Single older woman WLTM honest man with GSOH, yadda yadda.

A while back I wrote a few blogs about senior singles, because I find it intriguing to track the differences between dating then, so to speak (i.e. first time round, young and looking for a partner in life), and dating now. I’m on a free website with very active blogs, quizzes and forums – a kind of Facebook for singles. It is international and for all ages but the forums are dominated by the senior singles. Perfect.

These are not blogs about scammers, who of course mine the websites assiduously and constantly. Some are obvious to the meanest intelligence (and yet still have their successes. Go figure) and some are more subtle. In a nutshell, if they ask or offer their phone number / email address / skype address / or (eek!) money in the first exchange of messages, back away. Fast.  If it takes a few more messages before the subject of money comes up, run, they’re good. It’s frighteningly easy to set up a false profile, I did myself when I started (for information only), and I’m pulling together another blog on that subject. But this isn’t that blog.

These blogs are about singles with other agendas. Some of them are very wily indeed, with no intention whatsoever of settling down. Well, maybe if a mark with a high income and a low IQ drifted by, they’d snap him or her up, but right here, right now, being between 50 and death, healthy, active and with a reasonable income, is to have the world as their oyster and they the pearl, and they enjoy themselves very much indeed.

I pulled together a profile of male types (link here) and have been idly, in free moments, trying to pull together a companion blog of female types.  Perhaps I’m too close to the trees to see the wood, because it proved impossible. Some of them are just, well, nuts. But anyway, here are a few types, mainly thanks to the bloke I got to know through the website, who has been on there a while, is a bit of a professional himself, and gets messages All The Time.

Have to start with myself, I am definitely a professional single.

  • The Onlooker – intrigued by what everyone else is up to, quick to give her opinion, coy about her own agenda.  Most Onlookers put their status as ‘in a relationship’ or ‘not available’. In their bio they say things like Not looking Not looking Not looking although some opt for putting their age as 99 and insist they are looking for older men only.  Onlookers can be drawn into public flirtation and are deft and quite witty.  They give advice, and it is usually worth reading.
  • The Spiritual Soul – searching for love, but not just on the coarse physical plane. She seeks a soulmate, and wanders along the beaches (they nearly all live on beaches) thinking beautiful thoughts which she turns into poetry. She has frequent affairs which end when the potential beach typesoulmate would rather turn on the telly or go out for a pint than read yet another poem, and she realizes sadly that he is too of the earth to be The One.  He is hustled out the door, immortalized in a poignant and regretful poem, and then forgotten.
  • The Cynic – hardly counts as a single because she never, ever meets anyone. She complains there are no real men left, certainly none in her locality, and deletes private messages instantly because all messages are ipso facto from scammers. the cynicShe makes disparaging comments in the public forums and brings everyone else down.
  • The Upgrader describes herself as single, but coyly admits in her first or second private message that she is in fact in a relationship / marriage but it isn’t working out.
  • The Pragmatist is perhaps the most honest of all. She wants a better life for herself, preferably marriage, and is offering good company and that she will look after her man. Most of them are in poorer countries and with limited English but to judge by the blogs, the men who accept that offer and import a Pragmatist are pleased enough. However, many who look like Pragmatists are of course scammers. It is a very fine line to define. Be warned, too, gents, that genuine Pragmatists often turn fairly promptly into Upgraders.
  • The Nut – phew, how to define a nut? She starts off seeming sensible and even charming but scratch the surface and the lunacy bubbles up. Some are sensible in the mornings, wildly erratic in the evenings. Some become wildly demanding, attack other women on the forums, publicly insult men who have backed away, take the mildest remark as either a deadly insult or a heartfelt declaration, and appear in every shape and form. There are an awful lot of them and they get weirder and weirder until the website managers delete their profiles.

I know it isn’t a complete list but it will do as your starter pack. There’ll be updates. Maybe. Some of these types have started to creep into the backgrounds of my books, which are whodunits set in the age-group. Now you know how they get there! (with thanks also for research contributed by Alex)

 

You aren’t old, you know.

I find it odd that so many older writers stick to young female lovelies having exciting issues with young male lovelies, ranging from outdated through unrealistic to frankly lurid. Talk about mining your past – and heavily salting the mine!  It is usually younger writers who write older characters, and they stick with stereotypes which are superficially engaging to their younger readers, but leave older readers feeling caricatured. And yes, we have been.

Im not old

The irony is that we baby-boomers are out there, in our millions. 1946 to 1964 saw the biggest surge of babies born in all history. So, hands up, baby boomers. Are we down and out? Finished and over, relegated to  the scrap heap, existing not as individuals but as attachments to more interesting characters? Long past making our own errors, and fit only to give sage / caustic / pithy advice?

Are we HELL. Older boomers recently stopped working and are relishing retirement as a time to explore, start new hobbies, learn new skills. Many still working are branching out into new and exciting directions in their careers. Some are falling in love (sometimes for the first time in their lives) and ricocheting around making some crashing newbie errors. For that matter, some are falling in love all over again with their spouses, and rediscovering why they loved them in the first place. And some are, yes of course, totally absorbed in their grandchildren, and proving to be the coolest grandparents ever.

I KNOW this. Not just because I write in the age-group—I’m in the age-group.  I am a baby boomer, and so are my most interesting friends. They are awesome; vibrant interesting people cycling in races, changing careers, studying for fun, meeting people of all ages, uprooting and moving to new countries, re-inventing themselves. You’d almost think life was crammed with new stuff to discover and every day was a new opportunity. (Guess what. You’d be right.)

You can keep your fifty-is-the-new-forty, too, thanks. That’s for those clinging desperately to youth without realizing the best is yet to come. Fifty is just fine as fifty. Sixty is the re-invented sixty. Seventy-something brings challenges, not rocking-chairs.  Stop labelling us, kid. We could show you a thing or three. The colleague of indeterminate age, with an unexpectedly sizzling private life? One of us. The neighbour about to go on an activity or research holiday that would completely daunt you? Yup. Half the actors, actresses, singers, rock-groups, journalists, in the headlines? Not just the obvious ones. Look past the concealing makeup. See?

It is an incredibly good age to be. The kids are grown and gone. The limitations of old age are still tiny foothills on the horizon. This is our time, our Indian summer, and every day, every minute, counts and is to be savoured.  Something to look forward to, if you’re younger. Something to enjoy, while you’re here. And make it something to look back on, when you really do finally hit the foothills of old age!

It’s quite possible those foothills have their own excitement and challenges. Old age is, after all, fifteen years older than you are. I’ll let you know what I find, when I get there.

Mature man looking for that special woman. GSOH. Own hair and teeth.

Whatever the type, the signs of the professional single older man are fairly easy to spot. His approach will be direct but not cheesy.  If you respond, the correspondence will be chatty, lively, and fairly interesting. He can spell reasonably well, and string words together, a novelty in itself. You will start to find things in common. After a slow start*, he is becoming flatteringly keen—keener than you are, but not to an alarming degree. You feel the first real tug of attraction.

Obviously some are con-artists, and dangerous in the extreme, and you would emerge poorer and wiser and possibly broken-hearted. The more charming, attractive and eligible someone is, the more wary you should be, but that adrenalin rush is addictive. Mr Right, especially when he confesses he has been around for a while yet never met the Right One, is not for catching. He can be fun, though, if you know the rules. The commonest types (well, on the website I watch) are:

  • The Heathcliff, brooding, heartbroken, bravely carrying on after the loss of a dearly loved spouse, who has to be wooed and coaxed into talking about his pain and fights against his attraction to you.
  • The Cad, who admits to several adventures in the past, warns you off, despite his great attraction to you. He says disarmingly that he’s never felt like this before, but his track record is dire, he knows the fault must be in him. Yet, with you, he feels different . . .
  • The Waif, who loves too deeply and gets treated badly by women, and is almost afraid to trust but is drawn, despite himself, by your honesty and sincere nature.
  • The Bluffer, who puts a bold face on life but under it all feels insecure and unsure and confesses he envies you your confidence and wonderful personality.
  • The Married Man gets a surprising amount of action. He usually lists himself as single, but confesses early on that he is married and hanging in there for the children / grandchildren / his wife couldn’t cope alone. (Quite often he isn’t married at all, by the way. Very handy shield, and a way of juggling his diary to suit himself and run several women at once.) Women find him safe, and feel a little sorry for him, and he’s obviously attractive enough to at least one other woman. He often seems a little naïve, and asks for advice a lot. His seductions are often the most intense and if you’ll take my advice, don’t risk it. Those ones always seem to end up in tears. Choose another professional.

You’ll get stung somewhere along the way. Always gonna happen. Congratulations, it qualifies you as a semi-professional.  Go try again. Do no harm.

I wrote a book a while back (Five Six Pick Up Sticks) about the predators lurking in the deep end of the singles pool. I have learned so much since then I might need to rewrite it. On the other hand, it is a lively novella about murder and deceit. These guys are all about love. No, honestly. Cross their hearts.

*you made the cut. They usually have four or five lines in the water at the same time. If you suddenly stop hearing from him, you didn’t make the cut. Don’t worry. Plenty more fish in this sea.

Do No Harm (more advice on veteran singles)

If I had been told, at 20-something, that I would be still going squee because a guy fancied me rotten when I was 50-something, I would have been, well, taken aback. And my mother at 70-something was getting a little breathless and giggly about one of her neighbours in her retirement village, until she realized he made a lot of the female neighbours breathless and giggly. She switched her attention to another neighbour who was shyly picking flowers for her and inviting her to quiz nights.

So when does it stop? Well, probably never. And why should it? We are a gregarious species and if life throws a curveball and dumps us on our own, doesn’t mean we should become hermits. Socializing is essential to our wellbeing. Finding someone who makes your heart skip a beat is one of the most exciting bonuses of being single. ‘Better together’ (too soon?) is the ideal state of affairs but that’s usually companionship and shared experience rather than heart-skipping excitement. Not knocking that, not at ALL, colour me green regarding those of you who have it, but an increasing number of us are single by nature. We like people, but we also like time off.  Our relationships erode quickly and become unsatisfactory and before too long we are back on our own, a little ruffled and bruised but secretly also a little relieved.

It has never been so easy to meet other single people, in their tens, in their hundreds. Dating websites have boosted the sales of webcams into the stratosphere.   20 something, 50 something, 70 something, there are thousands of us out there buying into the lottery of love and wondering if, maybe this time . . .

Distance is a huge factor in the success of singles websites, and you can have an entire relationship—rise, fall and the crack of the breaking heart—without meeting. There is a misleading feeling of safety in those relationships. You can have several running at once, for that matter, although you lose your amateur status on the spot. A note on safety – Skype should be just for talking, remember there is a camera facility in the webcam. Never do anything, even a flash of cleavage, that you wouldn’t want captured in frame. Exchanging sexy messages – sexting – can be surprisingly erotic with a person who writes well; like personalized soft-porn.  Use a false name.  Some relationships run their entire course on messaging.

There are thousands who are addicted to that skip of the heart and nothing more. Professional singles.  They’re not bad people, but they do have a different agenda and they are not going to change. In a perfect world they would be registered with a central authority, with gradings on how adept they are, how scrupulous, and of course how much fun, because some are clumsier and more selfish than others, but we don’t live in a perfect world. The first rule of all should be Do No Harm. It isn’t, but adopt it as your own and when that central authority is set up, you’ll be a shoo-in.

 

 

Professional singles vs amateur singles (veteran category)  

Since my books are about older single people, the relationships of older single people are of paramount importance to me. There was, however, a limit to the amount of personal research I could do, so the good news for me was finding a singles website with a lot of older singles who discuss their experiences endlessly. I’ve been watching and listening for about six months now and I find I’m slowly evolving some theories.

I’m not going to be able to resist throwing in the occasional blog, because what most people don’t realize (I certainly didn’t) is how completely unlike the over fifties singles scene is to the first time round. Forget wanting to nest-build, for starters – noone is looking to have kids. A semi-professional might politely say they welcome your kids, but professional singles simply don’t want the fuss.

Professional singles should not be confused with scammers (who they can spot at a glance). They are the men or women who are perfectly happy with their lives as they are, but enjoy a flirt, or a fling, every now and then. They cause chaos amongst the amateur singles, who believe everyone on the site is eager to find that perfect companion with whom to sail into the sunset years.

This blog touches lightly on the combinations, and what one could expect from each combination. I will, I promise, be putting together a blog with the tell-tale signs for identifying  the professional, vs amateur, single. Any reader who can add to the list should please kick in with a comment!

Both singles are professionals

Both parties know exactly what is going on, although it is considered polite for at least one to act like an amateur to add a little freshness to what might become a slightly jaded performance. They both keep their nets cast wide throughout the fling. Skilled flirting is very much enjoyed by both but there is a certain lack of thrill and usually the attempt is put aside or on hold, with mutual relief, when an amateur appears on the scene.

Professional man, amateur woman

For any amateur woman who recognizes the situation fairly early on, this is the best way to be introduced to the world of the Older Single. There is charm and entertainment, an exciting intensity in the early stages, after which a nicely-judged distance is maintained, and a good time is enjoyed by both. It can, however, be painful for those women who simply refuse to recognize the warning signs and persist in the belief Something Deeply Meaningful Is Happening.

Amateur man, professional woman

Professional women take on amateur men for one of three reasons:

  • Boredom
  • Mistaking the amateur man for a professional, or semi-professional
  • Genuine attraction

The luckier amateur man will meet a professional woman who is a gentleman about the whole thing and lets him down lightly after a charming relationship. The more set on his own agenda he is, the less likely it will end well. Even if marriage (if that is the amateur man’s goal) is achieved, the professional woman will always seek out new flirts and flings. That’s what rocks her boat. However, for the amateur man who wants to become a professional, this is the ideal introduction.

Amateur man, amateur woman

First time round, remember that? This was the usual combination. For senior singles, it is relatively unusual for two first-timers to meet first time out the starting gates, and there is of course always the chance of a happy ending. In about 1% of cases. For the other 99% there is usually one who achieves semi-professional status, and one who leaves the world of website dating forever, or at least determined to do better next time.

Managing expectations is the first and most important thing to learn. Older singles either intend to stay single, or are passionately determined to latch on to someone who can fund their emotional and financial old age, or have low expectations, a pragmatic outlook, and a very clear idea of what they would find attractive.  The third group tend to enjoy themselves the most. And yes, to those regular readers who know I was away on holiday recently (never let it be said I don’t do thorough research), it was great. In hindsight I must have been nuts, and I wouldn’t recommend anyone following my example, but I was lucky and had a wonderful time. Same time next year? Yes please.

Ever researching on your behalf,

Elegsabiff

Funny-old-couple-cartoon

Journeys End yadda yadda

Gosh, been a while since I was in here. Dusty. Check out that cobweb! Brings a whole new meaning to website.

Well, I have three good reasons. Firstly, although my books are quietly building a discerning, charming and intelligent readership (very few of whom review, but they keep buying, and in the long run that’s probably more of a compliment), it is a select group indeed, so I have been doing temp work to fatten up my emaciated piggy bank.

Secondly, I’ve been wrestling, and mostly losing, with the latest book. It wants to go one way. I want it to go another. There’s nearly as much negotiation as Scotland will be facing (Yes or No) in the fairly immediate future, and it is four against one, and quite stressful.  The only way to resolve the deadlock was a one-off Halloween edition, and Halloween is scarily close.  Which means 11 12 is now suddenly needing some beta readers. You in?

Thirdly, and I’m surprised I found the time, I’ve been expanding my social horizons and am about to take my first holiday in more years than I can remember. Not alone.

last straw

That blasted singles website again. This Spanish dude asked if I was still doing the research and I said no. Well, to cut a long story short (for now. It’ll be in a book sometime, somewhere) he’s not Spanish, just lives there. He’s not even Scottish, although he lived here twelve years. He’s very nearly the boy next door, we’re both from the same part of the world, we are eerily alike, we’ve been talking every day for three months, and I haven’t a clue whether he’s my long-lost twin brother (we all suspect we have one, right?) my friend, or my future. It will be an interesting holiday.

So that is why, between working from the crack of dawn to late afternoon, frantically scribbling for a few hours, then talking on Skype until the wee small hours, the website fell by the wayside.  On the bright side, I have Plans, Interviews, and Reviews coming up, at least one fantastic guest book tour lined up, and maybe even some photos from the holiday. (There will be segways. Some scenery.)

Listen, that beta reader thing? Talk to me. Twitter. My author page. If you’re already on my mailing list, you have the address.  New readers, and ones who know the series. I reciprocate. Get in touch.

The best friend question

Regular readers of the blog know that I joined a singles website a few months ago to do some research. I’ve hung up my research cape and boots but the website I chose has a fairly active blogging section and some are really interesting.

I was totally taken aback, though, by an exchange I saw on one of them, written by a bloke who sent out a whole bunch of eflowers to make new contacts. One response was from a woman who said she had received an eflower a week ago and the man who sent it was now her best friend. Say what? I read it again. Best friend. In a week. She hadn’t met him, they had exchanged messages and then talked on Skype, and he was her best friend.

Has the meaning of ‘best friend’ changed? My daughter, when about ten, told me she had fifteen best friends. No, no, I said, you have fifteen friends, which is your best one? She looked at me as though I was deficient (ah, that look mothers so love) and told me they all were.

Maybe I should have asked which was her BFF. That used to puzzle me, too, aren’t best friends ipso facto  best friends forever? My best friend and I have known each other since we were obnoxious spotty schoolgirls. We live in different countries now, don’t talk that often on the phone (but never for less than an hour when we do) and meet up every few years. I can tot up my real friends without taking off my socks, and I still think I am rich. Edge and Vivian, in my books, have been friends since childhood and now are fellow residents at Grasshopper Lawns, but had also kept their friendship going during long separations in different countries. Staying power, to me, is as important as shared interests, laughter and support.

The thing is, there were lots of comments on that particular blog on the website and the general consensus was that someone you were attracted to, and could talk to for hours on end, was an immediate best friend. If you really struck lucky, your love interest as well (although maybe that takes two weeks. Nobody said.)

So tell me, what is a best friend?  I’m a writer, I need to know these things.

Virtually over

 

Points to remember when having a virtual affair:

Never, ever plan to meet.  Hard not to type, in the heat of the moment, damn I wish you were really here! Never ever say it otherwise and if you think it, get out. You’re getting too caught up.

Keep it unreal. Use a false name, never give your address or media links and keep the exchange of photographs to a minimum. It is oddly unnerving to have a photo of someone staring blandly at you from the screen at the same time as you are telling each other the detailed and not-at-all-bland things you are up to. Imagination is better.

However, be virtually realistic: it must be a bit schizophrenic to have someone rhapsodizing over your enormous perky perfect breasts when even you can barely see the things, no? Or your long legs, when you barely make it to five foot in your heels – calling you a pocket Venus when you tower over the average bloke, or – one for the boys here – raving over your washboard belly when that ship sailed many six-packs ago. I was realistic about my good and bad points and still ended up apparently gifted with alabaster skin, and my full and perfect lips being traced with a loving finger, it made me feel restless and oddly inadequate.

Don’t get into details about your lives. This is virtual.  Keep it impersonal, keep it light. Explore places one of you has been to, yes, that’s quite fun, don’t get into long chats about your respective problems or it starts to feel real. It ISN’T.  Share some fun stuff if you must but keep the baggage out of sight.

Of course it is a joke for me to give any advice at all considering I caused absolute havoc with my recent affair, so here is the cautionary tale. Anyone who has good tips to add, kick in with comments.

A few weeks back I wrote a blog (Messaging sex rocks) about starting a virtual affair and I haven’t written much since. Not on my blog, not worked much on the latest book, barely kept up with emails, the very occasional tweet, and very sporadic Facebook, because a quite ridiculous amount of time was being spent on this affair. I worked out that one day we had spent five, yes FIVE, hours talking to each other.  Actually I did freak a bit at that point and try to dial it right back.  Every morning when I fired up the pc, there would be messages on ooVoo, and if I responded, he was instantly on line. He wanted to chat every lunchtime. There would be mid afternoon messages. And every night, on the dot of ten, the ping from ooVoo and that was my evening gone until midnight. Well, at first that was quite intoxicating, and he is funny, and inventive, and I think it was three weeks before we repeated a scenario (and only then because it was one we had both enjoyed).  And when you live alone, and I know I am going to start sounding defensive, it IS nice to know when you’re in the mood to chat you can drop a line and instantly get a response. But the time was becoming a problem. Part of it was that he was not, ever, to be hurried. He would undo my buttons, for example,
one
button
at
a
time
and stop to admire what each opened button revealed (despite exchanging detailed descriptions, I know to him I not only looked like mature Barbie, but a mature Barbie who has looked after herself really, really well.)  I tried the short-cut of saying defiantly that I was stripped for action in anticipation of his arrival, so he started ‘buying’ me lingerie and posting the link on ooVoo before our meetings—I want you to be wearing this, sweetie.  Links are such fun. We travelled a lot, for example. I said restlessly once that I was sick to death of what is proving to be a particularly cold and wet spring / start to summer, and that evening there was the link to a tropical island with the most beautiful deserted sun-drenched beach and lagoon you can imagine. We swam, and made out on the beach, and got caught by the incoming tide. (Talk about catching crabs.) We went to street fairs in charming locations, and got the giggles when we found chocolate-coated strawberries on one stand, because they’d featured in a recent meeting. He surprised me with a detailed and well-thought-out virtual trip to Paris for our one month anniversary (a month already? Seriously? I’m not good at keeping track of things like that). One lunchtime we browsed an Ann Summers shop, laughing out loud (well, I know I was) as we exchanged teasing links of things we found. He found an on-line auction catalogue and ‘bought’ this fabulous Art Deco mirror, for our little love-nest. Aw. Bless.

 

art deco mirror

It wasn’t all sex.  We almost became friends, in an odd way. I take part in a monthly short story competition, in an effort to control my tendency to waffle (judge for yourself how that’s working out), and in April I won it which was pretty cool—there are some really good stories every month, it’s a great competition. Paddy* sent me flowers and champagne.  Virtual flowers and champagne, my daughter pointed out. Well, yes, but when I told her I’d won, she’d said oh, okay, that’s nice, and told me another anecdote about my grandpuppy. We were so in synch that I’d log into ooVoo to leave a message, and find him already there typing. Or I’d go to the original website (which has virtual gifts and excellent emoticons), ditto, and find a message so fresh the email notification hadn’t yet reached me.

Hang on, I thought. Isn’t he married? This is getting weird. One married friend (male) said his wife was probably doing the same on another website, the safest form of swinging ever. Another married friend (female) said I was probably acting as a virtual fluffer, sending him to bed every night primed and ready for action, and should be charging for marriage counselling. I checked his profile on the original website, and he’d shown his status as single. That was, if anything, more alarming. What single guy spent so much time and thought on a virtual affair instead of being out there living a real life? But okay . . . actually, no, not okay. I started trying to back off and reclaim my own real life. More flowers, more teddies, and more and more affection rather than lust. Oo-er.  Then it came out, a passing comment, that he was married and I said right, that’s it, we’re done, this is getting way too inappropriate for an extramarital fling. My mailbox very nearly exploded under the weight of messages. Sheesh.  Okay, but no more lovey-dovey gumph.  Occasional meet-ups, just for fun, and by the way, I added, I’m out tonight.

As always, when I got home after my evening out, I logged in to check emails (and twitter and Facebook) and glanced on ooVoo and he was there, waiting. Not in the mood, I said sternly, and he said he’d sleep downstairs, keep his iphone on all night, in case I changed my mind.  Okayyyyyyyy . . . help!

I put him off for days and finally agreed reluctantly to a ten pm meeting on Sunday night. So not in the mood.  At nine-thirty I got a message saying he’d be late, something had come up, but I’ll be there ten-thirty sweetie, and I’m so sorry.  Fair enough, I got on with my poor neglected book, and when ooVoo pinged it was past eleven.  And he said he couldn’t say why he was  late. Well of course he could, it’s a virtual relationship, right? MAKE SOMETHING UP. So I ticked him off at length, logged off and told Twitter I was mad as a hornet and got a lot of teasing and a little more sympathy than I deserved. I assumed, of course, that he’d dumped me for a romantic interlude at home and while I was fully in favour of that, I was really annoyed about my interrupted evening.

Turned out the interlude had been far from romantic. Mrs Paddy* had had enough and confiscated the iphone, he said she was being unreasonable, and there had been a prolonged quarrel. I sympathized, told him Mrs Paddy* was entirely within her rights and I was out of the picture, and we’re over.

2012-02-12 15.01.00-5

 

Now I just have to get my head around my guilt. And pass on warning messages. That’s the main reason I’m sharing because wow, virtual can be intense. Be warned! He took it far more seriously, but I’ll be honest, during my earlier attempts to back off I missed him, I pined, a little bit. After all, a virtual man always looks good, never laughs too loudly or fails to perform to perfection, never belches or farts or steps on your feet when you’re whirling gracefully around a dance floor, never stares for too long at another woman; what’s not to like? He always thinks you look good, your bum never looks too big in anything, and he sends flowers, wine, and thoughtful gifts every day.

At the very least, don’t get together too often. And keep in touch with real life …

Would I ever have another virtual affair? I’m a writer, so using my imagination, and playing with words, is purest fun for me. I live alone, so someone I can talk to at any time is intoxicating, even if I have to sit on a virtual lap before I start to chatter, and have to gasp obligingly at intervals. (Ooh, ooh, to quote Joan Rivers.) He listened intensely (did everything intensely) and said the right things at the right times, I doubt I’d find that again anyway. It was (women are funny cattle) oddly unnerving. But as to having another affair, probably not. It is, when all is said and done, a little too weird!

Ever researching on your behalf,

Yours,

Elegsabiff.

 

Messaging sex rocks

A while back I asked the people on my mailing list to have a look at a rather more sensual story and the feedback was wow, yes, and I should do more. I like writing it, and it seems I’m good at writing it, but problem, I have a quiet life: just me, my computer, and my imaginary friends. How to jumpstart the imagination and expand my experience? Getting out there for real can take ages and carries a serious risk factor. And it turns out there really is a limit to the kind of questions you can ask people (what turns you on, what makes you hot) without setting up potentially embarrassing expectations. Oops.

Except, of course, on dating websites. Been there, done that, for Five Six, but I remembered the many approaches I had primly ignored and blocked while on the website. What if I responded? I signed up on a free website (not looking for quality, just quantity) and was honest about my age and said I was a writer who liked to talk about sex. I put up a photo that was me but also not very like me (in view of the conversations I hoped to be having, I really did not want to be recognized and hailed in public as Gloria*) and waited patiently in a corner of my web and the first juicy fly buzzed by in less than an hour. Increasingly steamy messages whizzed back and forth and it was even quite fun. I did eventually have to block him after two days as he kept wistfully kissing my cyber shoulders, and sending me cyber flowers, because he wasn’t very imaginative and an hour is an hour, time is money, been there, done that, so many men, so little time. Thanks for the memories but time to move on. (And he was fixated on panties, which is a word I happen to hate. Sorry, guy. Knickers or nothing. You are the weakest link, goodbye.)

the fantasy kiss

Free websites are weird. There’s a woman who wants us to exchange photos of our boobs by email. Aye, that’ll be right. One retired bloke keeps messaging that he wants to MARRY ME (stop shouting!) and take me to his villa in Spain where I can WRITE to my heart’s content while he LOOKS AFTER ME. Anyone interested, let me know, he seems loud but genuine. A surprising number of younger blokes are desperate to learn from a mature woman who talks back. Their technique was all swearies and no-one under forty seems able to spell, so between spelling errors and the website’s auto censor (more st*rs than *ctual vow*ls) they were quite hard to read. They are learning, but it is older men who have the imagination and range.

I have had virtual flings with, gosh, a dozen men? (yes, website bicycle of note) (quiet pride) and some of them are pretty sick men, you know? Yes, Domdaddy, I’m looking at you. How you reached 60 years old without being locked up I have no idea. There’s nothing Gloria* won’t consider but she does draw the line at encouraging anyone to think their desires have any place in a normal world. Slut, yes, but a slut with standards. She has been sent more fervent cyber flowers and had more partners wanting repeats than seems possible, sometimes they are back in hours.

Reading erotica and porn is, of course, tingly, which is why people do it. I struck pay dirt, (hell, the mother lode) with Irish Paddy*, who is 50. He was on the website looking for a sensual partner for intimate encounters, and I messaged him on the off-chance. Paddy* has a lyrical imagination, is a fluent typist, and gets totally involved in the moment. He eventually switched me (as Gloria*) onto ooVoo as the st*rs were getting us down and as George Takei says, oh myyyyy. I am in writer heaven: an appreciative and interactive reader who is not only totally in synch but has suggestions and developments of his own. Talk about tingly. When ooVoo jumps to life, so do I. Who knew research could be such fun?

So that’s the word on messaging sex. Don’t ever start into anything on Skype or elsewhere under your own identity, no matter how harmless the first approach, because there are some sick puppies out there. But oh myyyyyy…

In the meantime, I—oops. There goes ooVoo—must go.

*not really. Names have been changed to protect the louche.