Style guide to online dating
If Mr Right cares about punctuality, he should probably know I have a stellar capacity for getting lost.
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Sally was an extension of Nora Ephron - single-minded with a certain way of ordering a sandwich exactly the way it needed to be for her. For countless hairdressers rendered clueless and incompetent by the state of my hair, I unfolded that page as though it were the Shroud of Turin, while I beseeched them to grant me a Meg Ryan haircut. Seventy was out of the question - definitely not a new 50. Even though I recently found out that it’s bad for the car, I only buy gas after the “empty” light comes on.
And, most people will remember Sally in the throes of a spectacular fake orgasm in Katz’s Deli. Not until I turned 50 did they ever get it quite right. By all accounts, 40 was the deadline for letting oneself go. I can finally go on record and confess that I don’t like , and I even fell asleep during a performance of the musical version.
It’s much safer - and easier - to sparkle and enchant the way you would on your resumé - except you have to be cuter, avoiding clichés or divulging your home address. My best friend reminded me I have an unparalleled expertise in ambiguity, which reminded me not to give too much away. I was wearing the outfit I had worn in my profile picture, perhaps to prove that I had posted a picture taken within at least the past decade.
You also have to accept that it is going to be awkward, especially if the last time you were “out there” was 1989 when, if you met a man at a bar, you did not already know his political persuasion or his favourite movie, how much he earned or if he had a tattoo. He would buy you a drink, ask for your number, call a day - or maybe two - later, take you to the movies the next weekend, and over time - real time - you would build the scaffolding necessary to weather every storm in a teacup. I checked the boxes, being scrupulously truthful about my age, politics and marital status while taking some liberties with other details like hair colour and the frequency of visits to the gym. Emboldened, I provided ambiguous and annoying responses to the simplest questions: Favourite thing? It was also a good hair day, my hairdresser having redeemed himself with fabulous beachy highlights (just in case a moonlight walk was in the cards). As Rob Reiner reminded me in his tribute to Nora Ephron: “You don’t always have to express every emotion you’re having when you’re having it.’ There’s a right time to talk about certain things, and you don’t need to be out there all the time just spewing.