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Hookup in nyc in your 40s

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Dating in my twenties and thirties made me feel like Odysseus, trying to choose between dashing myself on the ego-bruising rocks of casual romps or a slow death from unrequited lust for garbage humans. There was the ex who brutally dumped me but wouldn't stop emailing me for months, whose presence at dorky work gatherings made me dizzy; the sociopathic film critic whose shoulder I virtually cried on; the go-nowhere first dates; and the great, wide swaths of time spent single, usually pining after some unavailable director or writer who'd relish my attention and nothing else.

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And lots of therapy. There were a few things that sent me into a panic about turning 40, but the biggest — looming larger than the golden ring of a book deal or a staff job or, like, finally going back to yoga — was what it meant for me to still be single and actively Hookup in nyc in your 40s for a partner at that age.

Not so much even that I was single, but that I cared and what that implied. It just felt really basic, to be frank. There are plenty of things I simply do not give a single solitary fuck about when it comes to what women my age are supposed to be doing.

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So why did this one detail bother me? If you're not familiar with the exciting world of online dating, sites Hookup in nyc in your 40s apps let you set search parameters that range from location to body type to education and, yes, age range. Just as there are movies on Netflix you might never stumble across in your bleary-eyed scrolling, there are plenty of people you might never see through some whim of programming code. Moreover, there's the human factor; it's much easier to reject someone arbitrarily than it is to make an exception.

Those exceptions take effort, and online dating is like Amazon Prime for sex. If it weren't for the algorithms, I could meet all of these people IRL and they wouldn't know I was 40 unless I showed them my birth certificate — ah, the very idea made me irate. How dare they reject me before I could reject them!

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I've had dating profiles on and off for years. Whether they were the ancient Nerve. Eventually, I'd get fed up with the banality of it all, hide my profile or delete the app. It has generally been rote and fruitless, with occasional flurries of excitement, but for someone who makes their living with words, I've had a weirdly difficult time wooing dudes with them.

Still, the day after I turned 40, I decided to fire up an old profile and see what happened.

As I waded through OkCupid's...

I'd taken a break from dating after a quick but hot liaison with a punk I'd met at a Damned concert petered out, but I wanted to, you know, put the vibes out there into the universe. As I waded through OkCupid's endless questions and block of text, I imagined the countless men of New York City setting their age filters to 35 or, gasp, 39, and I wondered if it was true that anyone Hookup in nyc in your 40s didn't accept me as I am isn't worth knowing.

It never occurred to me in a serious way before this to lie about my age, even when I hit 30 or In the context of dating, those ages felt a lot less damning than 40; they felt a lot more viable. As ambivalent as I am about having my own children, there's something haunting about that scene from My Cousin Vinny where Marisa Tomei stomps her foot about her biological clock ticking.

My clock didn't begin ticking louder when I turned 40, but the echo of her boots on the floor did. Before now, the single men I wanted to date weren't interested in nubile twenty-somethings — at least not exclusively — and even in my mid-thirties competition from younger Hookup in nyc in your 40s didn't concern me.

I had time, and if someone wanted to get up in my grill about having kids eventually, well, my mom had me when she was 38 and I turned out mostly okay. But now I'm encountering divorcees and mid-life crises and men who themselves lie about their ages and cheekily confess, "Haha, just hoping you'd be so charmed by the time you clicked that it wouldn't matter!

So if you are in...

So, is lying the answer? My friend Chelsea G. Summers, who is 54, is firmly in favor of skimming a few years off one's age, though always coming correct with current photos.

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Like me, she straddles the digital divide; we remember a time before DOS, but not a lot of dating without the accompanying click and beep of a modem. I had about a year-long run of being semi-seduced by men to have them hightail it, like scared little bunnies.

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It was making me feel like crap, so I went to Europe, specifically Stockholm, and immediately got laid. For the time being, going to Europe is off the table for me, if only because I hid my passport from myself after a long-distance tryst with someone I'd met on a work trip went sideways.


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