Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
This one looks a little more promising. It’s like they’re trying to word it discreetly, making it seem like an exclusive dating site specifically for wealthy people. It does not say it’s for sugar daddy—or mama—situations, or that one person in the relationship would have lots of money to pay for the company of the other. And since the next few sites in the search results have sketchy words like escort and champagne room in their previews, I scroll back up to the discreetly worded one.
Clicking on it, I see it looks like any other social media or dating site, with its login or sign-up screen. I try to look around the site without creating a profile, but I’m blocked immediately by a pop-up that gives me the option for a free profile or a paid one with “perks.” Sighing, and since I don’t want a gazillion emails being sent to my already stuffed-full inbox, I open a separate tab and get on Google really quick to create a new email address.
I take a moment to think of something witty, just in case people on these sites will get access to my email address. Taking another large gulp of my wine, I giggle as the new name hits me.
“WillDive4Plants,” I say aloud as I type in each letter. Hopefully, people will chuckle at the innuendo and make them want to message me to break the ice by asking to clarify my screenname. “Sorry, ladies. I will not muff dive for plants. I am strictly dickly.”
I go back on the website and use my new email address to sign up for a profile, using the same WillDive4Plants as the screenname, instead of trying to think of something else. Coming to the first personal question, I’m reminded of what Vi said about some men wanting a woman more mature than a college co-ed.
I shrug, talking to myself as I always do, “Might as well be honest,” and scroll through the calendar in the form to pick my birthday, including the real year. “Sex? Female.” Click. “Sexual Orientation? Straight.” Click. “Occupation? No-vel-ist,” I sound out as I type it in the blank. “Marital Status?” I snort. “If someone is married and on a dating site, are they really going to be honest here?”
I click on the arrow to open up the choices, and I let out a surprised “hm!” There are the usual Single, In a Relationship, Married, Divorced, and Widowed, but there are also a couple of choices I’ve never seen on any form before. Open Marriage and Poly-Relationship are there for the ethical non-monogamy crowd, and then there are some for… honest adulterers, I guess you would call them, although that sounds like a total oxymoron—In a Relationship, and Married, with (Discretion Required) next to each option.
I click on Divorced, since that’s not as much of a dirty word as it used to be in the dating world. I can only think of a few people I know who are still married to the original person they wed. I chuckle, thinking about my best friend’s real-life love story. Vi actually divorced and then remarried her one and only husband. I could never imagine remarrying Art, but in Vi and Corbin’s case, those two went through some shit that tore them apart. Yet when fate gives you a soul mate, nothing will keep you away from them—even if it takes a decade to refind each other.
I move on. “Looking For? Hmm….”
I take a minute to think about this. I’m kind of nervous to just jump in and actually start looking to talk to someone, so instead, I take the chicken way out and choose: “Just looking for friendship.” Then I use the About Me section to state that I’m an author researching dating sites for my next book. I give in and put a little more, saying aloud as I type, “I have not been on a dating site since before I was married, so I just need to make sure everything is still the same or see if sites look a whole lot different than 14 years ago.”
Back when I met Art, the only sites for dating and meeting new people were Plenty of Fish and Adult Friend Finder. There was also Myspace, but that was used more for people you already knew, not for meeting anyone new.
The last step is to add a profile picture. Next to the Upload button is a statement in bold that says there’s a 75% higher chance of having success on the site if you include a photo. I decide to upload my professional author picture that’s on Amazon and everywhere else my name is mentioned on the Internet.
Yes, it’ll reveal my identity, but that would take effort. If someone takes the time to dig and find out more about me, then in my “broken” brain, that doesn’t say “stalker.” That says to me they’re really interested. I’ve read and heard way too many stories of assholes sending out a blanket, copy-and-paste generic message to every woman within driving distance they come across on a site.