One would think that an individual’s profile is the heart and soul of any online dating site. That’s where the personality, history, desires, and physical attributes of a man or woman seeking their soul mate would come shining through.  But that’s not necessarily what happens.

Allow me to explain.

I was introduced to online dating not long before my daughter suggested I give it a try. Last January, I joined a girls’ weekend at Canyon Ranch in Lenox, MA. My friend Alice gathered together a group of eight women for a three-day spa getaway.  One of them, Veronica, had been Alice’s college roommate. Veronica never married. She had a great career and lived for online dating. When she wasn’t on the phone with her office, in an exercise class, soaking in the spa jacuzzi, or getting a massage, she was swiping through potential targets on her phone’s dating app. I must say, Veronica was a plastic surgeon’s dream. No question, she was beautiful. But nothing moved. Not her forehead. Not her lips. Not her breasts. And her butt…well, that was museum quality. It was round, firm, and fully packed, as they say. I know. I was naked in the jacuzzi with the other seven women in our group.

“Have you ever met anyone who you truly connected with?” I asked Veronica  one evening as we congregated in the Ranch’s library waiting for our dining table to be ready. She was rhythmically swiping her index finger across the face of her cell phone as consistently as a cow’s tail swipes at flies on a hot summer day.

“Yes,” she replied. “Actually, I had one long-term relationship that just recently ended.”

“May I ask how old he was?” I’d begun noticing couples enjoying their time at the spa and was beginning to think maybe it would be nice to have a man in my life again.

“He was 27,” she answered, still swiping.

Oh my god. I’d feel like a pervert dating a 27-year-old man. I stopped asking questions for a bit, then got curious again. I do have trouble keeping my mouth shut.

“When you created an online profile, did you put down your real age?

She gave me a hard look, then decided I wasn’t being mean—just curious.

“Forty,” she replied, then went back to swiping.

“How long did the relationship last?” I asked, knowing I was pushing the envelope but unable to resist.

“Until it didn’t.”  That was the end of the question-and- answer session. We proceeded into the dining room.

Veronica gave me a lot of insight into what goes on in online dating. I knew right from the get-go the adage all that glitters is not gold would apply.  The information I read about on the dating site wouldn’t always be the truth. Men lie. Women lie.

So…should I lie?

Although I’m in pretty good shape and don’t feel like I’m 67, the truth is, I am. And I don’t want to get caught fibbing about it. Veronica admitted that her lover never knew she was in her sixties. Things must have become dicey when he wanted her to hang out with him and his friends. I cannot imagine. So, I entered my age as 67. Then, I indicated I was seeking men 65-75-years-old.  My initial thought process was to find a classy, distinguished, well-educated man—maybe one with a doctorate.  I imagined intellectual conversations and in-depth book discussions. But who was I kidding? That’s not me. I can be very silly and very immature. I grew up in a family of all boys and we laughed at a lot of inappropriate things. Like farts. I still laugh about them. My warped sense of humor could be a real deal breaker for a serious, mature gentleman. But I was not confident enough to expect a younger man to be interested in me.

I completed my online profile, but not without hesitation regarding one question.  Why was there a place to indicate how you felt about having children? The response had to be one of the following:

Yes, at some point;

Maybe in the future;

No, not for me.

I chose “No, not for me.”  Fat chance of anything like that happening. I wondered, however, why a question like that would be on a seniors’ questionnaire.

  It took less than an hour for the email alerts to start chiming.  My mailbox was brimming with suitors.  Like fish to a chum line, multiple men sent smiles, winks, and sometimes a message.  This is so much fun, I thought. But the thrill was short lived. These guys were the trollers. They have nothing more to do in their retirement than troll through sites seeking women who have recently jumped into the on-line dating pool.  Their profiles didn’t have a photo. Their backgrounds didn’t match what I was looking for. They just got their jollies sending smiley faces to newbies.

My newly acquired understanding of online dating was not very uplifting nor encouraging.

Actually, it sucked.

Have no fear. I don’t give up easily. I found that once you know how to maneuver in the game, you can play the field. If you don’t take things too seriously, that can be quite entertaining. Come back soon to see how it’s done. Never get mad. But definitely get even.

© Miriam Greenberg, and the blog Love In The Time Of Corona, beginning April 2022 to the Present. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Miriam Greenberg and Love In The Time Of Corona with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.