In the early 2000s it was decided I would try online dating. The women I was matched with were considerably younger than me. I wondered why this was. Then it hit me: I was an artist, writer, quasi-musician, with a day job that might as well have been called ‘marginally employed.’ I fit a slacker profile. No one with clear ambitions or an actual career was in the least interested. Not that I was disappointed, but being relegated to the bi-curious students & aimless youth was a bit deflating. Sure, I looked like a dude in a band. Possibly a somewhat effeminate dude, who can say? Gay guys mistakenly hit on me, to their chagrin.

Finally I agreed to meet with one of these young women just for the hell of it. I doubted this would be anything other than uncomfortable, as I was probably closer to her mother’s age than hers, but I was in-between projects & didn’t have much else to do at present. Idle hands is a nasty beast for me.

So I get to her house, which she shares with a bunch of other twentysomethings, naturally. We have an awkward greeting on the front porch, then she quickly segues into “Can you help me move some stuff out back?” I pause a beat, then say “Right to the moving of the bodies then? That’s fast,” to which she barely responds. Not a good sign, as she doesn’t seem to share my offbeat humor.

We go out back to move the things, which are either boxes, furniture, or large lawn sculptures. I’ve blanked this out of my mind because we can’t all have total recall of disturbing situations, can we? It’s wet, because it’s Fall in the PNW, & the ground is uneven & slanted. She says (because of my advanced years?) “I hope it’s not too hazardous.” I reply “Well, I’ve lived a full life.” This gets maybe a slight chuckle. Tough crowd!

After the bodies are buried, so to speak, we go inside for some tea. About 10 minutes in, her Dad arrives in a vintage pickup. !!! (the expression inside my head). She is surprisingly not surprised. I, however, am starting to feel some freaky walls closing in.

The Dad enters, settles down with some tea, & proceeds to banter with us. Some minutes tick by. He is older than me, but not as wide as the age gap between his daughter & myself. I briefly wonder if he’s here to vet his daughter’s date. How quaint! But when she suddenly has ‘something urgent to take care of’ with one of her roomies, I sense a 2nd shoe poised to drop.

Sure enough, when talking I glean the Dad is a widower. He has that ‘grieving some still, but ready to move on’ vibe about him. Since we are closer in age, of course there are more pop cultural touchstones. But we come from different worlds. Plus, I am SO not into guys. That’s not even in fine print. It’s right there in the profile I set up.

Here is where my social anxiety rears its quipping head. When nervous, I joke. & this here situation is so disturbing that I can’t help being irreverent & funny. I know what effect it’s having, but I can’t shut myself up. I’m fucking charming this guy with my dark humor at the same time as trying to extricate myself from the bait & switch shitshow I landed in.

As I eventually excuse myself to leave (it seems an interminably long amount of time but was probably no more than 20 minutes), he pipes up with “It’s been so great talking with you. Can I offer you a ride, or at least get your #? I don’t know anyone like you!” I know, dude. That’s because I’m wholly unique. As are we all. Duh. But… don’t hit on your daughter’s queer, nonbinary matches. Bad form. &, just…Ew!