Who Ordered the Word Salad?

January 9, 2026January 8, 2026 Heather KightLeave a comment

🚩 Brought to you by Red Flag Friday, where the specials are cheap and the apps are questionable.

When I was a kid, Mom sometimes fed us good old Campbell’s Alphabet Soup. The warmth, the comfort, the spelling lesson in the form of noodles. Good stuff – not simply because it was filling and tasted great when accompanied by a peanut butter sandwich. It was good because if we expected alphabet soup, we weren’t surprised to receive “word soup.”

However, when ordering from the dating app menu, there are times when the server brings me something I did not request. Part of the process is to send messages to people you want to know. Unfortunately, there are those who obviously didn’t read the not-so-fine print (a.k.a.: my profile) and want to order off-menu. Or perhaps, make enough changes to the dish that the chef throws her hands in the air and claims (in a very cheesy French accent), “I cannot work in such horrible conditions!”

Meet Derrick, a gentleman who swiped right on my profile last week. It was as if I ordered alphabet soup and instead, the waiter brought me a word salad. 🥗

*Please take a breath at some point in this sentence.*

Let’s translate this from Dating App Word Salad into plain English:

“I want someone I can trust and want to be trusted”
= I have no idea how trust is built, but I’d like it delivered immediately.
“Someone I can love and want to be loved”
= I have discovered the concept of mutual affection. Recently.
“I know where I’m at in life and I hope she do to.”
= Grammar has left the building, but expectations remain high.
“Time waits on noone”
= I will rush intimacy while claiming I’m not playing mind games.
“I want a natural woman without all the makeup.”
= I enjoy policing women’s appearances while offering zero commentary on my own.
“Who I go to sleep with is who I wake up with.”
= This sentence did not need to be here. At all. Ever.
“I’m not Denzel but I’m not Freddie Kruger either.”
= Sir. Those were not the only two options.
“Let’s keep it 100 and be 100.”
= I have reached the end of my motivational poster vocabulary.

Menopause & Malarkey official verdict:

This is not dangerous…
but it is exhausting.

It’s giving:

sincerity without self-awareness
pressure disguised as romance
and a faint whiff of “I will be confused when you have boundaries.”

Also, bonus Red Flag Friday note 🚩:
Any person that says “I’m not looking to play mind games” almost always plays emotional Jenga.

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 · 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

🚩 Red Flag Friday: “The Thighs Have Eyes” — Nightmare on Match Street

November 21, 2025November 20, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

It began the way all great horror movies begin:
in the dark, just before dawn, when the world is quiet, your guard is down, and nothing good ever comes from checking your phone.

4:51 a.m.

My phone glowed on the nightstand — soft, eerie, and absolutely up to no good.
You know the scene: the quick cut, the ominous music shift, and the audience whispering,

“Don’t… pick… it… up.”

But I did.
Because I am the Surviving Heroine in this psychological thriller, and also because I regularly make bad decisions before caffeine.

I cracked open one eye.
Then the other.
I reached.

And with the naïve innocence of the victim in the first 10 minutes of a slasher film… I unlocked the screen.

Retro comic image of woman squinting at glowing phone screen — *This is why do not disturb was invented.*

There he was.

Andre.
From Illinois.
Awake at 3:51 a.m. HIS time.
Which already raises the eyebrow of suspicion.

His opener?

“Good morning 😃 You’re pretty!”

I should’ve closed my eyes and gone back to sleep.
I should’ve thrown the whole phone out the window.

But no.
Curiosity won — as it always does — and the typing bubbles began.

Fast.
Aggressive.
Like a chatbot on steroids.

🩰 Scene 1: Ballet, Cheerleading… or Cult Initiation?

The questions came rapid-fire:

“Did I wake you?”
“You work out?”
“What competitive sports were you in?”
“Ever did ballet?”
“Cheerleading?”

Dude.
It is before 5 a.m.
I haven’t even remembered my own name yet.

This was no small talk.
This was an athletic inquisition.

Vintage comic panel of a bald man at a laptop in a dimly lit room, with pom-poms hanging ominously in the background. — *Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer …*

This image is EXACTLY how it felt:
Andre, hunched over a keyboard in a dim lair, illuminated only by the unholy glow of his laptop and a deep desire to measure my quads.

🍗 Scene 2: “Nice curves!” — and the Descent Into Madness (Muah, ha, ha)

As I scrolled his profile — trying to confirm whether he was:

human,
Martian, or
texting from an abandoned Gold’s Gym

— my phone buzzed again.

“Nice curves!”

In our movie, that was the whisper before the jump scare.

And then came the final blow…

🔥 Scene 3: The Line That Summoned The Cyber Police

Just as my thumb hovered over BLOCK, he fired off the message that cemented his place in Red Flag Friday history:

“Your thighs pretty strong?”

Wait … WHAT.

It’s before sunrise.
The house? Dark.
The dogs? Asleep.
My patience? Gone.

You can’t ask about thighs at this hour. Or any hour. Ever.
It violates at least three federal laws and one sacred truth:

✨ No thighs before sunrise. ✨

No.
No, no, no.

Period.

Vintage comic panel of a sad ThighMaster exercise tool cartoonishly crying under a spotlight — *Even the ThighMaster — abandoned since 1993 — knows this is a violation.*

❌ Scene 4: The Final Girl Moment

It happened in slow motion.
The music swelled.
I hit BLOCK so hard my phone considered filing a complaint.

Vintage comic-style illustration of a silver-haired woman dramatically pressing the block button on her phone. — *Can I block someone more than once???*

Andre vanished.
Banished.
Slithered back to whatever early-morning Thigh Dimension he crawled out of.

🎬 FINAL SCENE — PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

And now, friends, a crucial PSA:

If a man asks about your thighs before sunrise…
That is not romance.
That is not flirtation.
That is not curiosity.

That is:

🚨 A Thigh-Based Emergency 🚨

Report immediately.
Block swiftly.
And repeat after me:

No thighs before sunrise.

The Bold Before The BLOCK

Tune in next week for another installment of:

Tag: Red Flag Friday

Who Ordered the Word Salad?

Menopause & Malarkey official verdict:

🚩 Red Flag Friday: The Department of “Government”

Red Flag Friday Presents: A License to Chill

Mind Your Business, Mr. Bond

🎩 The Photos

The Bio (Where Things Take a Turn)

🧳 Occupation:

Final Verdict

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

🚩 Red Flag Friday: “The Thighs Have Eyes” — Nightmare on Match Street

🩰 Scene 1: Ballet, Cheerleading… or Cult Initiation?

🍗 Scene 2: “Nice curves!” — and the Descent Into Madness (Muah, ha, ha)

🔥 Scene 3: The Line That Summoned The Cyber Police

✨ No thighs before sunrise. ✨

❌ Scene 4: The Final Girl Moment

🎬 FINAL SCENE — PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

🚨 A Thigh-Based Emergency 🚨

No thighs before sunrise.

Red Flag Friday — where the flags are bright, the men are bold, and the dating apps never disappoint in disappointing me. 🚩🚩🚩

🩸 The Final Girl of Facebook Dating

🔪 The Scream Queen of Swipe Culture

👠 The Slayer of Scammers

📣💃🗣️✨ The Creator of Cheer Noir™