Reading Time: 3 minutesI thought I’d write a piece covering the prevalence of online dating, swipe right. Although, I’m wondering if anyone actually reads any of my writings. Like all my silly nonsense, this presents some truth but also great big mobs of bullshit. This is an exaggerated account of diving into the impersonal, smart phone world of locating and attracting a mate.
Not for the faint hearted I’ll tell you … it’s excruciating. The following is not aimed at seeking any attention or sympathy, other than maybe finding me another human to play with, share stuff, and listen to my crap while I listen intently to hers. Yes fellas, I require a woman.
Bill woke to find he was old. Not very old he thought, certainly not in his mind, not old compared to some, but old. Old enough that it seemed to deter, deflect any chance of enjoying some frolicking fun. He was psychically capable, keen and prepared yet couldn’t find anyone willing to – “bonk an oldie” – “grab a grandad” – “pursue a past a due date dude” or “just fuck an old fucker”. Well technically it should be – “just not fuck an old fucker”.
He couldn’t even swing a drink or a chat
Bill now understood all too clearly that he shared this frightening realisation with women of his age. The cliche he’d heard about had boldly unfurled itself into his world and was not just flapping about in those other worlds. Men looking for younger women leaving older ladies without a market to attract or secure. Except for those with cougar abilities.
They seemed to flourish and really unfurled their flags … flying high, flapping about and really catching the wind so to speak. The flag poles they found were proud, strong and often. Women who may not have been keen or able to swim in that category were just like Bill.
Everybody it seemed was having to endure flagrant, heart piercing rejection on the current avenues open to them, via this internet dating. Such rejection was the nature of these systems. The descriptions were pretty wild as well and Bill felt less than desirable or confident when compared to the selection criteria required by the ladies online.
A reaction
Bill took things far too literally which made things all that more difficult. Oddly the fact that the ladies were there with their own background, baggage, inadequacies and life experience didn’t seem to matter. Everyone was less than perfect, just like Bill.
What a frightfully tortuous exercise it was. Bill was keenly watching his blistering lack of progress, completely disenchanted every single day, at every single check of the much promised success. He’d see ladies view him and not proceed? He’d sent hundreds of messages with all but three being completely ignored.
“Bloody hell” … thought Bill, He remembered what was he missing. What had become of his life? Had he now completely passed, missed, dropped or lost any chance of intercourse? Social or sexual.
Should he take to hanging about in local bars? hiding in the edges, in the dark corners like a stalker of the highest order. Should he travel overseas to South East Asia and become a sex tourist. Become a sad cliched old westerner in a exotic (erotic) bar fine bar. Exploiting the poverty and soul destroying life of young girls trapped in a cycle of prostitution.
Money
Internet and bank account ready for responding to tales of woe, coordinating the money transfers to well organised gangs preying on such men. Or indeed, should he order one online.
The Saturday morning shopping increasingly revealed a few dishevelled old buggers wandering about with their incredibly young brides, and maybe in some cases with their fresh postage marks. Bill completely understood the desperate survival instincts of the young ladies involved and was sadly becoming more aware of the old souls needs and sheer desperation.
So Bill, upgraded his accounts. Saw who saw, read, read deleted and ignored. It’s like picking fruit, as the good stuff gets snapped up the remaining is flicked over, prodded (electronically) moved aside and in some cases dropped on the floor.
These events aren’t for the faint of heart, not for Bill at all but what else could he do. He wasn’t going to Asia, he wasn’t going to give up. He would persevere. There would be a female human looking for someone like him and when she found him she’d pounce. When she did Bill would pounce right back.
An increasingly grumpy old fart posting rants, observations and trying to write somewhat twisted short stories for adults. All rights reserved unless otherwise credited © Alan Crawford - 2024
