Then I woke up from my divorce trauma hibernation. Deciding it would be nice to connect with someone again, I pondered my options. The online thing was something that flourished during my marriage so I was clueless regarding who-what-how-why. I remember personal ads in the back of Washingtonian magazine years ago and I simply figured it was a venue for losers. Sorry.
It’s one thing to hit your neighborhood bar with your wingmen in your twenties and meet girls. It’s quite another when you are a divorced father of a little-one and your schedule is anything but easy and flexible. Plus, I’ve never been the bar cruiser kind of guy. Then someone suggested the online venue.
I don’t currently have a reason have an online personal ad but my experiences doing so are generally more positive than not. You can discover really nice, smart, fun, decent people who are essentially seeking the same things. But there are pitfalls and the horror stories from this venue are usually told by women about their experiences with men. I’ve heard some doozies and regretfully, am not surprised by the predatory behavior of my knuckle dragging gender. So yes, it’s probably an easier venue for guys. And women do need to be extra vigilant in how they manage their internet dating activities.
Which brings me to the motivation for this story. I’ve seen thousands of personal ads by now and while I’d never purport to offer assistance regarding what women should write in their profiles, I do have a word or two regarding your photos. All of the snaps that I’ve posted in this story are from online dating profiles that I’ve gandered.
You already know this but let me remind you…again. Guys are visual. Guys ogle. Just because ADG happens to read and enjoy words doesn’t mean that all guys are going to read every word of your profile. If you refer to yourself as “classy”…use “party” as a verb…tell me that you “love Vegas”…then I’m not gonna be contacting you but again, I’m probably not your type of guy anyway. I’m not suggesting you remove those words from your profile. Chances are you’ll like some of the idiots who get turned on by those declarations and you’ll have a great time…in the heart shaped hot tub…in your room…partying…in Vegas. Classy. I did get a chuckle out of reading this profile line a while ago amidst harvesting pictures for this post… “I've never started a sentence with... "my friends describe me as," and I don't wear sweatpants with "juicy" written on the ass….” Now that’s my kind of gal.
So let’s talk pictures and please, let me help you…
Helmets are bad. Your profile reflects a woman of substance and eclectic interests. There’s plenty to pique a man’s interest therein. But then you had to go and put the damn helmet photo in the lineup.Never forget what a helmet photo did for Michael Dukakis.
What the flip were you thinking? Every guy surely, would like to spend a Saturday at one of those driving experience schools. We're glad you had a big time last Saturday but you look like Atom Ant's Aunt.
You are otherwise stunning. Your profile story and other pictures are great. But a helmet and a hat...who told you this was ok to post on match.com? Off with it. Now.
Even with the jaunty tilt that you and your son are manifesting, this coal miner's daughter thang ain't working.
And it's not just helmets. Your other photos compensate for this one, Missy. You are smart, cute and well written/spoken. But I ain't the Frito F_ _ _ing Bandito.
I realize that you are teaching kids the merits of wearing helmets. LFG and I think your efforts are more than honorable. But what possessed you to believe that this was a good photo for your digital romance efforts? The dog emailed me and threatened to litigate if I didn't black patch his eyes too.
Swim with 'em. LFG did and her photo is priceless. But she was six years old. You honey chile, are gonna have to brush your teeth before you and I do any knacker nibblin'. And look what the salt water did to your highlights.
I’ve never been to Egypt, or Syria, or Jordan or anywhere else in either North Africa or the Middle East where tourists acquire photos astride camels. I’m sure if I did, I’d be first in line to get my souvenir snapshot…ADG commanding the phlegm flinging dromedarial tourist trappist. But please girls, nobody looks comfortable on a camel. Butcept maybe the natives and maybe some of the old boys in the camel corps of decades past. It’s hard to visualize you on my camel colored sofa after seeing your nervous ass tentatively perched…camelistically. And what did I tell you about helmets?
Here's Trixie...just before Stumpy blew a wad of snot on her. The camel photo opp is the anti-elegant converse to the beauty and artistry of a woman astride a show jumper…gracefully…mid-air with jodhpurs painted on those athletic quads and hacking jacket topping off the athletic commandress of horseflesh. The airborne equestriennesque beauty of equine and feminine forms. Damn.
So double up on your show jumping shots and dump the camel snaps ok?
May I approach a touchy subject? Breasts. The woman above, at least to me, is beautiful in so many ways. She is confident and sexy. Appropriately provocative in a halter assemblage that says "I don't need plastic orbs to feel like a woman". Now for the rest of you....I know that you saved forever to get the dosh for your implants. I respect the self discipline you displayed when you opted to save another year for them instead of financing your siliconalia at 18% interest. Suze Orman and I are both thrilled. I also know firsthand that there are women who look and feel so much better as a result of having moderately sized augmentation.
But why, just because they told you the costs for augmentation were the same, regardless of implant size, did you get those absurd things? Are you sure you should be on a dating site? I understand there are sites devoted exclusively to the hooker trade.
You are fifty years old. Happy I know, to be back out in the singles scene. But please. This is the very reason I avoid theme parties and costume centric gatherings. It ain’t pretty.
Your profile states that you teach Sunday School. Ok...but let this be a lesson for all women when they post pictures to complement their dating profile. This shot promises that every freak out there with a boot-foot fetish will barrage your inbox with poorly contrived, drooling rhetoric, offering to rock your world. So if that’s whatcha want…
The Charlie’s Angels pose has been done. And done. And done. It was cute. In 2003. Now come and sit in my damn lap.
And let me offer a perspective on posting bathing suit shots. This woman is forty three years old. Stunning is an understatement. But if you post this type of photo, don’t get pissed off when you receive three hundred emails a day from guys that want to bed you. It’s gonna happen. My female friends forward me emails from guys who are going for broke in their attempt to see and touch this flesh in situ. Seems a bit contradictory for women to have a photo similar to this one and have an all caps bolded headline that says “LOVE ME FOR ME AND NOT MY BODY—IF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR A HOOKUP, MOVE ON”. No...I’m looking to join your damn book club. On “naked night” only though.
We know that you are a pretty good amateur photographer. There are hobby sites just for that purpose. When a guy sees a profile that says “16 photos” they generally think “nice” as they prepare for the visual treat associated with perusing said profile.
Gotta tell you girls, when fourteen of the photos are fine-art efforts, the guys who are gonna contact you probably still live with mama. If that’s what you’re looking for, then skip this morsel of advice.
And finally, take my Tweetsie Railroad souvenir vest off. Put some fifty year old woman appropriate clothes on and repost your pictures. You are confused about what it really takes to earn the interest of a man for any connection beyond a one nighter. I can appreciate the discombobulation since this is your initial dating foray after a twenty four year marriage. Your confidence is shaky and you think that if you show us from the get-go that your body is still hot, we’ll be patient and get to know you for you—realizing that your physicality is part of the total package that we—all of us guys want. Trust me when I tell you that you’re headed for a Tweetsie train wreck right out of the post twenty four year marriage station. If all you want to do is get laid, save your match.com money and simply wear that rig to the grocery store. That would be the Giant grocery store in Old Town Alexandria…4:15 pm tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have my coon skin cap on.
Sorry girls but most guys except me are still good old knuckle dragging hard heads who need little encouragement to misread your intentions. Make sure your pictures overstate...redundantly who you are and what you really want. Otherwise this whole online love connection effort of yours is gonna be trouble. Chances are that your accompanying words are gonna pale in comparison to your visual assertions.
Onward…from Dallas…but coon skinning it over to the Giant tomorrow.