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

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. 😔🔥

Dating After Dignity · Menopause & Mischief

⭐ M&M Mini Post: Kudos Where They’re Due

November 29, 2025November 29, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

A Rare Moment of Applause in the Dating-App Wilderness

Every now and then, in the endless scroll of shirtless gym bros, filtered-to-oblivion selfies, and men who lead with their Halloween alter ego like it’s a personality trait…

A hero appears.

Today, that man is Rob, 55.

He did something almost no one on Facebook Dating remembers how to do anymore:
He crafted a profile with structure. With restraint. With logic.

Let’s break down the magic:

✅ Photo #1: A normal, friendly, fully clothed human man

Good lighting. Relaxed expression. No sunglasses indoors. No nostril selfie.
A rare and delightful start.

✅ Real-life pics first, costume pic last

This is the hallmark of a gentleman who understands:

> “My Captain Jack Sparrow moment is a bonus, not a warning.”

The pirate photo wasn’t a threat.
It wasn’t his opener.
It was the dessert at the end of the menu — optional, sweet, and mess-free.

✅ A bio that doesn’t read like an obituary

Simple, straightforward, not dripping with desperation or “I’m just a simple man looking for a simple girl.”
Just enough personality to show he’s real.
Not enough to make you run.

⭐ The M&M Verdict

I swiped right.
Not because I’m picking out a dress.
Not because expectations are sky-high.
But because sometimes you have to acknowledge when someone actually did the homework.

Rob, sir, wherever you are… Menopause & Malarkey salutes you. 🫡
Not for perfection.
Not even for chemistry.
But for remembering the golden rule of online dating:

> “Lead with the man.
Save the pirate for last.” 🦜

Two digital caricatures side-by-side. On the left: a friendly, ‘simple guy’ illustrated with a soft smile, a short haircut, and a plain T-shirt, arms relaxed at his sides, giving warm and approachable energy. On the right: a playful pirate caricature with long hair, a bandana, an eye patch, dramatic rings, and beaded braids, holding one hand near his face in an exaggerated pose. Both figures are drawn with rounded, charming cartoon style. — Humility +Humor=👏🏻👏🏻

Menopause & Mischief · Red Flags & Walking Punchlines

Meanwhile, Back in Reality

November 26, 2025November 26, 2025 Heather KightLeave a comment

MENOPAUSE & MALARKEY PRESENTS:

“Meanwhile, Back in Reality…”

A Study in False Advertising

Tell me why Facebook is out here asking:

“Are you 50+ and looking to find a man?”

*It’s like the Stepford Wives of Silver Foxes!*

…then presenting me with a lineup that looks like a casting couch for:

The Latest James Bond Sequel
The Brawny Paper Towel Guy
The “Intimately Beckham” Cologne Ads

Let’s analyze this Bait & Switch.

Age 50–58 👨🏻‍🦱

Looks like he makes $300K a year building custom log cabins with nothing but a hatchet and a heart of gold.
REALITY CHECK:
My matches are men who wear Viking masks and brag about being STD-free.

Age 59–67 👱🏻‍♂️

Sir looks like he whispers in French, sings like Josh Turner, and restores vintage motorcycles on weekends.
REALITY CHECK:
The actual 59–67 demographic on Facebook Dating posts selfies featuring bathroom sinks, upshots of nostrils, and pillows as backdrops.

Age 68–73 🧓🏻

This man looks like early-retirement perfection: resides in his mountainside cabin beside a lake, tours wineries around the world, and doles affection on his seven grandchildren, who lovingly call him “Pop-Pop.”
REALITY CHECK:
Tell me why the REAL 68–73s message me “Your smile is my new favorite view” at before 5am, coffee, or a simple, “Hello.”

Age 73–85 👴🏻

He looks like he reads novels on his sunlit balcony, knows how to dance the tango, and makes 80 look like the new 50.
REALITY CHECK:
The only 70-somethings I get wear shirts that are sleeveless, have smiles that are toothless, and use photos that are from 1985. (And they definitely don’t look like Sam Elliott or Sean Connery.)

🌟 CONCLUSION

These men are AI-generated delusions meant to lure us into yet another dating site.
They do not exist.
They have never existed.
They are the enigmas known as:

“Senior Silver Foxus Perfectus.”

Meanwhile, Facebook Dating is serving me:

Señor Modelo
Tony who bathes with his dog
Men who take selfies from under their chin
Men who list “mammals” as an interest

TalkNest, don’t play with 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.

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: Women Over 50

Discernment with a Side of Fatigue

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🤠

⭐ M&M Mini Post: Kudos Where They’re Due

Meanwhile, Back in Reality

MENOPAUSE & MALARKEY PRESENTS:

“Meanwhile, Back in Reality…”

A Study in False Advertising

Age 50–58 👨🏻‍🦱

Age 59–67 👱🏻‍♂️

Age 68–73 🧓🏻

Age 73–85 👴🏻

🌟 CONCLUSION

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

🏅 Honorable Mention:

🚩 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™