"I have a question"

With the finale of Golden Bachelor now in the rearview mirror, I thought it'd be a good time to relate some of my brief experiences in elder dating -- an entirely different experience than the one depicted on national TV.

But if I may put Cupid's arrow back in the quiver for a moment and tell you how I got there in the first place, because to be honest as I was emerging from the crippling grief, it NEVER occurred to me. 

It did occur to my friend John, who after a night of drinking and frivolity and flirting with a waitress at the Backstage Bar (just up the street from my house) said, "You know, you're a single man now." 

That kind of stopped me in my tracks. 

Weeks later, I stepped gently into the unchartered (at least for me) of online dating. Years earlier I was doing some freelance work for eHarmony and was told to set up an account to get the full eharmony experience. And to be honest, my late wife Deb thought it would be hilarious to see how that would transpire -- I think she was excited about it than me -- but the assignment fizzled out before I could wow any would-be suitors.

When it actually came time, I started with Bumble, because it was my understanding women make the first move. Sort of like a Sadie Hawkins dance -- there's a dated reference -- but on the interwebs. 

One night, like an idiot, I left my phone on the coffee table and my youngest daughter saw the app icon on my screen. That released the waterworks.

In any case, to my great surprise, there were many respondents. Some I've come to learn were scammers. But many were not. Apparently the fact that I didn't use any barechested bathroom selfies or photos of me holding up a fish I caught at Lake Cachuma, marked me as a semi-normal man. 

A rarity in this arena.

The eventual back and forth texting banter eventually led to an introductory phone call. The first contestant was a leggy Cougar in her 50's who lived in Beverly Hills. I had visions of leaving frumpy Culver City and moving on up to the Hills. Of course I'd have to visit a haberdashery and invest in an Ascot. Or maybe two.

The call quickly went south when she decided to spend the first twenty minutes talking about her ex, who was in his 70's and necessitated certain night time underwear of an absorbent nature. 

When she did segue, it got even worse.

"Hey, I'm looking at your profile picture and was wondering something..."

"Yes?" I replied.

"Would you be willing to shave off your mustache?"

Wow, guess I won't be spending the afternoon at the Ascot Emporium. 

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That's enough sado-masochism for the day, maybe I'll make my foray into online dating a continuing series? Ms. Muse has also offered up her amusing anecdotes, so it could get interesting.