Hanging out at my friend R’s house I told her about my newly bald vagina. ‘Does that mean you’re a ‘good girl?’ She asked referring to Sir. ‘I certainly hope so’ I said. In fact, I was finding Sir a bit frustrating. For some reason all the email chat was making me hot but when, if at all was I going to get some live action? I had images of a pock marked nerd sitting at his computer in the middle of the night, the white light illuminating his unfortunate habit of premature ejaculation.
Changing the topic, I told her about Craigslist and how weird the personals are. Some very specific indeed: ‘Want to get fingered in the park?; Do you have a vagina?; See Dr Feelgood MD; Wanna eat shelter girl out tonight; Seek nude ballet dancer’ you get the drift. What R loved the most however, were not the titles although they are hilarious in a black way but the endless stream of cock selfies. Clearly, these men think of their cocks as their best feature to put forward first. Having two little boys allows me an insight to this strange world of self love and it remains bewildering even now if not well, cute. She scrolled through for at least 45 minutes shifting from an initial ‘wtf?’ to head thrown back, roll on the floor laughter. It was sad and uncomfortable in the same way it is to watch a comedian fail on stage, you know they’re giving you their best material and you can see they’ve worked themselves up for it but embarrassingly, their audience isn’t biting. Even worse in some instances, they’re getting boo’ed off stage.
We talked about other apps and OkCupid came up. What the hell, I can just see what’s out there. Unfortunately, it turns out you have to start an account to use OkCupid. After some deliberation (what if my ex husband is on there?) I did just that. Within 5 minutes I had a barely passable selfie and a few lines about who I am no touching the contents. The thing with OkCupid is that you answer about 100 questions and some of them are made public. Most of them are seemingly random, “Would you rather a. A pit bull b. A Scottish Terrier c. I’m a cat person” and some might be a bit more relevant “Would you have sex on a. The first date b. The third date c. Not until we are in a relationship”.
Once you start using OkCupid anyone else who is on there can message you. I had only spent two hours using the app and I had received a lot of messages, maybe 60 or so including a considerable amount from men in their early twenties wanting to be my ‘toy boy’, an alluring prospect except for the fact that as every woman over 30 knows, young guys are shit in the sack.
I plucked two from the bunch. K, a sommolier and single dad and A, a designer and fellow divorcee.
Then I deleted my account.
Aside from the fact that it was overwhelming, I wasn’t really looking for a boyfriend and I could see that a lot of these guys were. After all, I don’t want to play the game. K wanted to start straight away. He asked me to message nude photos. The best he got was a pic of my legs. Notoriously unphotogenic, this part of the ritual makes me the most uncomfortable. It must have been good enough though because we made a time to meet the following Friday.