I’m a writer finishing up a novel. So what’s with the How To website about dating, especially middlesageish dating?
When I started meeting men––or should I call it redating––in my middle ages, I knew nothing. Here are a few of the many things my friends said:
- Don’t take it personally.
- Nothing has changed since we were thirteen.
- There’s a lot of monkeying and ghosting.
- It’s a numbers game.
- Everything has changed since we were thirteen.
- Don’t waste a lot of time emailing.
- Dating online isn’t really dating.
- I wouldn’t use one of those apps that you swipe.
IRL. Ghosting. Slow-fading. Monkeying. Back-burnering?
What did this stuff mean?
Because I figure things out by writing, I wrote about my dates.
Sunny, my main character dated, too––she really didn’t have a choice.
I could have used a little advice back when I went on my first date in twenty years. Not that it’s a big stretch for a writer to go from dating to writing about dating.
But then I started comparing everything I did to dating.
Like I’d be picking out a mango at the supermarket and start thinking about my last date. How I love fresh mangoes, but this guy was more of an orange. Or a persimmon.
My personal best––or worst, depending on how you look at it––six man meets in a week.
The notepads multiplied and became a novel.
The novel, Middle Ageish, reads like a how-to for anyone who’s midage and leery of getting out there.
Out there means dating. Internet dating. Or IRL (in real life) dating.
Start in the produce section by chatting up the balding guy with the ponytail who’s fondling the radicchio.
Seriously. Call it practice.
Psst. My character meets her man at the fish counter.