Just a few weeks ago, I connected with a slim, mids woman on a new dating app. I was still adding photos and bio information when we connected. A brief glance at her profile deemed her acceptable for my standards. Now 41, I have a thumbnail sized patch of white hairs coming in on the corner of my chin.
It adds contrast to the jet black of the rest of my trimmed stubble, and a look of sophistication to my youthful face. Yet I still manage to connect, and date attractive, often much younger women, from dating apps. This summer, I have been out with a handful of women, ages 25 a cute, somewhat chubby Latina , through mids the sexy, sophisticated professional that sent me into a 6 month long emotional tailspin. The lone photo on her profile was a silouhette of her full body, inverted into a graceful upside down yoga pose.
My main photo, which garners the most compliments, is a simple selfie. In it, I show off a post workout pump, looking vascular and athletic in the gym bathroom mirror. Women claim to hate gym selfies on dating profiles, but I receive constant compliments whenever I employ them.
I thanked my new match for her gracious compliment, grinning at my phone from ear to ear. Seizing the opportunity to end on the high note, I explained I needed to turn in for the night. A slim woman in her mid 30s has unlimited options in men vying for her attention on any dating app. I was pleasantly surprised that she remembered me, out of her probably dozens of other matches, and wanted to continue chatting.
It would be easier to explain in person… would you like to get together sometime? We set a time and place to meet for coffee, and a walk in a scenic nearby park, at sunset, later that week. I wore a simple Cuban link gold chain, a spritz of a woodsy cologne, slacks, and a floral athletic fit golf shirt that showed off my fledging biceps and broad shoulders. Thirty minutes before the start of our rendezvous, I threw a leg over my motorcycle, kick started it to life, and rode away to meet my next new fling.
