SIGNING UP FOR A NEW DATING SITE (OH, WHAT FUN!)

For a long, loooong time, I’ve been on two “respectable” dating sites. By respectable, it’s a low bar. I mean they don’t allow you to post selfies that shows dicks and butts. (That’s my assumption. I haven’t tried. I haven’t seen them on anyone’s profile. Maybe I have an uncanny sense of only being curious about “respectable” guys.) I can’t bash these websites. They have features that annoy me, but it’s not their fault that I’m still single. I’m sure I can come up with a list of other things to blame.

 

COVID has made it convenient, even justifiable, for me to say I can’t just go out there and meet guys IRL, aka, in the real world.[1] More than ever, online searching is a reasonable, responsible option. 

 

I gave up on match.com long ago after it seemed there were only five or six gay men from Vancouver on that site…and the one I met in person promptly fled to Edmonton. (I’ll have to make another list of things to blame for that.) Plenty of Fish has been overfished and the stock was never replenished. OkCupid seems to have gone the way of match.com. 

 

Did everyone but me find someone?! 

 

It’s not really a resolution, but I’ve decided to try some other dating sites. Maybe three. I question my motives. Am I really trying or am I just looking for blog fodder? Nonetheless, on Saturday night while taking breaks from having a rowdy time doing laundry—putting shoes in the dryer makes it exciting; I almost wanted my neighbor to call the police for a noise disturbance—I went online to sign up on my first new dating site. I’d heard about the site before, yet I’d resisted recognizing that it might be a suitable site. It’s called Silver Singles. It’s for people over fifty. And, yes, my driver’s license, birth certificate and passport all confirm that I qualify, even if I made a mess trying to white out the incriminating evidence.

 

What follows are my stream of consciousness thoughts while I navigated the website: 

 

Site found: Silver Singles

 

Click to sign up.

 

First screen. Decision time.

I am a Woman / Man

Seeking a Woman / Man

 

Hmm. None of that nonbinary stuff. We’re over fifty. Presumably, we don’t get that.

 

Email and password selection. God, another damn password. I’ve used up the name of every actress who ever played a Desperate Housewife and, no, as easy as it would be to remember, I’m not including 69 as the requisite number. I’m gay. If anyone wants to crack my account, that’s gotta be the first try.

 

I’m welcomed! I think the site is trying to teach me handy social skills because the welcome comes in the form of, “Nice to meet you,” followed by, “We are excited to get to know you and brainwash into buying a Premium membership for twelve months at the REDUCED RATE of only $37.95 per month.” It doesn’t actually say that last part. That’ll come after I spend all that time filling things out. The monthly rate is based on a year’s membership. This is going to cost $455.40! Apparently when your over fifty and single, they take you for desperate. Premium sounds hopeful. Premium will get it done. And Premium will cost you. Natch.

 

But then they’re already having doubts about me:

            Please confirm your gender:

            Female / Male

It’s like a trick. They switched from Woman and Man. 

Still nothing for Nonbinary. Not even a 1 to 5 scale on how manly I am. 

 

            Please confirm the gender of your 

            desired partner:

            Female / Male

I suppose we older folder folks are prone to clicking the wrong item sometimes, especially when we pretend we don’t need our reading glasses, which we damn well know we do. If only we could remember where we put them. I did find my keys in the freezer. At last! I’ve been stuck at home for three days.

 

But I do appreciate that I have to confirm I’m a Man seeking a Man. Maybe this whole confirmation business only comes when a newbie indicates a same-sex interest. 

Are you sure? You grew up knowing how much easier it is to pass for straight.

            This might get mucky.

 

But mucky, my dear Silver Singles administrator, is when I have to look at profiles of eighty-something women seeking a male provider whom they can bake for. Good god, no. If I want a lemon loaf, I’ll buy a nicely wrapped one with pesky, tooth-dwelling poppy seeds at Safeway. 

 

Man.

Seeking Man.

 

Male.

Seeking Male.

 

Yes, I meant to do that.

 

I click on and discover this is a highly reputable dating site as I skim the options for answering, “What is your marital status?” Open relationship is not there. (Are they still trying to weed out the gays?) With a twinge of shame, I select, “I have never been married” but regain a sense of superiority as I notice none of the options, though written as sentences, end in a period. Ha! I take my shame and cast it back upon you. BOOM! (Or, if you will, BOOMERANG.)

 

Next up: level of education. I am shocked that the first option is “No Education”. Um, what? None? I’m suddenly doubting this $37.95 a month investment. There may be some truth to that saying, “All I really needed to know I learned in kindergarten,” but there may be some Silver Singles that never got that far. No finger painting. No dress-up center. No blocks. (Okay, I never got any of my own block experiences because Mrs. Brown couldn’t pull me away from the dress-up center but still…)

 

Fingerpainting. How do you get to plus-fifty without ever using your index finger and thumb to smear a sheet of butcher paper tacked to an miniature plastic easel with swirls of red, blue and yellow which, when you’re done, you tell Mrs. Brown is a picture of a shark eating a princess so the prince can hang with the knight? 

 

My fingerpainting days were short-lived. Mrs. Brown moved me to the macaroni art table. But technically I do have fingerpainting experience, unlike Mr. No Education.

 

The next education option is Middle School. 

 

What the hell I’m I getting myself into?

 

What follows are questions about height and some picture selections about what resonates most with me. Picture of a messy desk, some in-betweens and then a desk with a keyboard but no laptop and not much else. Is this a pretend computer device? I’m so tempted to pick that one since stone tablet is not pictured.

 

Ethnicity. Mine and then:

“Which ethnic groups should your partner 

suggestions belong to?” 

Options: I don’t mind, Caucasian, 

First Nation / Inuit / Métis, 

Asian, Indian, African Descent, 

Latin American, Other. 

I could quibble about the terminology to be all politically correct, but I’m too fascinated about “Other.” Does that include Zombie? Extraterrestrial? Muppet? 

 

Of course, I pick “I don’t mind.” Why limit things? I start to think about how my coffee date will go with zombie Super Grover.

 

Next up is another shame Q: 

“How satisfied 

are you with 

your appearance?” 

Again, I divert my shame, instead fake gagging as I think of the guy who opts for “Very much so.” To be clear, I don’t want to date a social media influencer who posts daily gym selfies. How do I filter him out?

 

I’m being serious.

 

Religion comes next. Good god. I’m the type of person who types the previous sentence and only capitalizes the first letter of the sentence. Figure it out. I feel like I’ve just stepped into an open manhole. (I did that once. Honest. While jogging in the pitch black on a road under construction while in college in Fort Worth, Texas. I didn’t want anyone to see me exercising. There you go. You can guess how I answered the feelings-about-my-appearance question, too.)

 

Moving on…

 

“Which role would you like a partner to fulfill the most?” 

Gasp! “Dreamy lover” is one of the choices. What over-fifty person says that? 

 

Okay, this dating site might work for me.

 

Blah, blah, pick, pick. Another picture question to give me and the “No Education” folks a much-needed reading break. 

 

“If your partner suggests a shared calendar to align both your activities, 

how would you feel?” 

“Ew” is not one of the options. There is no “Other.” There isn’t even, “I don’t believe in calendars. They only underscore the fact I’ve got nothing going on. Ever. That’s why I’m answering these dating site questions at 8:37 on a Saturday night.”

 

More blah. Really, at this point, I just want to click through so I can meet zombie Super Grover.

 

And then, at last: 

“Well done! You finished the personality test.”

 

Is that what that was? Is it shared with the government? Have I been red-flagged? Was a personality even detected?

 

Breathe. The following sentence states, “We will match you with compatible members every day.” Every day? What the hell is their standard for compatibility. How many guys with no education who feel very much satisfied with their appearance are going to pop up? My dreamy lover might not be suggested until November. That’s a lot of $37.95 monthly payments. 

 

Dammit. They’ve got me.

 

 

 

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[1] IMHO, we may one day have ways of shortening every somewhat commonly used phrase. TBH, I hope to be dead before then.