I’m told the PoF veterans lie in wait for the newbies to pop onto their screens. The site even makes it easy if you’re a paying member with a pop up list of “new members in your area”. Picture the new prison bait walking between the rows of cells filled with snarling, catcalling reprobates, “Hey, new meat, c’mon over here. I got what you need. I have what you want.” The timid PoF newbie is buried beneath an avalanche of messages from eligible singles just dying to meet him. This, I’m told, happens.
This, however, was not my experience. I was greeted with a resounding yawn, a smattering of “so what”. I suspect the truly beautiful people have a much better go of it. Me? I was being weighed down with pictures that made me look like a wraith or John the Baptist ranting in the wilderness. Very few women were impressed with my good looks.
A few reluctantly read my profile and just a few of those contacted me. And those very few were the women you would expect raving Baptist John to attract. It became very apparent very quickly I was going to have to knock on some doors. Nobody was knocking mine down. So I looked at pictures, first the main one and , if I felt some attraction, I’d look at the rest. If I was still liking the woman, I’d read her profile. The profile rarely nullifies a great picture, but a great profile never overcomes an unattractive picture.
Most profiles have 4 or 5 pictures. Again, everybody puts their best face forward. Usually though, one of the pics is the real pic. The one that shows the equine nose or the tremendous butt. We all have flaws and we all have people who not only don’t mind the thing we’re most afraid to show, but actually are attracted to it. I started to message the ones I liked. And here’s what happened:
Oops. I have an appointment. I’ll get back to this tomorrow.
#onlinedating #middleaged #manspov #middleageddating #lastfirstkiss
The Last First Kiss 