Online Dating? Not for Me.



Terri Connett

I haven’t been on a date in two years. Maybe three. I do miss the good bits of being in a relationship, so after some encouragement from friends, I joined OurTime – the online dating site for the over-50 crowd. What a relief, I thought, to jump into a dating pool with mature men who were looking for mature women. I wrote an honest profile, posted a few pics and plunked down $29.99. Maybe I’d meet somebody. Or at the very least, I’d have fodder for a column.

I could write three.

Let’s start with that misguided concept of maturity. The user names of men who viewed my profile included: mesohorny, stiff123, dirtyoldfart, nipplelvr, elatedcobra and cunnilinger. These boys needed an OurTimeOut. I’m just thankful the site utilizes a time delay photo filter so all those wrinkled private parts never got a chance to scald my eyeballs.

Many of them put little to no effort in choosing their profile pictures. My favorite was the scowling selfie of a big, dirty man wearing a dingy, stretched out T-shirt. I actually think he bought a new shirt at WalMart earlier that day, got home, tried it on, found it too small and said "Screw it, I’m not gonna change for anybody!"

All profiles began by asking the men to tell "a little about me." Their answers ranged from sad to funny to…Really? A few choice ones:

"I seldom leave home."

"I need to lose a lot of weight before getting involved."

"During my spare time I go out for lunch at a buffet in the afternoon."

"I like to eat in or out." (That pretty much covers it)

"I’m cool and handsome."

"I like to go hunting and would like a woman that’s not afraid to go into the woods just to set and talk."

No. No hunting. No setting. No talking. Run ladies run!

The second half of the profile asked "about the one I’m looking for." Some of the answers gave insight into past lives I was not eager to explore:

"Someone who doesn’t have anger management issues."

"Doesn’t need hours getting ready."

"Someone who listens to me."

"A woman who thinks before talking."

A few answered this question very specifically:

"Someone who doesn’t get hungry at 8. Must love Sinatra."

"Blonde hair wearing something lacy."

"Please like sex."

And one 67-year-old man with a mullet asked for "Someone who can work a flip phone and VCR."

Of course he did.

I got a lot of flirts from the "Who Would Jesus Do?" congregation. Their saintly profiles were all about serving their Lord and looking for church-going, Christian women. In my profile I specified I was not religious and checked the "other" box when asked my affiliation. Maybe these pious pew men wanted to save me. Or could be the Christian Mingle girls were boring?

Just as my 60-day membership was coming to an end, I had a near-miss with someone 10 years younger who reached out to me with an articulate, sweet note. Clint told me I had kind eyes and a warm smile. Flattery got him to stage one.

I replied with a few questions. What do you do? Why are you interested in someone older? He responded that he didn’t go to college. He worked construction until he had back problems. He didn’t care about material things, didn’t like society’s pressures, always related to mature women and didn’t have much money. He didn’t want anything from me other than friendship and possibly love. Nothing wrong with any of that. But my gut, heart, head and spleen told me to run away from this poor, lonely guy who was probably on disability.

Instead, I turned to a Seinfeld episode, as I often do in life, and remembered the "Opposite George" one where George decided his life was in the toilet because every decision he made was wrong. He would no longer trust his instincts but rather do the opposite. So I agreed to meet Clint for coffee in a public place on a Friday afternoon. After all, he did like my eyes.

In the emails leading up to our date I learned he didn’t have a cell phone and perhaps no home phone either. He mentioned again how he didn’t have, or need, much money and how excited he was to see me. Every day Clint would suggest we meet and go for a walk to see the fall colors or just to talk. I would remind him I wanted to meet in public first. He would say he understood–then try again with another email.

I was pretty sure Clint was whittling a piece of wood into my likeness while sitting on the back step of his one-room "Unabomber" cabin. He planned to give me the Terri doll (with the kind eyes) just before killing me.

So I broke up with Clint before we met and let my OurTime membership run out.

Of course, we all know of online dating success stories. That’s why I gave this a shot. But when some idiot ends his profile, "I hope to here form you," I can only conclude:

"I dew knot."

After a 36-year career in corporate marketing and advertising, Terri Connett is now a columnist for She writes, with an edge, about social justice, aging, politics and Catholicism. This is her fifth article for Terri lives in a small resort town on Lake Michigan’s shore and may be reached at: