I feel like the weakest woman on the planet sometimes. When it comes to this goddamned app I have the self control of the world’s fattest man in a Krispy Kreme doughnut shop.
Before you judge, though, let me tell you what I did.
The entire last year on that app was so depressing. At 46 I put my photos up, was nice and rarely even got a message. I look the same, save the blonde highlights I got recently.
Apparently 47, a tad blonder, a tiny touch of cleavage (tiny… I mean it. I’m a DDD. If I were to put my boobs on Tinder NOTHING about it would be tiny and I’d have 5000 legitimate fucking perverts to weed through) and I let my true self shine through. That means I’m a total fucking sarcastic smart ass this time around.
I made my new profile less than 48 hours ago and I’ve already been on a date and have more than 200 messages in my box. From hot guys 35-50 (my realistic age range) who have been respectful so far. Is 47 the new 30? Do blondes really have more fun? Can men really handle my sarcastic, witty self? How did I not know this?
Last night’s date was mediocre. We knew each other in middle school come to find out. He’s exceptionally boring. He’s done a lot of therapy. He’s nice but not my type. I didn’t tell him his facial hair looked awful on him and he was much more handsome before he started running marathons (i.e. 75 pounds heavier). I won’t see him again.
I have another date tonight and my dance card is full through next week. Don’t ask me what changed other than a couple of photos and letting my true asshole shine through. Apparently men find that funny. I wish I had known all it took was being honest.
I also have a new outlook on this. I’ve shown interest in guys that I normally wouldn’t have. Instead of 6′ I’ve dropped it to 5’10. I’ve expanded my ages to a little older (but they still have to be handsome). I’ve let up on not liking the dad bod a little bit.
My hopes aren’t up, but my vigor is renewed.
I give it two weeks.
-THAT Crazy Girl