Two weeks ago in less than 48 hours I found out I was accepted on the Beautiful People Dating site and 48 hours later I exited. It was a dysfunctional up and down affair for two days with over 30,000 people rating me from: “Hell No- to Hmmm okay” or Are you Kidding? The site’s owner, Greg Hodge claims that over 8.5 million members have been booted off the site for not being attractive enough, and that there are around 750,000 current members. The way the site works is that anyone signs up to be a member, but the judgmental app allows members to rate each other, something that they call a ‘democratic rating system’. Ha!
Let’s face it this site is not on my age demographic scale at all. Most of these applicants are under 35 and wearing less clothing than when I first came into this world. The fact I got in was beyond me, and I refused to pay extra money to see what people said about me. Unlike the Ashley Madison site I wrote about years ago this one is pretty tame. There were few manhood photos — but something pretty strange did happen.
This fellow in San Diego contacted me immediately and said he knew me. I spent a lot of time in California from 1976- 2013 so it could have been anyone. But no, it was someone I knew for about 8 hours in San Francisco in the 1970s. I don’t know about you, but everything seems to come back to haunt me one way or another– in many shapes and forms.
Here it is 2019 and this man seemed to be in the same situation as that evening I met him on a tour bus in San Francisco in 1975. I remembered the meeting just like it was yesterday. I had just been shopping at a vintage store on Market Street and had bought a 1940s Black suit with a long long skirt that had been cut on the bias. It was the first time I had been to San Francisco and decided to take a bus tour of the city. I stuck out on that senior citizen filled bus like a sore thumb, but I was determined to have a good time– and a good time I did.
Just as the bus pulled out this man my age walked on the bus looking like something out of a fashion magazine. He sat down beside me and I think I just about died. His name was Mark and he worked for the famous hair stylist Vidal Sassoon in London, England. He too was in San Francisco for the first time and had the same idea as I did. The British accent, the Mod clothes, and God knows what else had me at hello, what can I say?
Everyone had a super time that night and the senior citizens were hilarious. Mark thought we were a great match, but I have always been a realist, and that sucks sometime –but that’s who I am.
After the bus tour we walked around the downtown area and sat in Union Square talking and well okay, kissing. I was staying near Union Hotel in this rundown historic place called the Mark Twain Hotel. It was originally built as the Linden Hotel in 1928, and the reason I was staying at this fleabag hotel was because blues singer Billie Holiday got arrested in room 203 in 1949 for drug possession. Yes, I asked to be placed in room 203.
Mark seemed to be determined to also stay in room 203 but I was having none of it. His British accent escalated and he began to rant and rave and I knew immediately this would end up becoming a future good brunch story for years to come.
“You know, all me mates all told me that I would have all these “birds in me bed” when I came to America, and it’s not happening, he lamented.
With that this “bird” walked away and never saw him again–until this week. He had moved to America years ago and it looked like he still had not acquired any birds in his bed! He sent me an email saying he could never forget my eyes, and after all these years he knew it was me. Oh Brother!
While I was telling him I was married (even though it was clearly marked on my status) and was doing some undercover journalism I began to wonder if I was like a squirrel– because I seem to attract nuts. Mark continued his email conversation like it was some bad date expressing every bad thing that had happened to him in his life for 40 odd years. I was worried if he was going to slide all this information across the table like he was making an offer or something. Then I realized that some people are like old TV sets- you have to hit them a few times until they get the picture.
I said I had to go and wondered why people join dating sites. Are people that desperate? Has internet dating made you wonder what romance really is now on dating apps these days? Really, is anyone interested in Internet dating, or are they just dating the Internet? Right now, several billion people aren’t dating you. How rude is that?
After running into a bonafide Dr. Phil type scammer, an obsessive person who thought I had been sent by God; I left the site slamming the site door behind me. Sometimes I wonder if they need to put a ‘previous owners’ check list on these dating site applications.
Some days I am grateful that I have lived through the hardships of not being able to Google something or someone. But, you have to admit, that now you can meet and break up with someone who has impressive photoshop skills in the privacy of your own home. Sadly online dating is not like Amazon, there are clearly no returns policy and I think there should be.
where you can buy all Linda Seccaspina’s books-You can also read Linda in The Townships Sun and theSherbrooke Record and and Screamin’ Mamas (USACome and visit the Lanark County Genealogical Society Facebook page– what’s there? Cool old photos–and lots of things interesting to read. Also check out The Tales of Carleton Place. Tales of Almonte and Arnprior Then and Now.
Dating A Farmer — It’s Not All Hearts And Cow Tails
Just Like Internet Dating?— Circa 1913
Because You Loved Me — A Vintage Lanark Romance
Would You Duel Anything For Love?
The McArthur Love Story
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