Remember the old theory about answering True/False questions? Always go with your first thought. The other day provided a great example.

May’s madness found me registering on an internet dating sight.
It’s something I do biennially and with equal success: None.
Still, (as they say), even a blind squirrel finds an acorn once in a while.
And didn’t Alan meet Joanie on JDate? So I posted my picture, completed the profile and put the ball in play.

If nothing else, hitting the Search menu is a good way to fill time. Mindless energy at day’s end. It’s fun to look at the faces, read the bios, and then do nothing. And it’s easy.

Every once in a while a lady has “that look.” Usually, however, I pass.
Truth is if there’s no physical connection there’s zero chance of moving forward. I’m not above being appropriately shallow.

Last week I passed on a lady for no specific reason, although, in fact, her demographics were in field goal range: she was 57 and Jewish. Still, for whatever reason, maybe mood or timing, I was just not inclined to contact her. She, however, wrote me:

“I am answering you viewing me….because…I would like to meet you…”

She appeared to be better looking for a woman than I am for a man, so I bit.
We arranged to meet at the Starbucks on Chagrin. Proximity to my office provided an exit strategy if needed.

My M.O. is to arrive early and study the entry. This was no time to make an exception. Window glare handicapped my focus, but as she entered field goal range I noted that her website picture had not been taken yesterday. There was a better chance it was shot during the first Gulf War. That having been said, I silently repeated my mantra (“Don’t drop your smile).”

She approached. When she hit the red zone I offered her beverage.
We each ordered iced coffee. Not my standard fare, but I’d already concluded that getting two of the same drink would shave 1.5 minutes off the adventure. (It all adds up).

Five minutes into our conversation she dropped a bombshell:

“Just so you know,” she smiled, “I lied on my profile.”
“Yeah…about my age.”

I don’t know if she noticed my gulp, but I was more bothered by the lie than the age thing. At least then.

“So how old are you”, I gingerly queried as I measured her body language.

“In my 60’s…but does it matter? I think age is only a number.”
“Well, “I noted with charm, “If you really think that—why did you lie?”

The pause was pregnant, but then things smoothed out. Truth be known we were not a match on many grounds. B’Shert she wasn’t. She did, however, in the context of my running out the clock with Jewish Geography, reveal that she had been related to my almost-relative Maynard.

EXACTLY forty-five minutes after the fun began I got up, thanked her for her time, and went back to the office.

Calling Maynard last night to share the story, I withheld the name until the narrative was complete. He was dying to know who the blind coffee date was. I made him grovel by phone, but then told him.

He was incredulous!

“Bruce, do you want to know how old she is?”
“Of course.”
“Let’s see, she was married to ____________, OK…. she’d be about 72.”

When he was done laughing I thanked him. Seemed the right thing to do.

You know, I could live with 60’s. 62, 63, or even if the stars align just right a young 65. But 72?

That dog don’t hunt.


  1. Aunt Helen says:

    This was very well written. However,,,, sometimes you anger me so.
    72 is NOT old.
    But your patronizing (or “shallow” as you would say) attitude is.
    I am sure that even Maynard “almost” gets it”.
    Again I ask: “What is wrong with you?”

  2. ME says:

    I glad that Aunt Helen is not related to me, My dear freind Bruce……….there is nothing wrong with you. I think it is called being a normal 60 year male.

  3. Bessie Zane says:

    Try a Cougar!

  4. Jackie says:

    Haha…you missed your chance with a cougar.

  5. Almost says:

    I’m surprised. Just because there is snow on the roof, it doesn’t mean that there is no heat in the kitchen.

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