The “Man” Who Played With Toys and Other “Icks” of Dating

My obsession this year was watching a new Netflix series, Nobody Wants This. I watched the entire series four times. It’s about two sisters who have a podcast about relationships and dating. (There’s a rabbi in it too, but let’s not get into that.) The writers of this series, Erin and Sarah Foster, actually have a podcast in real life, entitled, The World’s First Podcast, in which they discuss and banter about friendships, sistership, and dating, among other things. One of my favorite episodes from the series is “The Ick”, which is basically something that turns you off when you’re dating someone. Coincidently, the actual podcast’s latest episode is entitled “The Ick Episode”. So, the cosmic forces are in place because there are no coincidences. I was meant to write this entry because every time I go on a date or even talk with a guy on the phone, “The Ick” is always a possibility looming in the air. My date with the “spitter” that I wrote about in my last entry was a perfect example of this. And Saturday afternoon, the icks were coming in rapid succession, like fireworks on the Fourth of July, but not the good ones.  

I know, I know, I wrote on my last blog that I was taking a break from the dating sites but they lure you in. I’m minding my own business, enjoying life in my goddess circles, or FaceTiming with one of my grandchildren and I get a notification from a dating site saying, “Newman likes you.” So I have to check it out and by the way, what kind of name is Newman, anyway…is it his last name, is it a play on the words, new & man, like do you want a new man in your life, or is this his given name?  And also it’s like you’re transported back to junior high school and your friends would run up to you and say, no scream, “Robert Maltzman likes you!!!!” (That really did happen to me.) And you suddenly feel like you must be the luckiest girl in the world or at least, in the school. (Of course the next week, he hates you and likes Audrey Eisenstadt, instead. That really did happen too.) 

I think most of us always need to be noticed and attractive. These dating sites give you the opportunity to present yourself in the most attractive way to avoid giving someone the ick before you even meet them. However, as you go through some of the profiles, you find yourself saying, “ick, ick, ick” just from their pictures or what they write about themselves, for example….

(Disclaimer: the names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

Ted is taking a selfie in his bathroom where his bath towels are hanging, sloppily with stains, behind him, the bathmat is not flat, and the top of his head is cut off probably because he doesn't know how to take a selfie and doesn't know that bathroom selfies are totally ICK

Bruce's profile reveals he doesn't know how to use the words too, to, then, than, their, there correctly = ICK

The guy who's description of himself includes "tactile, very tactile, oral, very oral" and then repeats the word 'tactile' again further on = I'm starting to imagine a guy raking his hands through my hair and licking my face- ICK!

The guy's profile is even more explicit than the latter one to the extent that I had to hit the REPORT link for inappropriate statements = ICK

Your name ends in "frisky" = ICK

Any man holding a large (dead) fish = ICK

The list could go on and on. Is it me?  Am I being too pICKy? 

On Saturday, I definitely thought I was being reasonable when I talked to “the man who played with toys”. He was my age and had a similar career background as a former special education administrator with a doctoral degree.  He wanted to meet, so I suggested we have a phone call first. The first thing he did was ask me, “Where’s your bottle?” I didn’t get it at first, until he reminded me that Genies come in bottles. He must’ve been practicing this witty line all day. Then he proceeded to tell me about all the “psychos” he had met in the last few months he’s been on this dating site. When I asked him what made them psychos, he said they liked him up until the second date when they did a 180 degree turn. (Hmm…I detected an ick, already.)

“But you’re not one of them, Jeannie,” he assured me, “I like your voice and I like your pictures on your profile, let’s cancel our subscriptions and ride off into the sunset.” 

“Slow down,” I responded, “you don’t even know me yet.”  

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“Delray”, I replied. 

“Perfect! That’s where I fly my plane.”  

“You have a plane?”

“Well it’s not one you can actually get into, it’s remote control.”   

“Interesting, so tell me more about yourself.”

“Well, I got married when I was older, at 50. And what came with that was four teenage children and that was a disaster. One of them would cut herself and wanted to commit suicide every time her boyfriend broke up with her.  I was married for 8 years and I just couldn’t take it, so we got divorced.  I had other long time relationships; the last one the woman kept on forgetting who I was. She had some kind of early onset dementia.  And I realized, I didn’t want to take care of her for the next 30 years.  So that was about 8 months ago.” 

At this point I lost count of all the red flags and icks, I was trying to figure a way to make an escape, without just turning the phone off. I decided to tell him about me, not that he even asked me about myself up to this time. 

“My story is a lot different from yours, I was married a very long time and my husband died so I’m in this situation not really by choice.  Also I have children and grandchildren who live a distance away and even though I have my own life, I’m very close to them and I visit them throughout the year. They are very important to me.”

He didn’t say a word, not even the perfunctory, “I’m sorry for your loss”.  I took a deep breath and said this,  

“So, I’m going to tell you this now. This is not going to work out, we are simply not on the same page. And I really don’t want to continue any further. You’re not the one for me and vice versa. Good luck with your planes.” 

He seemed stunned, and angry and then he just hung up. I felt very proud of myself.

What am I learning from all this? Dating can be frustrating, especially when you’re close to seventy. It's basically a diversion for me right now. It’s a topic where most of my friends don’t have advice, or too much advice. There are times I laugh about this and there are times that I just want to cry about it, realizing what my life is now and asking, how did I get here?  Recently, I heard a story about a woman who lost her husband suddenly, and after only a few months, she met someone in an elevator of the building where she was renting a new apartment. They have been together for two and a half years now.  All she had to do was press a couple of buttons and she wasn’t even looking. 

And still, I have all this love that’s so very much alive for my very dead husband. That love has a life of its own. Sadly, there is no place for that love to go so it just becomes my tears almost every day. 

Well it is now 8:00 on Friday evening. I began this entry five days ago on Sunday, the 18 month anniversary of the day my life just disappeared. I’m sitting at our dining table, the one Mark loved so much that he had to demonstrate how he could extend it whenever company would come over. It’s quiet in the house, although the “noise” of the quiet is deafening. I am alone and I am lonely, but I made it through another day carrying that invisible sack of grief. The days keep coming but the grief never goes away.