Call Me Pollyanna

Some have called me Pollyanna before - I not offended by that. I am a 'glass half-full' kind of girl. But it has, on occasion, caused me to do things in retrospect that I wish I hadn't been so optomistic about. Asking five boys to the tolo in my sophomore year would probably be the first on that regret list. Taking my former husband back after he left the first time and not willing to go into counseling - right up there near the top; thinking I could ride my bike to San Francisco, well now, that was a good decision - that was totally a Pollyanna move. Online dating - back to the not such a good idea file.

My subscription to match.com ends next week. I no longer look at the "daily five matches" they send - in fact I delete them immediately. But when I originally signed up for my latest and last online dating nightmare  experience almost immediately I received a 'wink' from a gentleman who made a comment about my silver/gray hair. He was by far the most handsome man I'd seen online and his profile was well written and engaging. I sent an e-mail back to him expressing interest about meeting. He responded telling me how busy he was with all the inquiries he received and the fact that he had four dates for the coming weekend! Clearly, this man's dance card was full and this silver/gray haired lady was not high on his priority list. I wrote back asking him to send me a wedding announcement. That apparently got his attention and he wrote something along the lines of, "I'll let you know what the china pattern looks like."

Over the next two months he would periodically send me an update on his busy dating schedule and I would respond in turn. Our e-mails were flirtatious - fun, but he clearly had a large ego. I never really thought we'd meet, so it was a bit of surprise when I saw his name in my in-box.

He wrote that is was high time for us to meet. No indication as to why now would be a good time but I assumed that maybe he hadn't found his ideal match. I agreed and a location was decided upon. Now Dear Reader, please try to put yourself in the romantic movie mindset: here she is a lonely, single, middle-aged woman, looking for love in this modern world - she tries online dating with awful results - gives up - but out of the blue, comes one more request - and why not, how bad can it really be? She's not excited about meeting him - has no false hopes for anything but another wasted hour and add to this movie scenario, she agrees to meet him at a bar instead of her characteristic coffee date. You can see the set-up, can't you?

I arrived at the busy, happy-hour bar that was in full swing. Immediately he spots me, waves and I confidently sashay across the room, certain that I'm making a good impression. He looks like his pictures, gives me the wide, straight-tooth smile, pulls out the chair like a good gentleman and we sit down to begin the date. You heard the best of it - without he asking even one question about me and my life style, I heard during the remaining hour all about him:

• Only eight more payments on the Porsche and it's paid off!
• Beautiful condo on the waterfront!
• Fabulous retirement planned in Italy and enjoying it with his "special Lady"
• Regular 'bladding' (finally surmised this was a reference to roller bladding)
• Flat cycling excursions! 
• The marriage ending ceremony he and his ex-wife performed!
• His exciting and fascinating career!
• Add to all this: he constantly darted his eyes around the room, either checking out what could be a better evening companion or looking for a loan shark that he owed money to - not sure of what he looking for.

In his defense he never seemed the least bit interested in me - so I didn't get to act like I wasn't into him. All in all, it was a fitting end to my online dating experience. He helped augment the notion that this was not for me.

The picture at the top of this post is the last correspondence I looked at on my match account.  He began his e-mail with the salutation; Heeey pretty little lady . . . it's pretty obvious even for this Pollyanna why I needed to call it quits.