While JF continues to negotiate with the A-list celebrities, you get me, the blog virgin, Francophile, and South Madison devotee,’ the guaranteed one and only, Teddy Love.
Okay, but first a caveat/pledge. I, the person who has never shown restraint in anything, am pledging here and now, with you, the loyal JFW readers as my witnesses, that I will show enormous restraint in said blog. For one, as a blog virgin I’m just not sure what is bloggable or blog worthy, so I’m going to go slow here (ok, doubtful). For two (hmm), I’m really supposed to be studying for what better be my last prelim exam in social psychology. And of course, what better way to procrastinate, er approach, such a daunting task than to start blogging, move to a new apartment, get divorced, start dating again, and become a SERF afficianado (in no particular order, however all of which I have managed to do in the past 30 days).
So, now that we’ve established some ground rules (wait, this could be my only post! See, I’m already becoming unrestrained), a few thoughts or rather questions that have been running around my head:
1) Would I really date a 25 year old?
A digression is in order here because this very question is what actually led me to blog in the first place. See, a couple of months ago I decided to date men and I figured the place to find some might be Match.com (come on, the social science bldg. is not the biggest dating pool … or is it?). So I wrote this little profile thing (and wrote and rewrote and obsessed some more and wrote and then finally hid the entire profile) for the three day free trial on Match. At any rate, when asked the age range of men I was looking for, without hesitation I typed “25.” I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being 25 of course and indeed some of you may be 25. It’s my math (and possibly more) that may be wrong. As it turns out, somehow, suddenly, 25 is like 17 years away from my own age (I’m still trying to figure out how this happened)!
So, somewhat further digression. My three day free trial resulted in a completely pleasant dinner date and then breakfast a couple of weeks later (these were two discrete events, not one long date with only two meals). He was not 25 but he was cute, interesting, and fun. Then I start getting emails and lots of glossy photos from a man who is 25 and I’m thinking … would I really date a 25 year old even if he is an articulate law school student and part-time model?
But before I could answer, I discovered Nerve/Salon personals. Apparently, this is like the big leagues of hip dating and I’m not sure if I’m ready for this and of course I have to type in the age thing again except now I’m not sure what to say. I mean, even if I would date a 25 year old Nerve/Salon man would he date me with no blogging experience and hardly any practice being 21st century cool and not being at all tragically hip (having just rediscovered a love for the color pink—definitely not tragic—and only last week learning the name of some Star Wars character called Bobba Fleck or Bula Feck or something which I have already forgotten, sorry my dear Dorotha). But wait, I’m not looking for a 25-year old comic book nerd! So then I had the dream about Ashton. A goofy teenaged dream in which I said something like “Oh, Ashton” and then we were kissing except, you guessed it, I was 42 and he was 25. So ok, maybe I could date a 25 year old non comic book nerd. So what should I put in the profile? Do you know the weight, height, and age of the people you want to date (I can barely decide on the gender)? I mean, not some kind of gestalt vision, but the actual numbers? Would you actually commit to some, then have the person of your dreams click right by because they were say only 5’4” and a half? I mean, how do these numbers work? Are they rules? Norms? Roles? Attitudes? Beliefs? Schema? Yeah, yeah, okay … prelim study is calling.
So, the question remains unanswered. But I thought it might at least get some attention (if not an answer) as my headline (oh yeah, check out the profile I started last night particularly if you have any interest in knowing the five things I could not live without). So this is blogging, huh?
p.s. for any of you looking to meet sweaty, testosterone-filled men younger than 25 (who appear to be at least momentarily sober), the SERF weight room around 6 p.m. appears to be your best bet.
p.s.s. for any of you looking for neo-burlesque, i.e., feminist women of all ages, shapes, and sizes, doing song, dance, comedy, and a little strip tease don’t miss the Cherry Pop Tarts and my friend Lonnie, their producer/emcee, on July 23 and 24 at the Club Majestic.