Reluctantly disclosed by a long-divorced Left Coast lady. The lowest line here is that it's a very good thing I believe we're never too old to learn. And You great believe it too. Else we're all awash in deep doodoo! But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Or of the story that's due to unfold...
You might say I was among the expand guard of the "Personals" era. I began scouting for inherent partners when all there was was a skinny column in the daily newspaper or the weekly alternative. When you phrased your attributes and your wants within a exact 25-word parameter. Or else you paid extra. And there were no photos to eye. Ah but later in improvement of the movement there were voices to hear and the provider often offered the ability to cruise straight through all the many voice messages - at a rate of possibly a minute. So that recipe wasn't for the frugal, a group to which I belonged. So I would scout a few possibles and circle the ads, being just not to obliterate their identifying numbers. Then I would listen to each voice message and if the words or the manner or the tone was somehow pleasing, I would speak, referring to my identifying number. This was the forerunner of today's electronic wink/flirt/smile. But I'm skipping ahead...
After the change of a few identifying words whether the process halted due to disinterest on one or both sides. Or now came longer phone conversations and eventual meeting - that prominent first date. Of procedure my ad received its share of winks but it soon became apparent that those who sought me out were rarely the ones I would choose. This painful discovery was made over and over again: When the network-on-call guy spent 90% of our first meeting at a good bistro away on his cell dealing with problems at the office. When the 3-piece suiter spoke exactly 10 words while our meeting at a local cocktail lounge. And again when He turned out to be a real-life dwarf.
But oh my if that first date went well, as it did with a 6-8 giant who had suggested meeting at the carousel in a colse to park -- what a lovely idea -- and he seemed like a keen man who instantly knew me. A romantic greeting card arrived in my mail every day for the first two weeks of what soon became a hot and heavy romance. And he brought gifts of jewelry and stuffed animals and took me to nice restaurants, movies, walks in the park. In a concentrate months he proposed marriage. And for the first time in my life I was literally swept off my feet. Then he needed to borrow a microscopic money, not a lot and not for long so no big deal. But then the darling disappeared. And only then did I search for he had also cleaned out my savings account!
Well, readers, that palpate sobered me up, if not totaling souring me on the opposite sex, as I became complicated with police, courts, media and for some time stayed away from the Personals. I also sought counseling. But the urge to merge couldn't be stifled and by then the internet was replacing newspapers as the hunt recipe of choice. Again I was in the vanguard, thrilled to be able to wax eloquent in virtually unlimited verbiage about myself and my desires. And now we could add photos. This, along with the coming of digital cameras with self-operating timer, opened up a whole new line of reasoning as I created some alluring self-shot photos of myself. Oh and now there were personality tests to take and telling questions to give vent to wants and needs and wishes and dreams. I loved it all! Scouting the websites - which ones would search the sort of partner I desired? The private profiles - yes, now we called them profiles rather than "ads" -- how did other women portray themselves? And ogling photos of more men than I could dream on then free Match.com - what a turn-on!
Along the way of untold hours invested in the process, I industrialized a profile that I believed captured the true Me. But would it motion to those I wanted to attract? That was the huge demand mark when I posted that first (freebie) profile. Here my recollection may be faulty but as I remember I didn't hear from anybody. So I concocted my own criteria and often ran a "search" and made the preliminary contact. I also spread out to more than one Personals website - same profile, same photos.
Well, the principle of repetition works in advertising... One who made the first palpate did turn into more than a year of remarkable physicality that went all the way from nooners to all-night-longers and only screeched to a halt after a hideous two-day seminar of political left (me) vs political right (him). Yes, there were successes -- the best a tasty 4 year exclusive relationship, embers of which are still glowing. But I must confess that when he didn't come colse to for a few days or weeks I went back to surfing the Personals. And by then I was ready to pungle up hard cash for the privilege of uncovering (sometimes literally, as permissive websites unleashed the baser instincts) what then seemed to be treasure troves of available men. As you might imagine, the exact opposite proved to be true -- my preferred sort of guy was a scarce commodity. This meant that I tried ever harder to make silk purses out of... Well, you know.
So when one candidate told me he was a heart transplant inpatient and also was a no-show for our first meeting, I wasn't deterred. And later when he informed me by e-mail that he needed a kidney transplant and was to go on dialysis, I persevered. After all, he was interesting, cute, maybe telling the truth and I still wanted to meet him! It was only a therapist's admonition to repeat the mantra, "What's in it for me?" "What's in it for me?" that I finally quit this game.
I soon found that my urban area had fewer of my chosen kind of guy than places quite far afield. And these long-distance situations often came with difficulties. Such as the soft-spoken retired government employee bent on turning into a poet 100-plus miles away. After e-mails and a concentrate long phone conversations he wanted to come to my city. Instead, I suggested my usual -- meeting at a group place such as a comfortable bistro halfway in the middle of his home and mine so neither of us would have to drive too far. A occasion of silence and then he asked, "Drive?"
When I asked what the demand meant I could not believe my ears as he explained that he planned to take a Greyhound and stay with me as his car had just been stolen and he had no assurance to replace it. Well, dear readers, I'm proud to say that this time it didn't take a therapist for me to run not walk to the fastest exit line! Oh, there was one infamous locally-based experience. He was a persistent much younger man who initially contacted me, became quite attentive, sent endearing text messages while the day at work. And every time we met came on like some sex-starved soul. In fact, we were coupling the night before I had major surgery. Only afterward came a final text message, "Don't palpate me anymore as I have a woman." Whew, talk about a kick in the gut...
Over time I vast my inherent shop by posting my profile on as many as ten Personals websites. But those who sent me flirts or winks or smiles were often far off. Oh yes, I heard from men not only from America's sea to shining sea but from such places as Afghanistan, Algeria, Canada, France, Germany, Ghana, Italy, Poland, Tunisia, Senegal, Nigeria - you name it. Now Mister Ghana, that's a story for all-time...
I won't belabor the details but suffice it to say that he immediately professed undying love. Red flag, red flag! And then he spun a keen tale of managing the "gold commerce of Ghana" and owning millions in gold nuggets for which he had a buyer but needed cash so the bank would publish his cache. He only needed 0,000 - "Aren't all Us women rich?" Buh-bye, Lawrence Yeboah!
Altogether in my 15-year history with the Personals the best I can outline is that I have:
o Browsed profiles/photos of several 1000 men
o Rebuffed preliminary palpate by possibly 200
o Responded to preliminary palpate by 75
o Initiated palpate with possibly 100
o Been rebuffed by 80
o Communicated with 50
o Talked by phone with 25
o Met in man with 22
o Rejected or been rejected by 12
o Briefly dated 10
o Long term association with 3
I can't say how my numbers correlate with yours but they are worth considering. Despite some evidence to the contrary, I like to think I am able to detect compatibility. So over time I industrialized the wording of a profile that presents in an upbeat way just who I am and who I want to attract as a longterm partner. Unstated but implied is that recreational sex is not for me and rabid Republicanism is a deal-breaker. At the e-mail stage I facilely share my status and my take on life, tossing out open-ended questions to draw out my correspondent. And, as you can see from the list above, many potentials never ever get to the phone stage, let alone a personal meeting.
But now, get ready for a shocker, as I want you to know that all of this has happened to me past the age of 50! But get this - I believe that today's 50 is the new 30, 60 the new 40 & 70 the new 50! Of procedure that's presuming we have our health, the very most prominent factor in a joyous outlook and a satisfying life. Oh yes I can count the ways that budding romances have wilted, that situations with inherent have fizzled, that desirables have vanished. But I'm living proof that nobody should ever throw in the towel.
So what if today I'm largely flying solo? regularly checking in with a few selection websites, running searches, sending flirts or full blown messages to those who appeal. But nowhere close to a day-in/day-out relationship. That is, unless the tasty longterm are coaxed into flame again. Or if maybe (I hope, I hope) my interest in a yummy man I met this week is reciprocated.
Stay tuned.
Thanks To : New Get Order Step BuyDway Game 69 pictures of hearts
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