To date, I haven't included real age
for the Commentary page
By Teresa Leo
I'm 44. There, I said it. Nothing around me simultaneously combusted. A giant fissure didn't open in the earth and swallow half my neighborhood. No dogs are pawing at their ears because they heard a sound that makes them want to bury their heads in dirt. But in the world of online dating, I found age does matter, and a little fudging with the numbers can send men howling.I've been a member of a dating web site for almost two months. I wrote a heartfelt, magnum opus of an introductory essay and answered the other questions with brutal honesty. The photos I posted are so current that my hair hasn't even grown enough since they were taken to hit the hair salon. I don't pretend to love sports or to know the names of players to get men's attention; I actually do love sports and could talk about, say, LeBron James until the cows come home.
But I made one fatal error: I lowered my age.
According to my profile, I'm 38--a full six years younger than I actually am. My rationale for such wild exaggeration was that many men in my age group cut off their desired age range at 39. They have no problem whatsoever backing the lower end of their range down into the 20s. There's something about "40 and above" that seems to make men I'm interested in hit the delete key--hard.
It's not that I'm uncomfortable with being 44. I even relish telling this to guys with whom I play pickup basketball. I'll smack-talk if they don't guard me, if they think I'm just some female on the court to fill a spot or look pretty while dribbling the ball. After I hit a bucket or two from the top of the key, I'll say, "Well are you going to guard me now? How could you let a 44-year-old woman take that shot on you?" Most eventually end up defending me like they would anyone else, accepting me as the worthy opponent I play hard to be.
But in the dating world, it's like being a good shooter who no one wants to guard. I'm not proud of posting a fictitious age, but my reason for doing so was simply to stay in men's search parameters. If I sneak into their search results as a 38-year-old and they contact me and set up a date, I have a rule where I confess my real age face-to-face, during the date.
Most men are shocked. They usually need a moment to take it all in, as though I'd just said I'm actually a convicted felon out on parole. "You don't look 44," they tell me, but in the backs of their eyes I can see the calculations clicking. If the guy is in his 30s, I can tell he's running the numbers to unveil the new age difference. If he's 40 or older, I usually sense a little disappointment, as though he thought he'd landed a wild salmon, but ended up hooking a rubbery grouper.
These are the same men, however, who'd posted their real ages, but have shown up on dates shorter than they say, with less hair, heavier, or older than they look in their online photos. I've come to expect and accept this, and am actually shocked if anyone bears an uncanny resemblance to the guy grinning with his golden retriever in his backyard.
Am I a bad or indecent person? Should the dating web site I'm on be alerted to such flagrant age abuse? According to the men I've dated, well, yes. They felt misled and have strongly encouraged me to change my age, or at the very least, to leave it at the top as 38, but then revise my poetically-written introductory text to divulge my real age and explain why I did it.
The irony is that by the end of the first date, virtually all the men seem to forgive and forget the age issue and ask me out on second dates. Once they've had their say, they're okay and move on. I'm left feeling like a sex offender who needs to register with authorities when moving into a new neighborhood.
In Hollywood, where age for women also matters, it's practically the norm for leading men to woo women half their age. We're fed this scenario so often it's more an accepted given than a hair-pulling topic for international debate.
So why should the storyline play out any differently in the world of online dating? Maybe because people could connect as individuals based on interests, good conversations, or just simple animal magnetism. I'm not looking for an Ashton Kutcher and I know I'm no Demi Moore, but lately I've been made to feel like Angela Lansbury. And since she rarely plays the villain, I can't even align myself with her.
Actor Christopher Walken once said, "We are aging but still rampant." That's how I feel--we are all aging, and some of us are downright rampant. So maybe that's a good change for my profile: 44-year-old single female. Honest. Aging yes, but still rampant.
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