So, for the past few months, I’ve been feeling really good about myself. I spent my last hiatus working on my outsides – and this hiatus working on my insides. The later is a much harder job. My insides (brain) look like a map of all of LA’s highways at rush hour – some movement but mostly a lot of congestion and honking and yelling and someone’s flipping a bird and all the music and all the talk from all of the cars is playing all at once. What I’m trying to say is – I may be a mental patient. That said – a few girlfriends (yay I have girlfriends and it only took me till I was 56) suggested that it was “time” for me to start looking for a partner. I don’t know what time that is but apparently the clock was running out and my time was now. So – two of them came to my house to help me set up my profile page on a popular dating app. I won’t say the name but it rhymes with Bumble. They wanted to make sure that I didn’t say something stupid and that I picked the right pictures. This is understandable because I would just use pictures of my dog and my profile would say – THIS IS STUPID. I DON’T KNOW WHY ANYONE WOULD DO THIS. So we set up my page – Bumble is linked to Facebook so it automatically put in my age – 56. I said I was a writer and my profile said something fucking retarded like – I love trying new things but I also love just lying on my couch. Emmy Award Winning!!! Pick me!! Aren’t I amazing!!! How have you lived your tired old life this long without me??!! I used some pictures that actually showed my age – not my old Jewish Community Center Cheerleading shots from when I was 13. And boom – I was live! Bumble is called an app for women because you have to swipe on them before you can become a match and you have to write them first. Ugh. Sounded like way too much work for me. Ten seconds later I swiped on a hot bald guy with a goatee. I like this look. Boom goes the dynamite – it’s a match! Ohmigod, my friends said – that was fast. I was nauseated. Not exactly the right feeling to have. Now what. They said I had to write to him first. I spent almost 24 hours coming up with this – based on the fact that his profile said he was punctual. “You had me at punctual.” I know what you’re thinking – that’s the best you could do you fucking writer? I regretted it the second I wrote it. Seconds later he wrote back – “you had me at writer. I’m a Sapiophile.” (I had to look it up too. Go ahead. I’ll be right here. (BEAT) Okay? Let’s continue) Then he said – “Plus, you’re hot AF.” Okay, for those of you not fluent in AF – that means “as fuck” and is a common term with the kids these days. My girlfriend said – this was not good. Anyone who starts that way is just fishing. I was like – really? Cause I’m down to be AF. I’m not usually AF anything to anyone. She said – it has to be more than just a sexual thing. Got it. But, we continued to chat. I told him I wasn’t really into this whole dating thing and was kinda nervous about meeting anyone who I only talked to online. He said – “we should meet. “ So I did what one of my online experts told me to do. “Send me a picture of you holding a sign that says you are who you are.” He wouldn’t. He said “why would you need that?” I said – “because if I don’t have that – the only place we’re meeting for a drink is the police station and I’m pretty sure they don’t serve cocktails in the drunk tank.” He said – “maybe this dating isn’t for you if you think everyone is an abject liar.” I said “if you think I’m going to meet anyone without knowing their last name and googling the fuck out of you – you’re mentally ill.” And then I deleted him. I then spent the next two days thinking about what he actually looked like. Who this liar on the other end of my phone was. And just how fat was he? Like, did he have a barf bucket next to his chair and a beer hole in his lazy boy? I suspected it was someone from high school that I ignored who was now getting even. Or my old boss. She’s fucked up enough to mess with me. I decided not to quit. IDIOT. I swiped on guys left and right. I picked men who were older, younger, bigger, smaller, hotter, fatter, thinner, whateverer. AND NOT ONE PERSON MATCHED BACK. I thought – well I’m probably not in any of these stupid jerks age range which I assume is 24-25 no matter how old they are. And so I decided to change my age. I went on Facebook and changed my birthday to make me 50. Then I logged back in to Bumble. Look at me being all clever and pulling bees in to my honey!! Woot!! Woot!! I wasn’t dishonest though – the only thing my profile said was “I’m actually 56 but nobody swipes on that.” There was a very sexy African American man who was 48 and I said – fuck it – and swiped. Boom – it’s a match. I said hi. He said “just looking at your sexy pics.” Ugh. Here we go again. I didn’t respond. But he wrote more, realizing this wasn’t a good way in for me. We started chatting. He was nice enough but I instantly felt uneasy. Who the fuck am I really talking to? Where are these people? Are they even people? Why is this a good idea? Why would anyone do this to find love? And by the way – I don’t even want to fucking date anyone!! He said – “Lets just have a conversation. It’s all part of the getting to know you process.” I said “I’m a sitcom writer for a tv show called baby daddy. Google me. It’s all there.” What a dick I am. He said he was willing to Facetime with me and show me that he was who he says he is. I almost vomited at the idea. I said I wasn’t sure this was a good idea. He said “Well, what do you want from this?” And I said – “Honestly, I have no fucking idea.” And that’s when I realized – I don’t want this. This is not my idea of meet cute. I liked it better when I just got wasted and dragged someone home from a bar. This online stuff makes it all so impersonal. It’s like a business meeting or an interview only this time both of you can get fucked. Which by the way – is the last thing on my mind right now. I’ve written before about my lack of desire to be mated – and my lack of understanding of why that is. I’m sure having a partner in life is amazing. But for now – this hive is closed. My honey is staying in my jar. And the only buzzing I’ll be doing – is around a fresh joint.