Dear, dear gents….as you should know by now, the ways of love are often subtle. A shy glance, the illicit glimpse of an ankle, a lacy handkerchief allowed to flutter to the floor - such is the dance of flirtation.
But dear gents, the dance of rejection is much less subtle. It is the difference between the Bolshoi Ballet and a crowd of youngsters doing hip-hop at a rave. It is blatant, loud, and difficult to willfully ignore - unless, of course, you are one of Miss Adventures’ erstwhile admirers.
In addition to Gentleman Jack (who thankfully, has not been back), readers may recall Montana Glen; he who delivered a rather epic rant when Miss Adventures dared to ask him a question. (Miss Adventures confesses to being a rather uppity sort of woman, the kind who strikes fear into the hearts of those who seek to legislate away her ability to make decisions by using her very own brain cells).
Yes, THAT Montana Glen - the very same gent who just yesterday, sent Miss Adventures an inquiry as to whether she had yet found herself a “real man”.
Miss Adventures does not kiss and tell, nor is she prepared to debate the relative manliness of her conquests with previously-spurned suitors. She knows one thing for sure, though - Montana Glen needs to turn up the volume on that hip-hop track.
Miss Adventures is generally a patient soul. Her upbringing in the parish developed in her a tolerance for those souls who find the music of their own long-winded droning akin to the singing of the angelic choirs. In brief, it takes a fair amount to provoke her to withering refusal.
Enter - or perhaps a more correct term would be “re-enter” - Gentleman Jack. Upon receiving yet another voice mail from this persistent gent, Miss Adventures sent a message of her own, asking him to please cease in his efforts to contact her as she did not feel there was a match.
The word “cease” obviously translated differently to Gentleman Jack, whose next message contained a plaintive rebuttal that Miss Adventures had provided her number and he was surprised by her refusal since they had yet to speak.
Miss A. was thus forced to explain to Gentleman Jack that they had, in fact, spoken at great length. Apparently her conversational abilities were less memorable than previously suspected, or possibly the gentleman’s brain cells were less abundant than previously hoped for.
Miss Adventures feels a bit badly that she was forced to take rather harsh measures to rid herself of a gent who remained oblivious to gentler methods of persuasion. She is, however, balancing her regret by quite enjoying a sense of peace. And quiet.
Hey pretty lady :)
I know you said you date close to your age. But you never know unless you try.
I usually date older women (40+). Its just what I’m attracted too.
So many girls these days are just filled with drama or don’t have their life figured out.
And I’m looking for a woman.
I may look young, but I’m all Man over here.
I’m perfectly fine with getting to know each other first as sex is not why I’m on here.
Miss Adventures is flattered. Really, she is. However, since she does have her life pretty much “figured out”, there are a few things of which she wishes you to be aware:
Given that you have achieved the ripe old age of twenty, please be advised that Miss Adventures has kitchen appliances which pre-date you. Actually, she probably has accessories which pre-date you.
Being as Miss Adventures has been occupied with raising a boy-child of her own, she is pretty familiar with how they function. She assures you, dear child, that you are not yet “all man”, despite what that busy little member behind your pants zipper may have encouraged you to believe.
“Forty-plus” is a far cry from “fifty-plus”, as you will learn in thirty years. We will all be most anxious to hear how you feel about dating eighty-year-olds at that point.
Miss Adventures begs to differ with your assertion that “sex is not why I’m on here.” Dear one, sex is the raison d’etre for the entire existence of a young man of two score. She suggests that you find someone closer to your own age with whom to enjoy it. Preferably before your prostate starts acting up.
Miss Adventures is not a fan of violence. As someone who has lived alone for quite a number of moons, she eschews horror movies and gory novels. She neither hunts nor nor owns a gun (although she does keep a very heavy baseball bat behind her headboard, lest you get any bright ideas.) She may, however, find herself in need of a silver bullet. A crucifix and/or a wooden stake might also come in handy.
Some gentlemen can’t take a hint, even when it arrives wrapped in a completely non-responsive package. Faithful readers may remember Jack, he of the art collection and loquacious telephone call. They may recall Miss Adventures’ surprise upon subsequently receiving a voice mail message from the gentleman in question, and may be even more surprised to learn that he continues to call and leave messages at least weekly, despite having never received a return call from Miss Adventures, whose instincts in these matters are rarely wrong.
Miss A. does not flatter herself that her wittiness on a single telephone call caused the gentleman to become smitten with her, sight unseen. Her thesis has more to do with the gentleman’s desperation than with the lady’s charms. She does not, however, enjoy being the object of Gentleman Jack’s pursuit. She fears absentmindedly answering her phone one day, only to be greeted with a verbal torrent so intense that it precludes her ability to remain afloat.
Having already blocked the gent from contacting her on the dating site, she continues to investigate options which might allow her to block his telephone contact as well. Barring her success in this area, might anyone have a silver bullet she could borrow? Or perhaps a stylish necklace of garlic?
Miss Adventures understands that your youth (20! good heavens, she has cellulite older than you are!) may have resulted in the impairment of your language abilities. You may believe, perchance, that the “text speak” which proved enticing to your high school inamorata would serve you equally well here in the grown-up world.
She guarantees you that your shirtless picture is less impressive to her than your use of a dictionary would be. Off you go, then, back to the mall where you will find others who speak your language. It is her fervent hope that your messages will inspire in them passion rather than “lolz”.
Miss Adventures has much appreciated your accompanying her during the trials and tribulations of her foray into the online dating world. She has decided that real life holds more appeal than cyber-dating, and as such, she is going to be pursuing other social avenues.
While she will no longer be posting on a daily basis, she does intend to recap certain adventures (at least, those which are fit for print in a public forum). As always, she is happy to hear, and to share with your permission, the stories of your dating adventures as well.
Thank you for your support of her endeavors, and know that she will still pop in whenever the fancy strikes her.
With deepest affection,
Your Miss Adventures
Miss Adventures periodically hides her dating profiles. This accomplishes two things:
1) The site algorithm “notices” Miss Adventures’ absence and is apt to greet her with increased activity when she returns, and
2) Miss Adventures obtains a much-needed respite during which she can get a pedicure, clean the gutters, or pursue other exciting activities.
Upon flipping her profile to public viewing recently, Miss A. was greeted by a message from “tangoguy”, who enquired whether she might be “interested in a night or two of pleasure.” Miss Adventures suspects that tangoguy either found someone desperate enough to take him up on his offer, or, more likely, that he was sending broadcast emails to quite a few women on the site. She suspects this because, by the time she picked up the message, tangoguy’s profile had been disabled and his photograph removed.
On the off chance that this gent is a reader of blogs between trysts, Miss Adventures would like him to know that her definition of a night of pleasure is doubtless quite different from his. His seems to involve no-strings-attached sexual liaisons with strange women who have terribly low self-esteem, while hers involves a jacuzzi, a full moon, and a chilled bottle of pear cider. She will be pursuing such an evening now, while tangoguy dances off somewhere. Alone, no doubt.
“Is that really your body?”
No, dear sir, it is not. Miss Adventures has managed to do what neither science nor Photoshop could - attach the body of another human to her very own head.
Apologies, dear readers. Please give your Miss Adventures a moment to collect herself. After answering this inquiry for the umpteenth time, you may find it difficult to believe that she has grown a tad snippy. There, now….all better.
Yes, Miss Adventures’ profile does contain a full-length picture of her. (And yes, of course it is a picture of her fully clothed personage, the Internet not being a very safe place to store anything of a more dubious nature). Miss Adventures frequently receives emails from rather forward gents who have obviously skipped over all of those annoying wordy things in the profile and have gone straight to the pictures, which they proceed to critique with gusto. Gents seem particularly obsessed with the full length picture, and find it difficult to believe that a 52-year-old woman might be in any sort of shape which does not resemble “round”. Miss Adventures is often the recipient of emails asking “is that really you?”
Miss Adventures does not believe that she is unique. She sees many women at the gym and on the jogging trail who demonstrate a commitment to their physical health. She is sure that at least some of those women maintain profiles on dating sites. Dear gents, if you want to be sure that our photographs faithfully represent our physiques, she has a suggestion for you: ask us out on a date. You know, in real, living technicolor.
Miss Adventures is aware that you believe being “separated” to be the same as being “divorced”. She does not share your belief.
For one thing, you are still legally married. It wouldn’t be unheard of for you to decide to reconcile (for the sake of the children, the dog, or the Mercedes in the driveway of that big new house). It would also not be unheard of for your soon-to-be-ex to empty your bank account, set fire to your possessions, report you to the local authorities, and flee the state. Miss Adventures has seen quite enough of that drama from a distance, and is not interested in living it up close and personal. Nor does she wish to be one of those disheveled women stammering, “I don’t even know her!” when cornered by a perky news person, as your crazy knife-wielding ex is led away in cuffs.
She appreciates your interest, dear sir, and will tell you the same thing she says to all the separated gents who contact her: “Please let me know when your divorce is final”. She does not expect that you will.