It’s early evening and I’m reflecting on this past busy week while sipping wine with a straw. No, it’s not a new trend in drinking and in case any horrified sommeliers are wondering, my straw is not even made from glass. Excuse me while I digress and delete the profile of a God-fearing scammer who just messaged me. Just like swatting mosquitos.
Before I tell you about my week and explain the wine with a straw, let’s share some Passover-themed matzo brei . I like to add chopped fresh spinach or chard to the mixture before cooking. Have some wine too. Straw optional.
Since this blog has a focus on dating, I’ll start with a review of current dating prospects. On Tuesday, after deleting and reporting two Coffee Meets Bagel scammers, I “matched” with Mr. A, a real life non-scammer! He sent a clever opening question and we bantered a bit (my favorite) while I skillfully directed our conversation to an in-person meeting over a glass of wine (no, this is not the straw story).
We exchanged phone numbers and email addresses, which is why I’m pretty sure Mr. A is a real boy! Man, that is, though he is younger. Since Mr. A’s email address is his name, it was easy to Google him. His pictures and profile lined up. We’re meeting this week.
If you know me, please don’t ask me about this date. Mr. A could revoke me before we meet or we could have a one-date relationship. I’ll tell you IF/WHEN there is anything worth reporting. Even if this date goes nowhere, I’m enjoying a feeling of HOPE.
Other dating prospects fell by the wayside due to catfishing/scamming, illiteracy, religious dogma, height, and one-sided Bumble interrogation. With the BUMBLE dating app, if both parties like each other, only the woman can initiate a conversation. The man I matched on Bumble this week responded to my initial message but didn’t ask me a question back. So I served a couple more times; he wouldn’t volley. He answered my questions but failed to ask one thing about me – or even comment on my profile or photo. So finally, feeling angry, I asked him what he liked in my profile. After a day, he responded: reading, music, and cooking. I was tempted to say, “Are you the strong, silent type or do you just have trouble typing on tiny phone keyboards?” Instead, I asked, “Do you like those three things too? What type of music do you enjoy?” I’m waiting for a response. I may have to use my strong, silent line if this goes on much longer. I am losing patience.
I am classed out (not outclassed, you snide ones). Last Sunday, I went to my hip-hop dance class. Yes, I’m the oldest in the class and have to temper certain moves based on orthopedic issues but still, there’s nothing like channeling your inner Beyoncé once in a while. I call my version, Twerk Lite.
Then on Tuesday, I tried out a beginning Tango class with a female friend. The class consisted of two couples; my friend; an advanced female student helper; Sergio, the Argentinian teacher; and me. When Sergio partnered with me, he came up to my mid-chest. Not the stuff of romantic dreams. Height aside, I found tango more challenging than hip-hop.
On Wednesday, in an effort to improve my pathetic swimming skills, I test-swam a swimming instructor. I’m not sure we’re a fit since she had a very unique way of doing the free style. It may be so unique as to be unheard of in swimming circles. Still, it was a nice reminder of the joys of swimming and the coming summer season.
My final class of the week was Spanish. No body movement in this one – other than to furiously rifle through the text to check an answer in anticipation of being called on. It’s a déjà vu experience to be in a Spanish class again after so many years. Most of my classmates are in the boomer age range. For the first half dozen classes, we felt nervous and confused (also because the teacher is not that good). Now, we’re more confident and, just as important, we laugh and enjoy an easy camaraderie.
The Kicker of This Story
¿Por qué estaba bebiendo vino con una paja? (Why was I drinking wine with a straw?). I overdosed on chewing gum and lemon. An odd combination but I was trying to curb my appetite and eat lightly and found myself chewing packs of gum and putting extraordinary amounts of lemon juice on enormous salads. The combination of the acidic lemon and the sweet gum gave me what can only be described as a nasty inflamed taste bud. Hence, the wine with a straw.
What I’m really worried about is that, when I meet Mr. A this week, and should the mood be right, I won’t be able to kiss him properly.
Now, that would be a hardship.
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Until next week, happy dating or not dating.