Me: "I don't want my lifeless body to be removed from the 'no-tell motel."
Him: "I can borrow a van, if that will make you feel more comfortable."
I guess that's what the phrase, "great sense of humor" meant in his bio. Unfortunately, this exchange occured during the phone call that followed his suggestion after our first meeting, when I declined his seductive invitation to "get a room."
I explained that the abnormal EKG I'd had the day after our "date" was something I couldn't ignore.
"There are worse ways to die," he replied.
So much for hurting his feelings.
I decided to try on-line dating after a friend, also in her late 50's, asked me to attend a "speed-dating event" with her. I wish I could have said, "I don't own anything with a faux leopard pattern, in silk, let alone polyester," but since I'd tired of explaining that the guy who was painting my front porch was a house-painter, not a new boyfriend, I subscribed to an on-line dating site.
I was completely honest and forthright in my bio. I knew better than to describe myself as a "good listener," or to admit I drink a glass of wine, alone, with dinner each night, so potential suitors received a paraphrased version of my professional resume. I included a photo, indicated I have progeny who don't live with me and characterized myself as a "liberal." I listed myself as "spiritual, but not religous," to deter fundamentalists.
One gentleman's email stated, "We're at opposite ends of the political spectrum, but there are worse things to overcome." Another said, "Have faith, sister. If Obama doesn't win, remember we lived through the Reagan administration and we'll have Hillary to look forward to in 2016."
My friend, who accepted that speed-dating at our age means we're cougars, reviewed the bios of those who came up as potential matches. They all lived thousands of miles away.
"Narrow down your search to within 50 miles," she suggested. I ignored her advice.
The computer program made that selection for me. "3x more likely to respond," accompanied the list of daily matches. The one that made me cry was the bio of an 85 year-old man who recently lost his wife of 64 years and his 'tag-line' read simply, "Help."
I honestly believe the abnormal EKG was my body's way of telling me that my date with the guy who offered to borrow a van for a romantic rendezvous was a bad idea.