Whose Job is it Anyway?

I was a teenager in the 1980s, not the 1950s, but even then, my mother sounded like Lorraine McFly in Back to the Future, putting down Marty’s girlfriend Jennifer Parker for being the one to call him. (To be honest, calling him three times in the space of a few hours when they’d already been together after school is really excessive.) “I don't like her, Marty. Any girl who just calls up a boy is just asking for trouble…. I think it's terrible! Girls chasing boys. When I was your age I never chased a boy or called a boy or sat in a parked car with a boy.” (Of course later we find out that Lorraine was pretty hot to trot, or maybe it was just Marty was so irresistible, she couldn’t help herself.)

My mom was the same way, warning me against chasing boys, telling me that any boy I called would see me as desperate, and opining that if a boy liked you, he’d call you, so if he hadn’t called, it meant he didn’t like you, so why bother calling him?

I didn’t listen to my mother, but she had a point. The guys I went after were not as into me as the guys who went after me. Still, it was an easier time then. Men were still expected to make the first move. Women were expected to be asked. It was such a big deal for a woman to ask out a man that an entire dance was dedicated to it.

Now… not so much.

Of course, this is both good and bad. Women are expected to go after everything they want in life – sports, jobs, etc. Of course they should go after a man they’re interested in. At the same time, as the term “emotional labor” becomes more and more prevalent in recognition of how married women run the household, even in households of two earners, it’s interesting to note that this phenomenon is creeping into the dating scene as well. Men don’t just want wives who’ll arrange their social life, make their doctor’s appointments, sign up their kids for school and make the grocery shopping lists… they want girlfriends who’ll make the first move, plan their social lives, come up with creative dates, and keep the passion fires burning.

It starts online. There’s even a dating site where women have to make the first move. Yes, it’s based on the premise that online dating can be dangerous for women, that men will harass them, and of course this is one hundred percent true. But it’s also true that many men can’t even be bothered to get someone to take a decent picture of them, to write out a profile, or to send a message that says more than “Hi.” Why have a website where only women can make the first move when so many of us are forced to anyway?

It’s possible that just as many women are equally brief online. I wouldn’t know; I don’t see their profiles. But I’ve lost track of the number of profiles I’ve clicked on, wanting to know more about a man, only to be told to “ask me anything! I’m an open book!” So much easier to put the onus on the woman to ask questions, rather than taking the time to write out a profile explaining who they are and what they are looking for in a mate. And there’s the old “I’m new here; will update later” from four months ago.

Last week an attractive guy “Hi!” ed. Usually I ignore these brief ones. But he was cute, so I sent back “hey there.”

I heard nothing back.

Men, you’re not just competing with the other lazy men on the site. You’re competing with our friends, with Netflix, with Meet-Up groups. There are so many other things we can do rather than wait for Mr. “What do you want to know about me” to put together a few sentences to describe himself.

If you’re not going to put any effort into your profile, I don’t think you’ll put in any effort to meeting me.

I was supposed to have a date tonight. I reached out to him; said I’d liked his profile and please check out mine and write back if he liked what he read. He said he did. We made plans for tonight. This afternoon, he begged off sick. I was, of course, understanding.

I’m not expecting to hear back from him again. Oh well. It’s rainy tonight, and I’ve heard good things about that Netflix series “Typewriter.” I’ll be fine.

This is why you should read the entire profile

The weather was bad on Friday – lots of scary thunderstorms. I’d been chatting with a guy on POF during the week (he reached out first), and we agreed to meet Friday night, but play it by ear in regards to the weather. I sent him a note Friday afternoon, went to my writers’ meeting, then came home and settled down with a good book. The storms passed around 7, and I waited to hear from him. And waited.

Oh well. It was a great book. Definitely not a wasted evening.

This morning my phone beeps with a message from him. I’m already done – not a big believer in giving second chances to make a first impression – but curious as to what he might say. This was it:

“Sorry Hun, not political at all but I can’t stand illegal immigrants, and ur party seems to thrive on them, I’m sure simply for more votes, plzz think about the well being of the country ty MJF.”

So, definitely dodged a bullet there. I thought about sending a note back saying, “Here’s a thought: Why don’t you read someone’s profile before contacting them; you can save yourself a lot of time that way,” but I realized I’d save myself even more time by not replying at all.

I have two bestsellers waiting at the library for me.

Every day something new!

Lunch meeting with a fellow writer. His opening line: So I've been unemployed about two years now...

Then I come home to find a message: Opposites attract! I look forward to our discussion. He's a conservative who lives 25 miles away from me. I guess it's good to know upfront that someone's going to ignore your boundaries right away!

Someone Should Write a User’s Manual

When I first started this game, I stumbled across a profile of a man who used his time to explain to women what was wrong with their profiles and dating habits. I actually found his points enlightening until I got to the line about “don’t post pictures in bathing suits and then say you’re not into casual sex.”

Needless to say, I didn’t “like” him.

But I’m reminded of this guy on a regular basis, because I’m often tempted to write out such a list myself. The number of men who are on Match, yet lack basic communication and relationship skills, is mind-boggling.

Of course, if they had these skills, they wouldn’t be on Match, would they?

So here’s what happened to me this weekend. I had gone on several dates with a guy who contacted me after reading my Match profile (the one that says, among other things, “I vote and date blue… it’s important to me!”). They went well; there was good conversation; he took me out to a few nice meals and picked up the check. And barely touched me.

I decided it was time to reciprocate and give things a chance to blossom, so I invited him over to a home-cooked meal, warning him that I wasn’t really that great of a cook.

There aren’t a lot of cute little jokes in this story. Suffice it to say, he showed up empty-handed and after dinner told me he was a Republican, due to his overriding believe in lower taxes.

I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again. (Although I still showed him my favorite horror movie.)

I’m not going to be writing a list on Match, but if I were, it would include “Don’t go to a woman’s house for the first time without bringing wine or flowers or something.” And don’t contact someone when you know you’re not what she’s looking for.

Tomorrow, I’m going to lunch with a man who may be a complete whack-job. Stay tuned for more adventures.

Learning the Rules

“Seven o’clock?” my friend Dee said. “That is late for a happy hour. That’s his way of getting out of having to buy you dinner. Next time, ask if you should eat first.”

Dee’s been divorced for years, and moved to St. Pete about three years ago. She’s been one of my friends tutoring me in the fine art of internet dating.

Too bad for Steve that I hadn’t talked to her before meeting him. I’d come straight from a late work meeting, and I was starving. We talked for two hours, and he ended up paying for my non-happy-hour-priced drink and appetizer. When I’d asked if he were hungry, he’d told me that he’d already eaten. He seemed magnanimous about picking up the check – for a date that he’d initiated – but made it clear the next one would be on me.

There’s not going to be a next one. Even though he walked me back to the parking garage, holding my hand, gave me a peck on the lips and exchanged phone numbers with me, I haven’t heard from him. Maybe there’s a rule that the woman always initiates contact after the first meeting, but if there is one, I haven’t heard it. In any case, I’m relieved. I really don’t want to go out with him again, but I also don’t want to blow him off to his face. Much easier to pretend there will be another meeting while not actually setting one up. He’s cute, but he lives all the way in Clearwater. I spend too much time in my car as it is; driving to people’s houses all over Pinellas County as part of my in-house sales job. A guy has to be amazing for me to look for love outside to St. Pete.

I’ve been dating for less than a year; have had two relationships since the divorce. At first, I was eager to meet new men and enjoyed surfing the sites. I went out with my first “boyfriend” three times before I felt a spark of attraction, so I thought I owed it to myself to give decent guys more than one chance.

Then I met a guy to whom I felt an immediate attraction, and then spent months trying to make a relationship work when we had nothing else in common.

Now, even though I’m looking for my next relationship, I’m looking for reasons not to date. They include:

Lives too far away

Votes Republican

Too much younger than me (granted, I don’t run into this too often)

Too much older than me

Look like they’re older than me

Didn’t graduate college

Never married

Married too often

Didn’t have kids

Has too many kids

Not physically active

Too physically active

Doesn’t like TV

Watches too much TV

Talks too much

Doesn’t talk enough.

So you can see, this might be a problem.

Maybe the problem is me.

Unveiling "Dating in Paradise!"

I began this blog in the summer of 2012, right after my husband and I moved to Florida. At the time, I called it “my year on vacation;” we had rented the house for a year, and I honestly didn’t believe we’d be staying much longer than that. I left boxes unpacked. I viewed my new friendships as temporary. I thought a return to Maryland – the D.C. suburbs, with serious jobs and serious people – would happen in 2013.

Instead, we bought a house on St. Pete Beach; our son moved in with us for a year while he attended the local community college, and we became Floridians. I got my real estate license and doubled down on my writing. I was no longer on vacation; I renamed my blog “Writer in Paradise” and focused my posts mainly on writerly concerns. (It wasn’t until much later that I learned about the local writers’ conference, “Writers in Paradise.” I didn’t mean to steal its name!)

Last year, I had another huge upheaval in my life. My husband of nearly 28 years decided he didn’t want to be married anymore, and six weeks later we were divorced. Tom and I had met when I was 21, right out of college. Although I had dated a bit while I was in school, those days were long behind me. While divorce is sad and change is hard, it’s also catapulted me into a completely different life. I’m still writing, still pursuing my dream of being traditionally published. I’ve taken an additional sales job in addition to real estate to make sure I’m getting out of the house on a regular basis.

And I’m dating. Not meeting men through mutual friends, or work, or hobbies. I’m going on dates with men I’m meeting through dating apps. I tried OKCupid for a while; Bumble never really worked for me. I’m not looking for casual hook-ups, so I never logged into Tinder. Hinge got me a lot of men my son’s age, which was too creepy for words. So for now, I’ve settled on Match and Plenty of Fish. I’m paying for my Match account; I’m not upgrading with POF.

It’s an adventure. Too much of an adventure to keep to myself. So I’m refocusing my blog to share those stories. While I’m still a writer in paradise, my blog will be centered around dating in paradise. Ride shotgun on my adventure as I peruse the profiles of men holding giant fish and sitting astride motorcycles. Roll your eyes as I’m dumped by a guy who’d rather be with a Scientologist. Sympathize with me as I get pleading emails from 70-year-old men who live 70 miles away.

Florida Man is on Match, and his tattoos have their own photos.

Dating after 50 in Florida is not for the faint of heart. Or for those who don’t have a sense of humor. Or a Lyft account.

Join me!

I Get Knocked Down…

A few weeks ago, in my writers group, I shared some of the “pass” emails that my agent had gotten from editors who’d read my thriller, which I like to describe as “The Stepford Wives in the Villages.” (an upscale Florida retirement community known for conservative Republicanism and high levels of STDs)

To sum, these emails gushed over the concept and the plot, but all the editors had failed to connect with the voice. I explained that probably meant that while they liked the story, they just didn’t like how I told it. They didn’t like me as a writer.

How do you get past that? I was asked. How do you keep trying, keep writing, after rejections like that?

The answer is, I don’t know. For some reason, I just do.

This has been the worst year of my life so far. And even as I write that, I recognize how lucky I am. Other people’s “worst year” entails losing children, losing their health, losing their homes. I have all of these. (And I remain aware that I could still lose any or all of them.) Still, compared to where I was a year ago, there’s a lot of pain. Last year at this time, I had two books on submission with several imprints of the big five publishers, and I had high hopes for both of them. My husband had just started a new job, which resulted in a huge payout from the company he left. We were planning big vacations; I was researching MFA programs; life was fabulous.

And then I came home one afternoon and he had moved out. A few weeks later, rejections started rolling in from those publishers. I abandoned my MFA plans, put my house on the market, bought a small home for myself, put my next novel aside and worked on finding a “real job.” (His words.)

As writers, we are often told we need to develop a thick skin in order to handle criticism and rejections. What I learned from developing that thick skin is that it’s handy in situations that have nothing to do with publishing. Thick skin is necessary when your husband of 28 years tells you he wants to divorce you as quickly as possible because “women don’t date separated men.” Thick skin is also handy when that new job has people yelling at you because you committed the sin of showing up for an appointment they made. When the first guy you date after your divorce dumps you to return to his Scientologist ex-girlfriend, it’s that writing-developed thick skin that lets you turn the experience into a funny anecdote rather than an excuse to stop dating.

I guess this thick skin is why I keep writing. Or maybe it’s a thick head. I finished my first novel in 1992. I spent more years than I like to remember writing and trying unsuccessfully to sell screenplays. I won a few minor awards; even signed with an agent who apparently spent more time reading the Daily Racing Form than scripts. In 2012, with many of my online screenwriting friends producing and making their own movies, I decided it would be easier to self-publish a novel than to make a movie from one of my scripts. And perhaps that thinking doomed my chances of traditional publishing, since I’ve self-published two novels since then.

Still, my goal remains to be traditionally published, and it seems more out of reach than ever at this point. Is it the thick head that’s refusing to let me hear a message from the universe that I’m not a good- enough writer for the Big 5? When these thoughts threaten to overwhelm me, I’m reminded of a story that one of my workshop leaders likes to tell. He had taught a famous writer as an undergrad, and he’s often asked whether that writer was the most talented person he’d taught. His answer is no; the most talented person had bad luck and then just gave up.

We all know what luck is, but what constitutes talent? I often hear the saying that success is hard work plus luck, but where does talent fit into that equation? Most of us think of talent as being given by God or nature. My son played a lot of baseball growing up; in that sport there’s a saying: “Hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard.” My son worked very hard but he wasn’t talented enough, and there were enough talented players that did work hard that he was unable to progress. (And while the talented ones who didn’t work hard got farther in the short run, in the long run they are worse off than he is now.)

When my son stopped succeeded and started struggling in baseball, it was so painful that I had to “unfollow” other baseball parents whose sons were still progressing in the sport. Likewise, now when I go on Facebook and I see friends celebrating long-term marriages or publishing contracts, I can’t help asking why them and not me. What’s wrong with me, my voice, my stories that I’m not worth publishing or holding onto? Is this something I can fix? Or maybe there’s nothing wrong at all; I just haven’t found the right publisher or person.

Or maybe I just use too many semi-colons.

I may not ever get that publishing contract. I might not ever be in a long-term relationship again. But I can rewrite my personal definition of success.

Right now it’s: “I never gave up.”