The Photos Mom Warned You About 🚩

January 5, 2026January 4, 2026 Heather KightLeave a comment

A Menopause & Malarkey Field Guide

The Photos Mom Warned You About
🚩 Dating App Edition
Menopause & Malarkey

Whilst perusing through Match profiles, I landed on one that caught my eye.
Not because he was, as my daughter says, “not ugly.”
Not because his bio was charming. (It consisted of one sentence. That’s it.)
Not because my heart skipped a beat.

It was because if you looked up “The most overused profile pictures men use on the dating apps” in M&M’s Guidebook to Swiping Left — this gentleman would be the poster boy.

The Fish 🐟

All I can think is, “Teach a man to fish.”
I have no clue as to how that relates to dating.

The fish is not the problem.
The grip, the pose, and the “this defines me” energy are.

If your personality requires gills, we are not compatible.

The Flex 💪

Yes, we see your biceps.
No, we do not see your eyes.

Mirror.
Tank top.
Lighting from the underworld.

Sir, I did not ask to attend your workout performance review.

The Fedora 🎩

Was it too bright outside? Did you forget your sunglasses? Have pinkeye?

Ah yes.
The fedora.

Often paired with:
• a bathroom
• a vest
• confidence disproportionate to reality

This hat has seen things. None of them were good decisions.

The Combo Meal Nobody Ordered ☠️

The unholy trifecta … bless his heart.

When The Fish, The Flex, and The Fedora appear in the same profile…

That’s not coincidence.
That’s a warning label.

The Real Issue

This isn’t about looks.
It’s about self-awareness.

If every photo screams “Please be impressed,”
I already know I’ll be tired.

M&M Rule

If you wouldn’t send the photo to your daughter,
your sister,
or your mother…

Maybe don’t make it your dating profile.

In Conclusion …

Dating apps are not a costume party.
You do not need props.

Just clarity.
Effort.
And at least one photo in which I can see your eyes.

— Menopause & Malarkey

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.

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.