Finding My Prince

I am a life-long serial monogamist. At the tender age of pushing sixty, I’m currently without my Mr. Right. This is the longest stretch (going on four years) without a significant other since grade school.

Single life agrees with me more than I care to admit or thought possible. Still, I don’t see my bachelor lifestyle as a forever thing. One day he’ll come along…

I’d like to meet a nice, gorgeous, and likable guy with a car, his own place, and full retirement benefits who takes good care of himself, thinks I’m amazing, and can’t keep his hands off of me. Is that too much to ask?

Life is too short for bad relationships. I’ve reached the age where individual body parts have less say in the decision-making process. Dick and heart be damned, we’re all in this together.

Unless the UPS guy turns out to be him, my prince isn’t likely to magically appear at my front door. My vision issues keep me from going out after work. Consequently, from time to time, I may — on rare occasion — check out the hookup apps. For research purposes.  Honest.

If getting laid is the objective, today’s gay apps are far more efficient for hooking up willing partners than gay bars ever were. No matter your predilections or preferences, finding someone with similar proclivities is as easy as downloading the right app.

No matter the app, good profiles with flattering selfies stand out. Honesty is completely optional. Skip the details — nobody reads long profiles anyway.

Bait the trap with a good profile picture — something flattering and reasonably current. Selecting just the right pic is an art. The goal is to look as good as you can, but not so good he’s startled when you meet.

Using somebody else’s pics is a popular option, but what’s the point? Either he’s short sighted or has no intention of ever meeting in person. Either way, I’m not interested.

Consequently, app conversations devolve into interrogations to verify the veracity of claims made in the profile and by chat. If, after claims are verified I’m even the tiniest bit interested, a full audit follows. You’ve got to prove that shit to me, honey.

Next the interrogation shifts to tastes and preferences. New claims may require additional verification. No pig in a poke for me, thank you very much.

Experience has taught me to establish at this point that kissing is required. A surprising number of guys are emphatically NOT kissers. Anything else is fine, but kissing is not on the menu.


A guy who won’t kiss is trouble. He’s either crazy, got a secret, or both. Perhaps he’s married and preaches at a small church the next county over. It could be anything. Ain’t nobody got time for all that drama.

Guys who won’t kiss should seek help from a mental health professional. I’m no expert, but it sounds like a pretty serious issue to me.

I’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs to find my prince. Guys who won’t kiss aren’t him. So step aside. I’m on a mission and time’s a wasting!