As mentioned in my recent post, I haven’t spent time on the dating sites lately. The only active subscription I have is eHarmony — I let the others end with no regret. 👋
Last night I decided to log in out of morbid curiosity. Truly. I was watching a true crime documentary about couples who met online and one wound up deceased. 😳 I wasn’t looking for trouble. Just … looking.
Updating my profile and photos landed a message in my inbox, and at 5am I was greeted with …
To be continued on our next episode of 🚩Red Flag Friday!
If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, allow me to assure you: I did not fall in love, run away to Scotland, or get abducted by a man with a fish photo and unearned confidence.
I moved.
Which means my life recently consisted of cardboard boxes, donation piles, sore muscles, and that specific kind of exhaustion where even your thoughts need a nap.
Proof that fresh starts don’t have to be perfect to be meaningful. 🏡✨
But there’s another reason for the quiet. I stopped looking at the apps. Not dramatically. Not with my own personal declaration of independence. I just… didn’t open them.
And friends, let me tell you something shocking: Nothing bad happened. No missed soulmate notifications. No algorithm-induced heartbreak. No urgent need to evaluate a man’s relationship with punctuation, hats, or freshwater bass.
Abs fade. Fish rot. Bathroom selfies are forever.
Instead, I unpacked. I breathed. I laughed at things that didn’t involve a dating profile promising “hot fun” like it was a Groupon.
And when I did peek back in recently? Oh, my stars and garters.
The apps were exactly as I left them.
Still confidently delivering men who: ✅️Think “chemistry” is something you spray on ✅️Believe three-word profiles count as a personality ✅️Are one midnight message away from a public safety announcement ✅️Look like they accidentally photo-bombed a picture of their bathroom sinks
Meanwhile, the ads have escalated. 🙄 Everywhere I look is a suspiciously ripped silver fox who absolutely does not exist, staring into the camera like an AI Romeo.
Well, maybe like Romeo’s AI grandpa.
At some point I had to ask myself: Is this dating… or performance art? 🤔
So consider this post a reset. No pressure. No promises. No pretending I’ve been “actively looking” when I’ve actually been actively choosing peace, furniture placement, and sleep.
Menopause & Malarkey isn’t going anywhere. Red Flag Friday will return. Mischief Monday is stretching and hydrating.
I’m still here. Still observant. Still amused. Just a little more unpacked — literally and figuratively.
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 youstack 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.
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.
“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: (stillin 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. 🗺️🔍
Every once in a while, a dating profile comes along that makes you question everything you thought you knew about grammar, humanity, and personal hygiene.
Bless his disease-free heart
Enter Attackmewityrlov. Age 55. Gallery selfie: aisle three of what appears to be a Walmart. Username: a vowel-deprived cry for help.
The man’s profile opens with a flourish of exclamation points and… well, mostly exclamation points:
“I am a loyal clean man, never had a STD!!! I only need one Woman that’s clean and STD and drugs free!! Must be loyal!!”
Sir, blink twice if your keyboard is being held hostage.
Let’s unpack this, shall we?
🚩 1. The “Clean” Obsession
If the first thing you tell me is that you’ve “never had an STD,” I’m not impressed — I’m concerned that you think that’s the opening pitch. It’s like showing up to a job interview and proudly announcing, “I’ve never been arrested.”
When someone leads with “clean,” it’s not confidence — it’s a red flag disguised as a Clorox wipe.
🚩 2. The Grammar Crimes
The capitalization is chaotic. The punctuation is panicked. Somewhere, an English teacher is shaking her head and whispering, “Not like this.”
Gentlemen, three exclamation points do not make a personality. They make a migraine.
🚩 3. The Missing Context
Where’s your sense of humor? Your hobbies? Your story? “Must be loyal!!” tells me nothing about your character, but everything about your trust issues.
A dating bio should be a snapshot of you — not a commandment list for whoever swipes next.
💡 A Modest Proposal
Men, if you’re reading this: Start with why you’re here, not what you’re afraid of. Tell me about your favorite meal, your dog, or the last time you laughed until you cried. (Preferably not during an STD screening.)
We don’t need perfection. We need a glimpse of real.
🎬 Final Thoughts
Attackmewityrlov, wherever you are, I genuinely hope you find your loyal, clean, drug-free woman. But maybe also a friend who can proofread.
Until then, the rest of us will be over here — swiping past chaos, sipping coffee, and wondering how many exclamation points it takes to summon a relationship.
Menopause & Malarkey 