Dating is a Numbers Game

Dating is a numbers game

I have two criteria for guys I’ll date:  self-supporting and not crazy. I don’t think that’s too high a bar. I went on a date last week with a guy I met through the online free dating service POF (Plenty of Fish.) He emailed me and asked why people in the arts were usually politically liberal. That was an interesting question. I suggested we meet to discuss it. I assumed that he was also a liberal. We spoke on the phone several times and he made me laugh. That was a good sign. I agreed to meet him for lunch, against one of my rules of a first date: never commit yourself for more than a drink or iced tea.

He suggested Thai food. When I suggested a place I knew that was reasonably priced, he rejected it as only mediocre. (Why do I always have to come up with the place to meet?) I then suggested Malee’s On Main in downtown Scottsdale. I’d never been there but it’s always on a list of the valley’s best restaurants. He asked what I would be wearing. I told him he would recognize me because I looked just like the picture on my profile.

I recognized him right away, waiting for me outside the restaurant. Miracle! We both looked like our photos. We were seated at a window table. The place was nearly empty, although it filled as we ate. I was relieved that the lunch prices were within my price range as I always offer to pay my share. (He insisted on paying the bill.)

We settled in and told each other some of our life stories. He was a bit older than me, but definitely economically secure. He still sold insurance part-time to Medicare-eligible people.

I’m not sure this qualifies the guy as crazy, but it turned out that he was a conservative, not a liberal. He chose to discuss religion, politics, and abortion, not usual topics for a first meeting. Our opinions were polar opposites. It never degenerated into an argument because he was the type of person who thought others were entitled to their wrong opinions. I made it through lunch, but knew he was toast, even though both of us said we’d do another date. It’s hard to say “no” in person, and easier to just not communicate further.

My neighbor with the blood clots is doing better and can go out for short periods of time with portable oxygen. She went to the grocery store and was surprised to see an older, portly gentleman, also hooked up to oxygen, checking her out. She smiled but turned way. Dating is not on her priority list.

A friend of mine in Connecticut went out with a Scottish fellow for dinner through It was a disaster. He had his hearing aids in, but they weren’t fine-tuned, so he couldn’t hear her. And his accent was so thick she had a hard time understanding him.

Maybe I’ll have better luck this summer.


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