A friend persuaded me that ‘everyone does it’. That may be true, but maybe honesty – and self-worth – are better policies
www.theguardian.com
“Everyone over 50 lies about their age on dating apps, plus you don’t look 53.” I never should have listened to Helen. We’re best friends and I love her, but we’re polar opposites.
“You deserve a little action, Shanti; you’ve been through a lot.” She was right, but pretending to be 42, what the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t.
But wait?! I thought that nobody is entitled to sex and that nobody deseves or is owed it
.
I blame Helen – she lured me in with her blissful dating stories of tapas and Spanish wine, seaside bungalows and sunset hikes. Ugh. Whatever golden dating algorithm she fell into should be cast in bronze and preserved in a museum.
Mine, on the other hand, was an unfortunate spectacle of basement dwellers and commitment-phobes. Fur-clad unicyclists at Burning Man and swollen gym devotees in muscle tees, posing with Vegas showgirls and freshly caught marlin. What horny “genius” sent out the memo that dead fish are a selling point? And don’t even get me started on bathroom selfies. Gross.
JFL
. A 53-year-old, post menopausal, "post wall" (jfl) as the
copers would say, and she still feels like she's too good for the vast majority of her matches. And I'm not even really going to point out that, of course, she's obviously talking about the guys that matched with her and were down to fuck her already, instead of guys she was about to swipe on. No matter how old, obese, autistic, whatever, all women
always have multiple men down to fuck them, and can
never experience even 0.0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000001% of what we go through every day of our lives.
I was seconds away from deleting Tinder when his profile appeared like a phoenix rising from my dating cesspool: “Josh. Single, San Francisco. Chef. 38.”
Now, three months into our newly minted morning routine – sex, tea, toast, shower, coffee – we’re post-sex and pre-toast on a lazy Sunday morning when – bam! – the honeymoon phase hits an iceberg.
“You haven’t had your period since we met. What’s up with that?”
“You don’t think you’re preg …”
He has no idea how not pregnant I am.
Well, it was fun while it lasted.
Heart racing and palms clammy, I blurt it out, “I’m 52!”
“Aren’t you 53?”
What the?!
“You were born in 1969, right? That would make you 53.” Josh knew my age all along. “Duh, Shanti, Google.”
“And you still thought I was pregnant, at 53?”
“Menopause wasn’t on my radar, plus I figured you’d confess when you were ready.” Having never dated anyone my age, he had no experience with menopause symptoms.
JFL
. Just fucking lol
. While we are told to improve our personalities and that we are incel because we are stupid, uninteresting, boring and whatever, roasties are out there fucking guys so stupid and low-IQ that, at almost 40, those guys are still so completely clueless about how the world in general and human anatomy in particular works, that they believe that they can impregnate 53-year-olds
, and need to be explained that it's not possible
.
