An Interesting Slant

When Manny the obese puggle cocks his head because he thinks he hears a food bag rustling, you can barely notice his multiple chins. Same with pictures of guys on computer dating sites; the head cock is a sure sign that the in-person meeting will be marred by disappointment and fistfuls of extra flesh.

It's not that I object to the extra flesh. My own potato head physique boasts a few extra flaps and rolls of its own. It's the feeble attempt at airbrushing, the painfully obvious tilt of the noggin to give the illusion of visible bone structure. Guys, I say wear your extra chins as proudly as I wear my spudly belly. I'm not even advocating full disclosure. There are ways to hide a muffin top so the rest of the world doesn't have to see it, and there are ways to disguise a cluster of chins without looking like your gazing at the stars in a picture taken in broad daylight.

My thinking is a little bit different when it comes to the attributes that aren't visible to the naked eye. I've come to realize that honesty -- or anything approaching full disclosure -- is just bad strategy. In my age group, most of us share at least one thing in common: a failed marriage. And even though most of the guys I've met, by their own accounts, spent years being victimized by a psychopathic spouse (I've shared a few stories of my own), I know, intellectually, that, on average, we can all legitimately accept about fifty per cent of the blame.

But there's no need to reveal your imperfections in your profile. When I was younger, I was the kind of girl boys could bring home to mom. Polite, pleasant looking, sexually repressed, and, theoretically, possessed of some considerable earning potential. Well, now I'm dating men who are the same age "mom" was back then, and the years have stolen some of those appealing traits. What I bring to the table now is not necessarily what mom would be counting on for her precious boy. And the precious boy, now fifty-something, is probably not spending hours daydreaming about an edgy, sometimes impolite old broad with the measurements of an Idaho potato.

They've realized that mom was right after all, and polite, pleasant looking, sexually repressed, and, if not earning potential at least a fat bank account are the things that make for life happily ever after. Sure, I might be good for a few yuks, but who needs to be laughing in a double wide if there's someone out there who brings more to the table, like drywall and ceiling fans and a real roof.

I'm going to re-up on the computer dating sites, and this time I'm going to pretend to be, let's just say, a more appealing version of myself. My pictures will be honest and lacking head tilts, because my ego wouldn't be able to withstand the look of horror on a guy's face when he meets me and sees the truth. But my written description will suggest a well put together fifty-something who just oozes firmly planted feet. Gone will be the quips from my "About Me" description which scream whimsical (i.e. unstable and fucked up). I will claim to be honest and sincere and loving and extremely organized about finances. I will not admit to being a blogger (men get a little nervous about being outed), and I will kind of tweak my status -- well, actually, I'm going to lie -- and say I'm already divorced. After all, anyone who's gone through a divorce knows that the most toxic, screwed up people are the ones who are still going through it. Who needs that shit?

So no head cocks in the picture. I'll be staring at the camera head-on, and I'll crop the photos just north of my gut. But my words? They might be a little bit slanted; I'll say whatever mom would want to hear.