Discernment with a Side of Fatigue

January 3, 2026January 3, 2026 Heather Kight2 Comments

According to Match.com, January 4th is supposed to be their busiest day of the year.

I took the bait and decided to peruse. And peruse. And … sigh. You get the picture.

After receiving a “like” from a spot-on candidate for Red Flag Friday, I cranked up the computer, fully prepared to whip up the latest witty exposé. Then suddenly, I was tired.

Tired of scrolling.
Tired of swiping.
Tired of what feels like a big joke.
Just … tired.

There are times (like tonight) when I swear there are zero acceptable matches anywhere on the internet. Posts and profiles that deserve nothing more than an eye roll somehow pick and pull at my self-esteem. Guys who wear tank tops in bathroom selfies and definitely failed Grammar & Punctuation 101 send me messages and “likes.” But it’s not about those who are attracted to me.

It’s about those who aren’t.

In Metro-Atlanta, there are 6.09 million people. I have no clue how many of those people are online looking for a genuine connection leading to a serious relationship. Seems like the odds should be pretty good.

So why am I being directed to the equivalent of the $5 movie bin at Walmart?

My favorite movie is Sleepless in Seattle from 1993. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in their rom-com glory. One quote in particular — the one I’d like to believe — is this:

Image of Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle, displaying a quote from the film. Source: www.magicalquote.com. — *Source:* *http://www.magicalquote.com*

However, given the virtual rocky road that continuously leads to exhibits for Red Flag Friday, I’m more prone to believe …

Cartoon of two middle-aged women at a café, one with coffee and one with wine, exchanging confused looks and shrugging as question marks appear above their heads. A phone and dessert sit on the table, suggesting a baffling conversation.

“It’s easier to be killed by a terrorist than it is to find a husband over the age of 40!”

That statistic is not true.

That’s right, it’s not true. It only feels true.

— Sleepless in Seattle

Ladies and gents, maybe you’re in the same boat where the rule of metaphorical fishing is catch and release.
Maybe you run headfirst into a wall decorated with red flags, scammers, and a whole lotta “bless his heart.”
And perhaps — like me — you quietly ask, “What’s wrong with me?”

Listen to me …
Close the app.
Take a deep breath.
Exhale slowly.

If you take away one thing from today’s post, let it be this:

There are zero acceptable matches online today.
Which is not the same thing as ever.

The truth is, the internet is crowded with auditions, not partners.
Many profiles read like they were assembled by raccoons with Wi-Fi.
And the cocktail of chemistry, emotional intelligence, self-awareness, and punctuation is… tragically small.
You’re not failing at dating.
You’re outgrowing the nonsense.

I, for one, refuse to settle for nonsense, just okay, or “well … maybe.”
Nor should you.

It’s beyond brave to open our hearts to love after loss.
That courage deserves to be met with honor and respect.
YOU deserve nothing less.

I’ll keep wading through the shallow end of the dating pool — rolling eyes, blessing hearts, and trying not to take those quirky algorithms too seriously or too personally. In spite of the occasional pity party, I am truly grateful that God says, “Not today, Satan” and keeps me from anyone unworthy of all the sass and sweetness that is unapologetically me.

Dating After Dignity · Menopause & Mischief · Red Flags & Walking Punchlines

🚩 Red Flag Friday: The Department of “Government”

December 26, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

Welcome back to Menopause & Malarkey, where it’s Friday night, dinner’s been eaten and dogs are sleepin’, and once again… the internet has audacity.

Tonight’s specimen arrived wrapped in good looks, thoughtful prompts, and the emotional vocabulary of someone who clearly owns at least one throw pillow.

He laughs at inside jokes.
Believes in loyalty.
Loves deeply.
Builds real connections.
Even listed The Grapes of Wrath as a favorite book.
I paused. I considered. I adjusted my glasses.

Then I saw his employment.

Government.

Just… Government.
Not city, not state, not federal.

Not “I work for the county and complain about meetings.”
Just Government—like a manila folder with secrets inside.

🚩 Flag raised.

But wait—there’s more.

Within moments, I received a message that read (and I paraphrase only slightly):

“Hello Heather, I would love to get to know you better and maybe become friends or more. Please contact me immediately via Gmail or WhatsApp.”

Ah yes.
Ye olde eHarmony-to-WhatsApp migration.
A classic move straight out of the Scammer Starter Kit.

Side-by-side illustration of an online dating red flag. One side shows a charming, well-dressed man reading The Grapes of Wrath with a glass of wine by a cozy fireplace. The other side reveals the same man as a hoodie-wearing scammer juggling a phone, laptop, and cash. Caption contrasts “What he wants you to think” versus “But in reality.” — *Red Flag Friday reminder: nice photos don’t equal nice intentions.*

Let’s review the Red Flags, shall we?
🚩 Employment listed as “Government”
🚩 Immediate request to move off the platform
🚩 Email + WhatsApp combo platter
🚩 Phone number typed like a Sudoku puzzle
🚩 Not a single reference to my actual profile
🚩 Polite, generic, emotionally fluent… and entirely hollow

This, my friends, is why the phrase, “Not today, Satan” was invented.

Handsome? Yes.
Convincing? Almost.
Genuine? Absolutely not.

Here’s the thing:
We are not cynical—we are experienced.
We are not bitter—we are efficient.
And we are no longer entertaining men whose profiles read like romance novels but whose intentions collapse under basic scrutiny.

So tonight’s Red Flag Friday reminder is this:
✨ If his employment could not be verified by Google, LinkedIn, or common sense…
✨ If he wants to flee the app faster than a bra at the end of the day 🏆
✨ If his message could have been sent to 47 other women named Heather
—then bless him, block him, and move on.

Graphic with white text on a charcoal background reading, “Bless him, block him, and move on.” Menopause & Malarkey watermark in the corner.

Because we are not lonely.
We are discerning.
And our BS detectors are fully operational.

Happy Red Flag Friday, ladies and gents. See you next week—same sass, fewer scams. 😏🚩

Menopause & Mischief · Red Flags & Walking Punchlines

Red Flag Friday Presents: A License to Chill

December 19, 2025December 18, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

Mind Your Business, Mr. Bond

Every now and then, the apps present a man who seems less like a potential date and more like an audition tape.

Ladies, meet:
“The Man Who Wants You to Say ‘Hi’ — and Nothing Else.”

🎩 The Photos

We’re treated to a three-act visual experience:

Formal suit, pocket square, intense stare
– James Bond energy
– But like… the villain who gets caught monologuing
Tuxedo at night, harsh lighting
– Not “date night”
– Very much “last known photo before the plot twist”
Car selfie with eyes that say “You noticed me.”
– Sir. I did not ask to be noticed this way.

A dramatic black-and-white, film noir–style portrait of a middle-aged man in a tuxedo, staring intensely into the camera under low lighting. The image evokes classic crime drama and mystery, with a moody, ominous tone. — *If your profile makes me wonder whether my body would be discovered by hikers or fishermen… that’s a no.*

The Bio (Where Things Take a Turn)

Let’s highlight a few selections from the Gentleman’s Handbook of Red Flags:

“My love language is quality time and physical touch.”
Translation: If you’ve got the time, I’ve got the touch.

“I give awesome hugs and am a great kisser 💋”
I expected to see, “References provided upon request.”

“Let’s not learn everything about one another right now.”
Based on what I’ve read thus far, you’d rather take your lip balm for a test run.

“If you’re just looking for a chat buddy, I’m not the one.”
Oh, honey, you’re not “the one” for so many reasons.

🧳 Occupation:

Professional at: Mind Your Business

In the immortal words of renowned philosopher Charles Brown: “Good grief.”

Final Verdict

This is not James Bond.
This is not the hero.
This is the guy Bond throws off a balcony in Monaco while adjusting his cufflinks.

Carry on, Moneypenny. 🍸

Dating After Dignity · Menopause & Mischief

Tired Tuesday: The Geographically Challenged

December 9, 2025December 9, 2025 Heather Kight1 Comment

Some nights, the date-iverse is too much to handle.

Scratch that.

MOST nights of seeking a genuine connection via dating apps in 2025 are uninspired.

I have reached the point where I don’t visit the Kmart clearance rack of poor punctuation and shirtless shenanigans unless I receive a notification. (Hmm, wonder if I can assign an ominous tone to it 🤔) But, I digress.

In four days, my subscription to Chapter 2 (a site specifically for widows and widowers) will expire. I shan’t be renewing. Not that I have anything against the site; I’m just, well, tired.

Four days until the finish line.

Still plenty of time for interested suitors to come a-callin’.

So when a message popped up, I took a gander at his profile.

Scott.
Nice-looking Scott.
Normal-message Scott.
Potentially trustworthy Scott.
But… Utah Scott.

For the love of GPS.

When you’re the emotional support airplane for a woman who keeps getting matched with men 1,600 miles away.

My reply was polite.

“Thank you, but 1,600 miles isn’t conducive to building a relationship.”

His response, also cordial, carried the aroma of snowflakes, cocoa, and Hallmark. ❄️☕️💕

“If two hearts connect, no distance is too far.”

Sir. I am 55 years old. Driving down the street to Kroger is too far. 🚗🤷🏼‍♀️

As humorous as “Men without Maps” can be, the truth is —

It makes me sad. I find myself sitting here contemplating if a long distance friendship could be possible. But then I ask, what if he’s another scammer with a decent grasp of grammar?

That right there — that exact emotional seesaw — is the honest human cost of dating in 2025.

It’s not just frustration.
It’s not just annoyance.
It’s not even the exhaustion of dodging Keith Sweat disciples, and men whose job title is “Boss at Self-Employed.”

It’s the sadness beneath the snark.
That little ache of:

“What if he’s real?”
versus
“What if he’s not?”

Ladies, if you’re rowing in this boat too, listen up:

You’re not soft for thinking it.
You’re not foolish.
You’re not naïve.
You’re human.
You’ve lost real love.
You’ve lived real life.
You know what connection feels like — and how rare it is.

So when someone shows up sounding…
normal,
kind,
respectful,
gentle,
and not shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror …
your heart can’t help but tilt its head a little.

Because part of you wants to believe a good man might still exist — even if he’s 1,600 miles away, even if he’s just a pleasant blip in the algorithmic chaos.

But then?

The reality of dating in 2025 barges in wearing a name tag, shouting:

“SCAMMER! FLUNKED GEOGRAPHY & CARTOGRAPHY! TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!”

And you’re left in limbo between hope and heartbreak, without ever having met the man.

It’s the quiet sadness of:

“I don’t want to be played. ”

“I don’t want to be disappointed.”

“I don’t want to waste emotional energy.”

“I don’t want to be fooled.”

“But… what if he was just nice?”

It’s the emotional equivalent of standing at the window watching birds —
one might be beautiful,
but at any moment it could squawk, steal your fries, and fly away.

Still…
there’s something tender in you wanting to believe in friendship.
That’s not weakness.
That’s wisdom wearing softness.
That’s a heart with miles on it — but still open enough to feel.

Dating After Dignity · Menopause & Mischief · Red Flags & Walking Punchlines

🚩Red Flag Friday: The Keith Sweat-ing Glamour Cowboy Edition🤠

December 5, 2025December 5, 2025 Heather Kight2 Comments

Brought to you by Menopause & Malarkey — where the flags are many and the patience is limited.

Ladies… I present to you a man who is:

“Boss at Self-Employed”
(Translation: The boss, the employee, the HR department, and also currently on an unpaid lunch break… indefinitely.)

80 miles away but behaving like we’re all just out here ready to road-trip for romance like it’s 1995.

And — be still my heart — his entire music section is Keith Sweat.
Not a sprinkle.
Not a vibe.
Not a nostalgic “one song on a playlist.”
No, ma’am.
Keith. Sweat. Or. Bust.
This man is out here preparing to beg somebody through a cassette deck.

But wait… the photos.

Ohhh, the photos.

We have:

• The Glamour Cowboy:
A wide-brimmed hat, aviators, and a shirt so bright it’s gotta wear shades.
He’s giving “Line dancing at noon, sermon at three, vibes by Keith Sweat at five.”

• The Close-Up That Didn’t Need to Be a Close-Up:
Half a forehead.
Part of a visor.
A sprinkle of existential dread.
Thank you for this offering.

• The Truck Cab Philosophical Hour:
“Cool drama free cool as a fan”
(Sir… you wrote “cool” twice. And for that reason alone, I have questions.)

And yet — YET — the best part?

He proudly lists Beauty as an interest.

BEAUTY.
Dude, you are Keith-Sweat-ing in a Ford F-150 with an Instagram filter from 2013.

—

Verdict:

🚩🚩🚩MULTIPACK RED FLAGS.
We’re talking Costco-level quantities.

Would I swipe right?
No.

Would I make a meme out of him?
Already did.

Some men come with careers, ambition, and financial stability.
Others come with Keith Sweat, a cowboy hat, and a mysterious lack of tax documents.
Choose wisely. 😔🔥

Menopause & Mischief · Red Flags & Walking Punchlines

🔥 M&M: The Case of the Almost-Perfect Candidate … Until …

November 24, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

Ladies… gather ‘round.
Because today’s roast is brought to you by:

Hope.
Disappointment.
And a man who went from “ooh la-la” to “oh no, no” in two seconds flat.

Let me set the scene:
Facebook Dating serves me up a cutie pie. (Who, by the way, was categorized as a “perfect match.”)
Not “eh, he’ll do.”
Not “maybe if the light is forgiving.”

No.
This one was legit cute:

Good smile
Local
Normal hobbies
Age-appropriate
No up-the-nose or on-the-bed selfies
Looked like his mother raised him with soap and manners

I thought,
“Well butter my biscuit and call me hopeful…”

For a few glorious minutes, I believed.

Then—
THEN—

Sir Flirt-a-Lot answered the prompt:

“What’s your favorite time of day?”
with:

✨😏 “SEXY TIME” 😏✨

Right above the “My shades are cool, and my abs are hot” topless beach pic.

SIR.
There I was, enjoying your adorable grin, your puppy photo, your backyard sunshine…
And suddenly you hit me with a whiplash-inducing combo of:

“Look how sweet and normal I am!”
followed immediately by
“HERE ARE MY PECS AND MY INTENTIONS.”

*So close and yet so far … off the mark.*

Let me be extremely clear:

SEXY TIME
…is not a time of day.
It is an ick.
A category.
A hazard.
A sign from the heavens that says:
“Abort mission, Heather. This man has no internal editor.”

You know what it felt like?

Like I ordered a Chick-fil-A sandwich and halfway through found a live scorpion wearing sunglasses. 🕶️

Everything was perfect.
I was rooting for him.
ROOTING.
And then—
like a child in the church Christmas program repeating the cuss word Mommy muttered earlier—
he proudly typed:

SEXY.
TIME.

With the emoji. 😏
THE EMOJI.

I went from:
😌 “Oh wow, what a cutie.”
to
🫠 “Sir, why?”
to
💀 “We cannot date. Ever.”

in 0.4 seconds.

Like… why do they DO this?

Why is it that right when I’m thinking,
“Ohhh, he seems normal,”
a man will suddenly fling out the word SEXY TIME like he chose “Inappropriate Pick-up Lines for 100, Alex” on Jeopardy.

It’s always when you least expect it.

He’s giving:
• Golden Retriever energy
• Family-man vibes
• Would help you carry in the groceries
• Might even remember your birthday

In reality, he’s:
• Answering normal prompts with unnecessary levels of testosterone
• Displaying more sweat and sunscreen than any photo should capture
• Abandoning all filters and foresight
• Utilizing “the ole bait ‘n switch” to perfection

Instant downgrade to:

🏅 Honorable Mention:

The Almost That Absolutely Isn’t.

Because here’s the truth:

A man can look like sweet tea and sunshine…
but if “sexy time” is his favorite time of day?
Sir, you may exit (in true Beyoncé fashion) — to the left, to the left.

Menopause & Mischief · Red Flags & Walking Punchlines

Geographically Challenged Royalty

November 14, 2025November 13, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

Most men I know are great with geography and have an innate instinct for getting un-lost. They can sniff the direction of a highway exit like bloodhounds. They can find a shortcut through three cornfields and two gravel roads without a single wrong turn. My late husband, Steve, proudly reigned as “King of the Backroads.”

But online dating geography reminds me of how my dad used to pack the trunk for long trips. “It’ll fit in there if you stack the luggage like this.”

These guys genuinely believe: “If I angle this map in my mind just right… geography will bend to my will.”

No, it will not. Geography is not Tetris. Distance isn’t shortened simply because you say so.

Menopause & Malarkey graphic from Geography to the online dating community. — *Just … stop.*

Directions Aren’t Suggestions

I received a message this week from a gentleman we’ll call King George.

King George seemed perfectly pleasant at first.
Location? King George, Virginia.
Message? Polite. Warm. Normal enough to lower my swipe-defense shield. Asked what I like most about living in Georgia.

So I responded with equal kindness:
“You seem nice, but the distance is too far.”

A perfectly reasonable, grown-woman boundary, right?

Apparently not.

This man — this adult human with a functioning smartphone and Google Maps baked into it — replies with:

“Well, King George is closer to Pennsylvania.”

Sir.

SIR. 🤦‍♀️

What part of “I live in GEORGIA” was unclear?
What math, what map, what alternate reality was consulted for this mental malarkey?

This is not “new math.”
This is New Geography, where states migrate, distances don’t exist, and all roads magically lead to your inbox.

Let’s illustrate the logic here:

Heather: “You’re too far.”
King George: “BUT IF YOU SQUINT AND TILT THE MAP—”
Geography: throws hands up and shouts, “I got nothin’.”

Listen, I admire optimism. Truly.
But unless I wake up tomorrow as the mayor of Pennsylvania, this argument needs to take a seat.

Meme of King George III from “Hamilton” with a Princess Bride quote poking fun at a dating app match who misjudges geography, referencing King George, VA and Georgia. Branded Red Flag Friday graphic from Menopause & Malarkey. — *“New Math was wild. New Geography is feral.”*

Old Cinematography vs. New Geography

This entire exchange reminds me of my favorite move, Sleepless in Seattle. Tom Hanks, Meg Ryan … pure 90s rom-com perfection. There’s a scene where Sam (Tom Hanks) is arguing with his son, Jonah, about meeting Annie (Meg Ryan) who lives in Baltimore. Pulling down a wall-sized map (because hey, we all have one of those in the dining room, right?), Sam points to Seattle, then to Baltimore, and emphatically explains that “there are like, 26 states between here and there!”

That scene is literally the opposite of Dating App Logic:

“Three states away? Close.”
“Seven-hour drive? Practically next door.”
“Opposite ends of Virginia? Same neighborhood.”
“East Coast? West Coast? Tomato, tomahto.”

Meanwhile I’m over here with Sam’s wall map declaring:

“Sir, unless you’ve discovered teleportation, that is NOT close.”

And I don’t care how many times I’ve cried during An Affair to Remember — I’m NOT going to the Empire State Building on Valentine’s Day to meet “Mr. Right” who turns out to be “Mr. Wrong Directions.”

💭 Picture, if you will …

King George:
“Babe, I’m here!”
— text from the Space Needle.

Because in Dating App Geography:

New York, Seattle… “What? They’re both big cities.”
“Empire State Building” = “the tall one, right?”
East Coast, West Coast, Potato, Potahto.

Meanwhile, I’m standing in the icy February wind, clinging to my dignity and a latte, and he’s out there taking blurry selfies three thousand miles away like:

“Traffic was crazy, but I made it!”

Sir.
No.
No, you did not.
You crossed the wrong time zone, let alone the wrong building.

👀 I can see it now …

King George: (still in Seattle, still blissfully unaware)
“Yeah babe, I’m lookin’ right at it—big, tall, pointy thing. Sorta shiny. Totally iconic. I’ll meet you at the top.”

Heather:
“…Sir. That is the Space Needle.”

King George:
“Same difference.”

Heather:
“Mm. Okay. Well, when you find me, we can drive north to Tennessee and sail across the Phoenix Ocean.”

M&M Moral of the Week

If your opening move includes:

📌 Ignoring geography
📌 Rewriting geography
📌 Inventing new geography

…that’s a hard swipe left, my friend.

I want a man who respects boundaries — emotional and geographical.
If you think Georgia is next door to Virginia because you wish it were (and, more importantly, because “VA is close to PA”) … you might be the reason I shake my head and close the app.

Heatheresque Closing 💅🏻

Dating after 40 requires patience, humor, and apparently, remedial map skills.
But here’s the thing:
Every confused King George reminds me why I’m writing this blog in the first place.

Because somewhere out there is a woman reading this, nodding so hard she spills her coffee, whispering, “Oh thank GOD it’s not just me.”

And somewhere out there?
Maybe — just maybe — is a man who can read a map. 🗺️🔍

Dating After Dignity · Menopause & Mischief · Red Flags & Walking Punchlines

Midweek Malarkey: Tony and the Tub Time Twist

November 12, 2025January 5, 2026 Heather KightLeave a comment

Square graphic for Menopause & Malarkey’s “Midweek Malarkey: The Blooper Reel of Modern Romance.” Coral and cream text on a charcoal background with playful design accents and tagline, “Because every near-miss deserves a laugh.”

It’s kinda sad that all I had to do was open Match and start scrolling.

Today’s “Ah, man, I was rooting for you!” award goes to Tony, age 50.

Initial reaction:

Photos? ✔️

Location? ✔️

Complete bio? ✔️

Compatible? ✔️

My thumb was about to swipe Tony into the digital land of possibility when I read it.

The prompt:

“For me, a good day isn’t complete without …”

The answer:

“My dog and a hot bath.”

Now, perhaps he meant to type, “spending time with my dog — I also like to relax later on with a hot bath.”

Perhaps.

But all I can picture is a sturdy, six-foot gentleman surrounded by bubbles, sipping a glass of wine, and locking eyes with his faithful pup across the tub. In complete, candlelit silence.

Don’t you dare deny it — you pictured it too.

Playful cartoon illustration in coral, cream, and charcoal colors for Menopause & Malarkey. A bald man with a goatee relaxes in a large bubble bath, holding a glass of wine, while his dog sits across from him in the tub surrounded by bubbles and a rubber duck. Caption reads, “For me, a good day isn’t complete without… my dog and a hot bath.”

And somewhere in that sudsy, surreal moment, my finger found its way back to safety. Swipe left, my friends. Swipe left.

Because in the dating world, there’s clean … and then there’s too clean. 🛁🐾

Menopause & Mischief

The Sonnet of The Soggy Fries

November 10, 2025November 9, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

🍟 Mischief Monday: When Creativity Ate My Dinner

It all started innocently enough: I sat down to write just one more paragraph. You know, the famous last words of every writer who’s ever burned a meal, missed a meeting, or forgotten her own name.

Somewhere between “this line could be funnier” and “I should proofread that one more time,” my dinner arrived — a glorious cheesesteak and sweet-potato-fries combo, still sizzling when it landed on my doorstep.

And there it sat.

For forty.
Whole.
Minutes.

I only remembered when Phoebe and Maggie started their pre-walk wiggle dance, and I opened the door to what can only be described as a tragic culinary crime scene.

Cold cheese. Congealed grease. Fries that had given up all will to live.

It wasn’t dinner anymore — it was a cautionary tale.

💡 The Lesson (If We Can Call It That)

Writing can feed the soul, but it also starves the body. Somewhere out there, a DoorDash driver thinks I’m dead, and honestly, I can’t even be mad about it.

Because when the words come, you chase them. Even if that means eating sweet-potato fries that are soggy with regret.

✍️ Moral of the Story

The next time you tell yourself, “I’ll grab my food in a minute,” remember: a minute in writer-time equals forty in real-world minutes.

Still, I’ll take cold fries and a good paragraph over hot food and no ideas any day.

Menopause & Malarkey
Because sometimes inspiration strikes… and dinner dies. 💋

Dating After Dignity · Menopause & Mischief · Red Flags & Walking Punchlines · The Front Porch Swing

🎉500!

November 8, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

Menopause & Malarkey just hit 500 views! That’s 500 shared laughs, sighs, and side-eyes from women who get it. Thank you for reading, sharing, and swiping along this wild ride with me. Here’s to the next 500 —and the next round of red flags, revelations, and ridiculousness.