26 May 2020

7:15 AM

Shock of shockers! My phone just vibrated. I FINALLY received a message from a dating app! I updated my profile over a week ago and thought I was dead in the water. I’m not going to open it yet. I think I’ll wait at least an hour, you know, so he doesn’t realize how desperate I am. Maybe my profile description of 50, HIV+ and a hoarder wasn’t the man-magnet I thought it was going to be? OK, I didn’t put hoarder, I put kayaking, yoga and art, but I am a bit of a hoarder. He would find out soon enough anyway. Probably as soon as he had to step over that big, bag of fabric I’ve got by my front door. Its not trash, its just looks like it.

Anyhoo, like many of my single friends, the COVID isolation quarantine has made me aware of JUST how single I am. I already spend a lot of my time alone, so it wasn’t that bad at first. Then we weren’t supposed to see ANYBODY. I slowly started realizing how far I live from (different continent) and what limited contact I have with what family I have left. The hundreds of posts and articles I read about couples and families struggling through the quarantine were another constant reminder of my singledom. I would’ve given my left tit to have someone to be annoyed by, and hopefully screw-around, sleep and cuddle with. So, I started taking daily walks and doing yoga in my apartment. I surrounded and planned a million projects that were sure to keep me occupied and give me a head start when things opened back up. I wasn’t going to let not meeting up with friends or see my family bother me. But it did, and still does. WHERE IS MY NAKED MAN FRIEND?

I keep telling myself, your not going to get wet, unless you get in the water. So, I decided I need to get on a dating app. I changed / updated my profile on the popular gay app, Scruff. I’ve been told its not as ageist as Grindr, but is still hook-upy. I would love to have a real date, rather than a hook-up, but at this point, I’ll take what I can get. I didn’t know where else to turn to. Dating apps have been a trigger for me. Mainly because, for years, I would get high, go on them and look for a fuck, then go fuck. I was rarely sober when I went on them. Now that I’ve stopped using drugs, this is new territory for me.

Not getting likes, messages or WOOFS was also uncharted territory, (that used to happen). I wasn’t even looking to meet during the quarantine, but after. Wasn’t there one guy out there that thought I was cute and intriguing enough to reach out to me? The only response I got from Scruff was from a picture collector. He lured me in with promise and hope of our future life together, “Good evening, beautiful weather today” 2 short, almost sentences later, he asked for my private photos. I wasn’t going to send them at first, but it seemed like my only hope, since no one else had responded to me. So I sent them, and SURPRISE!, he stopped talking to me. Dating scene revamp- Strike one.

Timing is everything. So, the week I’m looking for a companion / tonsil hockey comrade, I read an article about a new 50 + dating app, called Lumen. I’d pulled all my hair out checking Scruff for non-existent messages, so WHY NOT put my head on the Lumen chopping block too? I read they made it extra simple for the older folks, who tend to get more easily confused by technology. (Oh god). They also required a selfie upon sign-up to verify that one wasn’t using a photo from 400 years ago. (That seemed good.) Then, the closer I got to downloading and signing up for it, the horror set in. The realization that I was over 50, and was about to embarking upon the equivalent of the shuffle board of dating apps. Being 50 doesn’t usually bother me. That is, until I have to say it out loud or tick it on a form. I couldn’t do it. It took me 2 days to reconcile with myself that even though I only turned 50 a few months ago, (well, actually 8 now) I was still fucking over 50. OMIGOD- I’M ALMOST 51!

I decided that when I went by my gal pal’s house, I would ask her if she wanted to sign up with me? She’s nearly seventy and game for most things. After telling her about it, she was all in. We talked each other through it while we swapped stories of previous, terrible dates. After we FINALLY got some photos of ourselves that weren’t too alarming, we posted and filled in our profiles.

It was cute, until I realized that Lumen didn’t seem to have any gay people on it, at least not men. My (straight) gal-pal’s phone lit up like a Christmas tree. She got two messages in what seemed like two minutes. The first was a definite no, the other a definite maybe, at least for me. I would’ve traded, because my only option in the maximum, allotted 161 kilometer range, was not a match.

One. Only one gay man came up in my search. He was conservatively dressed, and obviously a fan of khaki and navy blue. He did have a nice smile, but I wasn’t interested in his heartfelt hikes wearing waterproof clothing with his banking colleagues. Here, I fretted, hemmed and hawed for 2 days to sign up, and he’s the only one there. Well….shit.

So that brings me back to this morning. I can’t believe I FINALLY got a message on Lumen, THE morning I’m writing about it.

10:33 AM

I can’t take it anymore I’m going to read the message. It says his name is Antoine…He looks pretty cute in that tiny, circular avatar that I had to put on my glasses to see. It says he 62. He certainly doesn’t look 62, wait a minute…..

Well….shit…..goddammit.

Its from the CEO of Lumen, telling me I should add photos, and make sure they’re all different! He also wants me to send a message to someone. Doesn’t he realize there’s only one gay man on his app I can message? Oh well, at least the last three hours I waited to open this fucked-up, robot message felt good.

Has my ship sailed? Did I not realize it when they threw me overboard? Didn’t someone once say that fifty was nifty?

To be alone isn’t a dreadful thing for me. Honestly, I kind of like it, though, my empty bed does not. My bed covers wind themselves in knots around me. They suffocate the carefully placed body-pillows I’ve disguised as my lovers. I’m not sure there’s room for anyone else. It would be nice, but I’ve been lucky enough to have been in love and have relationships several times in my life. I’ve experienced both the joy and hell they are capable of. Some were definitely better than others. I should be careful what I wish for.

UPDATE:

As of this publishing, I also received a message on Scruff from a FF Sub BTM. He seems very enthusiastic and even shared three, extra pig snout emojis with me. Alas, I won’t be responding to him either. Sounds exhausting.