“First of all, I am way too old for you, so forget about you and me . . . ”

I oughtta have that tattooed on my forehead by now . . .

I am an honest guy (honestly), and seeing as how honesty is important to you, I’d say I’m in the right general neighborhood, even though the games are going on at entirely different ballfields. I really am too old . . . *really.* I mean, twenty seven is the top edge of yer age range, right? So who am I kidding? Moreover, why am I even bothering to write you?

That’s a very good question . . . I’m wondering myself, and hoping that I can answer the question for both of our sakes.

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Twenty seven was a “great year” for me the first time around. No, honestly, it was a MOMENTOUS year. I had just recently turned twenty seven when I began dating someone whom I thought would end up spending a long time with me (she did.) For a couple of years prior to that I was aimless, drifting in a sea of possible amour, less interested in actively seeking someone new than frantically desperate for something sane, and with my head still ringing from the first go-around; I was a veritable flyweight recovering from a one-round bout with Smokin’ Joe Frazier.

I was a virgin ‘til age twenty five.

A good Catholic? “monster shy?” I still don’t know, but dumb luck struck in the form of a chance encounter at the Quickie Mart (the name here has been changed so as not to indict the Innocent.) I can’t recall much from the experience, apart from the fact that my first girlfriend was very nearly my last (a virgin at eighteen is a rarity, but a virgin at twenty five was then and is now a crime against God and all his Creation.)

The second time around was a bit more . . . deliberate? I didn’t want to rush into anything, but nor did I want to keep chasing the girls off anymore, either, for in the two years that passed between Girl 1 and Girl 2 there were innumerable opportunities to date at least casually (these days I think kids “hook up” a good more, but I could be wrong, as I’ve been out of circulation for a good ten years) and the fact is, for the first time in my life, the girls were *finally* beginning to notice me! Yep, at age twenty seven (and an aspiring fifth year Senior at the U) I had only then begun to fit the “it” look of the day. Grunge had recently passed, but I was already way, way into the Retro look of vintage sport coats, bowling shirts, and Tiki couture. I was also a Club Kid, attending as many concerts each week as possible, be it Techno, Metal, a band from the burgeoning Goth scene, or just plain pop-punk from my old friends ALL, now hailing from Fort Collins.

So the opportunities were there. I was ready. She was ready. Everything seemed to fall into place perfectly . . .

But it wasn’t perfect.

What complicated matters was the fact that my mother was dying of cancer at the time, and to describe the complexity of the situation here would require more words (and more characters and more typing) than even my own penchant for late-night communiqué will allow. Suffice it to say that I felt that the time was right to settle down, to leave my dying mother with the impression that I was finally moving in the right direction, growing up and taking responsibility for my own life. I’d never have this chance again! Girl 2 had everything I was looking for (and a bit more that I was probably not ready for, looking back in hindsight) so how could I fail to at least try?

Well, try I did, but what complicated matters was the fact that there was a Girl 3 in there somewhere. Ten years after the fact I remember less of this than I remember from the Girl 1 Saga (starring “Jenny” from Quickie Mart as the Ex), and yet the Girl 3 Saga left its own, more lasting effects when Best Friend B came along a while later and wooed her right out from under me. Prior to that, I thought that I had a good chance at a long-term relationship with either Girl 2 or Girl 3, but couldn't really decide on either. The clincher was that both my Mother and Grandmother had met Girl 2.

My mother passed within a month of this meeting - my Grandmother shortly thereafter.

As a Catholic I shouldn't have to explain the concept of “Catholic Guilt” to you (right?)

Girl 2 and I were together for five years. Traveled together. Moved around the country together. Loved and hated our jobs together.

And then we went our separate ways.

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I’d like to say that we remained friends afterwards, but that would be akin to tacking a fairy-tale ending onto the final, critical scene in Star Wars: Episode Three - you know the scene? Where Vader shouts “NOOOOOO!!!” and goes all Frankenstein’s monster?

I’ve lived the past five years as a virtual shut-in from the dating scene, far from the world of Pretty Young Things (A), and making no effort at all. But I attainted Saintly Bachelorhood gracelessly, whilst throwing swingin’ keg parties at my chillin’ bachelor’s pad Above the Bar, attended by more wild women (and crazy, mixed-up bachelors like myself) than I ever thought possible. The problem was not only that I never did meet anyone crazy enough to fall for a guy like me, but more to the point? I *still* wasn’t ready to start dating again.

I spent the next couple of years diving headlong into a new career, coupled with a diversion or two into old hobbies along the way. A lot of this career and hobby-oriented work involved plenty of emailing and surfing the web, and this was years before the advent of Firefox and Adblocker. As such I ran across ads for online dating services, too many ads to count . . . and the pop-ups, oy veh! I finally caved in out of sheer irritation and a sense of reckless adventure – why not look for a date online?

Well, for one thing it isn’t at all traditional, and I am a fairly traditional person. For another thing? I was not ready to date again . . . three years later I am STILL not ready!

But out of a sense of curiosity (what do women want? Hell, what do *I* want?) I soldiered on, joining a dozen dating services before stepping back to survey the damage.

So . . . three years later have I learned anything other than what I knew to begin with?

I know that women are still basically the same overall, and that is to say that they are really no different than men. Oh sure, we like to THINK that there is such a great and readily-definable set of differences between the genders, and yet when you get down to it these differences can be set on a shelf like a fossil or artifact from a culturally less-enlightened time.

Finally, what have I learned after three years of scouring the online-dating profiles?

1. Men are dogs.

Who cares? A great many women are drawn to “bad boys”, and there are just as many women who aspire to be “bad girls” these days (has it ever really been any different?) If you steer clear of the Dog Pound (no matter how sad and lonely the look in their eyes) you will soon begin to differentiate between those who are in it for the long haul and those who aren’t.

2. All women are Gold Diggers.

Nonsense. Everyone is out for themselves and always has been. Men are equally guilty of looking for a free ride whenever they find it, and I don’t have to explain the pun. The thing is, nobody really needs to be a gold digger nowadays and nobody needs to be the Gold Mine, either. Men and women seem to be on an increasingly-level economic playing field, which brings me to the next point . . .

3. Keep a poker face handy at all possible times – and learn some Texas Hold ‘Em

If I’m reading my own cards (and the profiles I’ve encountered) right, women are plenty savvy to the internet dating gambit these days. As many have been burned online as have been by the bar scene or the Blind Date Toad syndrome, and they’ve learned a few tricks to help keep wanna-be bread-winners, sugar daddies, and Players at bay. Either that or medical secretaries really DO make high six-figure salaries these days.

4. Kids are fine, unless you’re Mike and Carol Brady, in which case they’re GREAT!

Just like Tony the Tiger said, right? Children from another marriage are a tough hurdle for many bachelors, yet with the prevalence of divorce who doesn’t have kids by the time they hit thirty? Plenty of men can leap this so-called hurdle, and a great many have already fathered children. Whether they are a good father or not? That requires more on-site inspection. But by the same token how is that lady as a mom? These are but two of the many dimensions to the realm of online dating.

5. Flexibility and Honesty are key.

If you’re an intransigent bum, a shifty snake-oil salesman, or an intolerant person in general, you’re in for a tough ride. Men have for a long time been characterized as no-good down and dirty dogs, and women these days are very up front about the importance of honesty. The same holds true of the need for flexibility (and I ain’t talkin’ Yoga, here.) With two busy, working individuals (and children and existing family obligations as well) it becomes more and more difficult to find someone who fits your pre-existing lifestyle. If he or she can’t bend a bit to try and conform, chances are it won’t happen for ya, at least not in the long run. Do I even need to mention Understanding?

Ultimately I’ve learned that women today are a lot more open about what they want in a relationship. As a means of making their needs known, the realm of online dating has made for an excellent forum and sounding-board.

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At any rate, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Your profile struck me as exceptional for several reasons and I just wanted to pass along this note to tell you as much . . . that's all. I realize my own limitations, faults . . . even the odd strength I might have here and there,but as a single man with very little to offer a single woman of any age (again, I am too old, too poor, and too stuck-in-his ways to really even think about dating) I must now say goodnight, good luck, and pleasant dreams.

And by the way, yes, you are the spitting-image of Girl #2. Go figure.

A) Actually I still live on campus, so there are an abundance of pretty young things. But as an older man with nothing to offer there is simply no point in paying attention to them. I have become what a friend referred to as a “rock and roll Scene Monk.”