I was certain I had tried every conceivable method to find a date. Everything, I say! I have been on multiple dating sites, multiple times. I felt like a lifer with no possibility of parole. Let me out already; I’ve paid my dues over and over. I wrote profiles that were as extensive as an appeal to the Supreme Court. I even tried searching for more exotic ways to describe myself short of my bra size which is that of an 8th grade girl so not “hot” but, depending on your sense of humor, amusing. I considered putting one of my hobbies as watching porn but knew I’d be busted when I said my favorite stars were Rachel, Monica, Ross, Joey and Chandler.
I decided to bribe my friends because one of them had to know a single man
I went so far one year as to resort to bribery. It’s true; I decided to try and bribe my friends, including the mailman (he sees a lot of people, mind you), because one of them had to know a single man. Statistics beg half the adult population is divorced. The question that haunted me was: Where is that half and how come no one I know knows them? That was not possible. I had to investigate further.
I needed a new strategic marketing plan and concluded bribery was incentivizing. I decided to offer either cash or a trip to Paris to the person, including the mailman, who found me an LTR (dating lingo for “long term relationship”). Yes, there’s a special language. The sites had failed me and I was convinced there was nothing like cash or Paris to jolt my friends into action.
“Sorry, honey, we just got back from Paris.” Huh?!
“I never really meet anyone on my route except women.” It figures.
“I’m always busy with the kids and besides don’t know anyone who isn’t married.” Could be lying.
My conclusion: I needed new friends.
It used to be so easy. My dog was a man magnet when I was in my twenties in New York City. Every time out the door my trusty Golden Retriever Jonah brought me a man. Men were everywhere. It was like fishing in a stocked pond. One November afternoon in the middle of Central Park my good luck charm retrieved a husband. And years later in the lobby of The Museum of Modern Art I found a new one on my own. Manhattan was man land!
Things have changed, however, and flash forward forty years: we’re talkin’ a whole different story. The stocked pond has a greenish film and amoebic looking fish. I walk outside with my little rescue dog Tulip and I’m invisible, except to people asking me to join the Church of Scientology or handing me a home improvement flyer. I’m so over.
Speed Dating While Flying
Or am I? I just read about a new way to meet, mingle, and date. Apparently, a Taiwanese airline EVA is up to tricks. Granted, during Covid this is very risky business but conceptually intriguing. It’s time to get off the internet and also the ground! Their slogan is “Fly! Love is in the Air.” Well, in my case it’s got to be a hell of a lot better than my luck on Earth. It’s speed dating while you’re circling the airport in a plane and not in your car searching for parking. Mingle and hook up while masked and flying. Is it hotter to meet a random stranger miles up than on terra firma? I can only hope. You get randomly paired with a seatmate and just maybe that spark or chemistry happens. It makes me nostalgic for the good old days of the Mile High Club. If your seatmate is a bad match there is a fancy gourmet mixer back at the airport to try your luck again with the other daters.
What an exciting prospect, with just one little caveat. I don’t like to fly. For me, it sounds a lot hotter on paper than it would be in the air. To be honest, I have rarely flown totally sober. I’ve been sighted at the airport bar at 6:00 am downing what looks like a healthy glass of orange juice but truthfully it’s disproportionately mixed with not-so-healthy vodka. Barely conscious is my kind of flight. Whoever is my seatmate would get an earful on my fear of flying which lacks a comedic ending. And if we encountered turbulence, crying and cutting off the circulation in his arm might be a deal breaker. He would ultimately be imagining our future vacations in a car.
Although I love the idea of finding love in the air and ridding myself of these earthly bonds of dating sites, I think I would have to sadly wait back at the gate and once again try my luck in the grip of gravity.
Spoiler Alert: I was never a member of the Mile High Club.
Breaking News: Still hoping