Archive for the ‘From the Chicks Nest’ Category

The CyberDating Game

October 3, 2021

I’ve been away for years! LITERALLY. Life happened. My ex decided he didnt like living in the country – or me – very much, so I changed my life. In a BIG way. I packed up and moved to Philadelphia where, in spite of great personal loss, I am thriving. The following is a recent article I’ve written about on-line dating. If you’ve subjected yourself to this process, perhaps you can relate! 🤦‍♀️

After a lifetime of losing at love, I finally ended up with Tim… the man who changed everything.  The only way to find out if it was real was to move halfway across the country to the East Coast, where he was facing the end of his own marriage.

We settled into an unconditional love that I never thought possible.  I was finally blissfully happy.

Two years later, he died. 

I slogged through the motions of grief. I moved out of the apartment we shared, determined to give myself a new start in my new city. I cursed his photos. I kept his cell phone charged as if he might call. I wore his T Shirts. I couldn’t see any way out of the empty life where I now found myself.

Enter Jaclyn and a bottle of wine.  

After several months of steady tears and lethargic loneliness, my sweet, smart friend decided I should put myself on a dating site.  “You can’t live like this forever, she said. You need to meet new people.  Tim would want you to be happy.” As she poured another glass of liquid courage, we created my profile, chose some pictures, and I waited for the boys to come calling.

And did they ever.  

My real age is 65.  But I think I’m forty and look like I’m maybe 50.  

This is a problem.

Men my age, more often than not, are typically overweight, stodgy, and angry. Some were widowed, like me. Some divorced. Some never married at all. I found myself in a sea of personalities and had to sift through them, most being 70+ geriatrics who likely think fine dining is Cracker Barrel.  

First up was Mr. Delaware. He was a boyish 58 and I fell hard. I’m a sucker for a man who can make me laugh.  After a witty banter back and forth via text and telephone, I impulsively packed a bag and drove two hours to meet a man who, for all I know, could have been an ax murderer.  Something told me this would be safe, and it was… but it WAS disappointing. Mr. Delaware had more issues than a magazine rack. He had told me early on I was the female version of him. Uh… not even close. 

Next came Mr. Baltimore. He had boyish dimples, said he graduated from culinary school, was a bit shy, and asked me if I liked crab cakes. Duh. I drove two hours to see him, expecting to see him in his kitchen, whipping up a romantic dinner. Instead, he took me to a chain restaurant for rubbery scallops and barely spoke. It was like sitting across the table from a blank sheet of paper. Turns out Mr. Baltimore HAD been a chef but ended up selling Toyotas. He had that pudgy stance and rummy-eyed glaze so many car salespeople have.  Obviously lonely, he was also angry.  He told me he hated people. What? I chalked him up to research.

I regrouped. I realized I was too gullible and needed to vet these people. Like the way too pretty guy who said he was working on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico.  He put on a full court press.  My best friend said, “Dr. Phil did a whole episode on these oil rig guys! He’s a con artist! GET RID OF HIM.“  I did. Then I discovered he had popped up again under a new name with different pictures. I turned his ass in. Jeff or Benjamin or whoever you are, I hope you rot.  (And no, I didn’t send him any money.)  

The one who had that bad boy look… resembling Eddie Van Halen.  He wanted to converse off the site and use Whats App.  I gave him several options to meet up and he dodged them. Red flag, said my friend.  So, I blocked “Roger” or whatever his name was.  In reality, he was probably “Roberta”, sipping tea under a shade tree in Mexico, playing with peoples lives. 

The sexy, slightly geeky guy with the same name as my deceased sweetheart. He was 51 and lived only 10 miles away. He texted me on the regular. I suggested we meet up… have a coffee, or a beer and a burger.  He never took the hint and instead sent me selfies and pictures of the new shoes he bought. What???   

One nice looking man called me, told me he was from Sweden, then started singing to me and sent me kissing emojis. He said had to go and would call me right back. He never did.  

Thank God. 

The sheer entertainment value in looking for online love has been worth the price of the subscriptions.  On some sites, they don’t use their real name. I’ve met: TallCool1, Tater, HereWeGo, SwingGuy (really?), NormalNotBoring, ARichTycoon, and JustAnotherGuy.  The best one?  OMGIPAIDFORTHIS. I with ya, man. I paid for this? 

I have seen potential suitors dressed in tuxedos and pajamas. Other pose shirtless in their beds, looking dreamily up at their camera. Some thought it appropriate to dress in costume. I’ve seen Indian chiefs, aging rockers with their guitars, knights in armor, men with dogs, men proudly holding fish, men trying to look bad ass on their Harleys. It’s as if they are trying to attract other men. 

The expressions are priceless. Some men smile nervously, some offer that startled, ‘deer-in-the- headlights’ look. Some men try to look like a badass when in reality they probably beat their wives.  Other clueless guys take selfies in front of their mirror with their unmade bed or open toilets as photo bombers. Clearly, these are men who have no idea what women want.  Or at least THIS woman.  

I might start a side hustle offering to improve men’s profiles.  I’d write their stories using original content, correct spelling, and the oxford comma. I’d take new photos that are lit properly and in focus. I’d offer suggestions for attire and hair and beard care.  But at the end of the day, they’d still be… them.

I will continue to search for the male version of me, but in the world of online love, you have to be patient, find the humor in humanity, and manage your expectations. Or else you’ll end up eating meat loaf in a Cracker Barrel with some guy named Earl. 

September 14, 2017

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“Yes, I’ll have a TV spot, some VCM, 2 schedules of radio, a direct mail piece … oh, and refresh my web site with some new SEO.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll be right back.”

If an ad agency were a restaurant, it might go something like that.

But it’s not.

Forgive the restaurant metaphor, but it seems so appropriate. Clients shouldn’t be selecting from a menu, yet there are still agencies that attempt to sell “today’s special”. Isn’t every advertising problem unique?  Shouldn’t it be cooked to order?

While I have been in small market advertising all my life, surely the philosophy is the same no matter if you’re in a diner or a white tablecloth establishment. Clients need to trust that you are preparing exactly what they need. They should feel your passion, concern, interest, and enthusiasm. They deserve lavish communication and want direction!

Clients – and customers – are gold. They come first. Always. It should be the underlying philosophy that drives every agency action.   

And everyone in the agency needs to understand that. Before any programming, coding, writing, shooting, editing, or media placement begins, every creative person who touches the project needs to know the goal of the client. And, just because we have a special on lamb chops doesn’t mean we should serve them to everyone. If you’re trying to sell the thing that will be the most profitable for your agency, then you’re doing it wrong.

Finally, everyone likes to dabble in the kitchen, but there can be only one chef. That’s the Creative Director, who is responsible for serving up a final course that translates into client success.  Even if it’s something that is not on the menu.

 

 


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