married for 15 years and is divorced (not a big deal)...because his wife left him for another woman (ouch).  Dude, that sucks.  But it opened up a chance for me.  We had a lot of things in common...love of travel, same college degrees, and we both do endurance events.  It was fun having a conversation with some substance.  So I asked if he was on Facebook so we could chat using a real keyboard rather than a smartphone and the Tinder app.  He immediately sent his name and I friend requested him.  He accepted.

And I found out he lives two rectangle states away (and is only here for work periodically throughout the year).

And has four kids (not a big deal since I don't have any).

And his ex-wife left him for the woman in a married couple with whom they were friends (awkward).

Now the ex and girlfriend live in his former house with his four kids and the other couple's one child.

And the girlfriend's ex-husband bought a house down the street from that house so he could be close to his child.

And this guy moved in with him.

But they're not together.  Just housemates.  He even sent me a diagram.

So the moms live as a couple in the one house with the five combined kids, and the dads live down the block in another house as roommates.  But the kids can come and go from either house as they please.

And they all spend their free time together.  Because, you know, they were friends before the whole switcharoo took place.

And he has posted professional family photos of all nine of them and calls the whole group his family and the extra child calls him "dad."

And while this is a great scenario for the kids to have both parents nearby and amicable, it's not a great a scenario for anyone wanting to date either of the ex-husbands.

Because while I appreciate the modern family, the idea of what is essentially a loosely organized commune in the Great West does not light my fire.

So back for more Tinder.