LORI AVOCATO

Ah, the wonderful world of online dating. Roses and a mouse. Some might think it is a scary black hole, yet I disagree. I've been doing Match for some time and liken it to a kid in a candy store. There are so many available men! I have a ball looking through all the choices! Naturally, there are a lot with the divorce rate, what? over 50% by now? I actually like meeting different people and learning new things(and, yes, using some of it in my fiction), but every first meeting is not going to be with Mr. Right. I know that. I still enjoy myself. Some people get too worried about it and think that each meeting should be the last. Ha. Dream on. Remember I did 113 first dates and only NINE second dates in my Match past. But today I'm not discussing the normal online dating. Today I'm confessing a blunder of mine--so you kids will never commit the same "oops." In a moment of boredom, I decided to see what my competition was in the wonderful world of online dating. So, I changed my search info to "I am a Man" looking for a "Woman" with the same zip code as mine. Yikes. The competition was stiff. Well, I only wish they were stiffs, there were actually a lot of very attractive contenders. I didn't go so far as to read anyone's profile because, frankly, I didn't care. Looks are the first thing that is going to get a guy to click on a girl's profile and visa versa. So, I returned to the search engine and stuck back my info to do a little searching of the guys. Well, one page popped up and there were some lookers (see? looks count for a first impression, however, I will say, we all have different taste and what I find attractive may not be what my friends find attractive. That is why they make chocolate AND vanilla ice cream). So, I clicked on looker #1's profile. Hm. Professional. Likes traveling. Likes the city or the country. Likes to cook. Likes pets. Height > 6' Doesn't smoke. Okay, he meets my initial criteria.

I move my cursor over to "wink at him" and click. Now for those of you not savvy in the art of online dating, that means Match will send an email to this guy saying I am interested in him. It'll show him my profile and hopefully he is not going to scrutinize every word. I find myself not even reading the entire profile sometime. Hey, I'll learn if he likes wine or beer after we've met.

It's snowing. I'm still bored so I go back to his profile and decide to read it more throughly. I get to the part where he writes, "he should be comfortable in jeans or a tux."

What? What? WHHHHHHHHHHHAT?

A pat phrase for Matchmen is "she should be comfortable in a jeans or a little black dress." I assume the guy made a typo. But wait. That would be two typos. He for she and tux for little black dress, which would be a doozie of a typo.

I click on another profile on this page of choices. Everything this handsome devil writes is "HE should be laid back. HE should be smart and funny. HE should be comfortable in jeans or a tux."

Oh...my....gosh.

I just winked at a gay guy. An entire page of gay guys. I looked at my search choice. I had clicked "I am a Man" looking for a "Man."

The moral of the story, my kids, is to read thoroughly before you click or wink in life.

Lori

PS He never responded, and I'm taking that to mean I don't look like a transvestite.

Not only do precious little babies grow up--but they become teens. And then, thank the good Lord, they move out of our houses.

Yes! Please, a moment of silence.

I read in the newspaper today about a couple of "emptynesters." She was complaining that he didn't like doing anything she liked to do and realized they'd spent most of their married years doing kid-related things. Duh. It's true. Take another look at little blue pants up there. He can't do anything on his own other than lift his head, eat, poop, maybe smile (unless it's gas) and cuddle. That cuddle part is nice, thought, I gotta admit.

But, when you spend close to eighteen years feeding, cleaning up after, running around for, going to sports they do games and losing endless nights of sleep once they start driving, it's tough to buy into the "empty nest" syndrome.

I want my nest empty. That way, it stays clean. I don't find any dirty dishes in my living room nest. I don't find any socks missing from my private nest collection. And, I don't have to count the number of tiles on my nest ceiling at night in order to try to fall back to sleep because the darling teen isn't home yet. Again, I want my nest e...m...p...t...y!

Here's my theory: There is no such thing as empty nest as far as the parents are concerned. I think the term was coined by some graduate student, who, after finishing college, couldn't get a job to support himself, couldn't afford a car and insurance, and couldn't afford food so he tried to convince his parents that they were suffering from "empty nest" so they'd take him back. Bologna! I'm keeping my oldest's bedroom as an office to discourage him from ever thinking there's a few square footage in my nest that he can come back to someday.

Oh, and that couple was right. We spend way too much time on the kids and neglect ourselves.

Empty nest, schmempty nest.

Lor--who is planning on moving in with her sons when she's too old to live alone. So there!