Melani Robinson

Author | 1 Year of Online Dating at 50

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Manifesto II

December 3, 2021 by Melani Leave a Comment

…one night Mike was in the city having dinner with friends and he called me when leaving the restaurant. “I want to kiss you,” he said and then asked, “Can I drive to your apartment, and will you meet me outside?” He knew I lived with my youngest daughter and visiting me late at night would not be acceptable. 

“Uh, no. I’m in bed with my faced washed and my pjs on.” 

I’m not sure why I didn’t want him to drive by? I love spontaneity and it was a romantic gesture. He wasn’t aiming for a booty call, he just wanted to kiss me. I regret not allowing that to happen. 

Mike invited me to his home in Westchester when he knew I was driving back from visiting a friend in MA. He knew I would go right by his house on the drive home. I declined that offer too. 

Finally, many months later, he came into the city for the night and asked if I would meet him for dinner. He looked great and it was clear he’d been working out. He was still stout, it was his body type, but I like stout. During our meal at a tapas restaurant, he mentioned how much he liked me and how easy it was to talk. He complimented me on the way I was dressed and mentioned he loved my hands. He said he’d forgotten that I had beautiful hands, a bit later he talked about our first date and how quickly we ended up in bed. He said it was “really good sex” too. 

“Yeah, not really,” I replied, and he belly laughed. I laughed too…

You can read the rest of the story by supporting my work through my Patreon Page. Click here to head there now. This was a hard story to tell. One I never thought I would share, but I think it’s important for you to know it’s not always stories about rejecting men.

The Musician

September 21, 2021 by Melani 2 Comments

Although Jack was not the sort of guy I typically swiped right on, there was something about his Bumble profile that got my attention. It certainly wasn’t his pics. His blurb was cleverly written with pithy humor and good sentence structure. 

“Never Underestimate the Appeal of Good Sentence Structure” should probably be printed on t-shirts. 

Sure, Jack was shorter than the height I preferred (5’10” or taller) and he kind of resembled an old timey comedian whose name I couldn’t recall, but I threw prudence to the cyclone as my swiping finger said, “What the hell.”

It was an instant match, as Jack had already swiped right on me (love when that happens). Bumble is often referred to as “Feminist Tinder.” Only women initiate the conversation and have 24 hours to do so, or the match disappears. Obviously, that’s only for straight dating. With same sex Bumble dating, either person can make the first move. 

I sent him my standard initial message:

Hi, Jack! Lovely to connect. I enjoyed your profile and look forward to learning more about you. What are you up to today?

Jack replied immediately and we texted back and forth for a bit. He lived in NYC but was travelling for the next six weeks for work. Jack, a professional musician, had several gigs across the country, but at that moment was on the West Coast. For the next several weeks, our contact would be strictly digital. That was disappointing. I hate to waste time with perpetual texting when one face to face meeting will likely tell me all I need to know. Do we have that illusive chemistry? 

I know. Relationship experts often advise singletons to go on several dates before deciding if it is a match, but that has never worked for me. I’m either getting naked with him in my mind, or not, and there isn’t much wiggle room. I’m not saying I want to have sex with him on the first date, not that there’s anything wrong with that. What I’m there to discover is if I can imagine myself eventually cat-walking toward a man in my birthday suit.  

Repeatedly texting via Bumble grows old quickly and Jack and I almost immediately transitioned to messaging through our cell numbers. He was quick and entertaining which made me laugh often. I’m a sucker for a man who can crack me up. After several exchanges, Jack suggested a phone conversation and I happily agreed. 

I don’t know about you, but voices are important to me. It’s not that I expect everyone to sound like a radio DJ, but I’m looking for a committed relationship and that means potentially listening to that voice for a long time—maybe the rest of my life. I had better be able to stand the sound of it. Jack’s voice on that first call, well, sounded something like this. 

Ok, maybe not that extreme, but enough like Truman Capote: nasally, with a bit of a lisp, that at first, I thought he was pretending.

He wasn’t.

Then he said something ridiculously funny, seriously inappropriate and I belly laughed. Could I get beyond that voice, I wondered? 

The rest is available on my Patreon Page. Again, if you cannot afford to support my work through Patreon, I get it. We’ve all been there. Reach out to me privately and we’ll work something out. This is a story that is series-worthy. It’s that outrageous.

She’s Back!

September 13, 2021 by Melani 18 Comments

Well, I’m sixty fucking years old.

60th birthday Cooper’s Beach, Southampton

Ten years ago, (TEN!) I started the blog, “One Year of Online Dating at 50” and chronicled 365 days of digital dating. Much has changed in the dating arena over the last decade. There are apps, social media dating such as via Facebook and amid a pandemic, virtual dating. People have fallen in love while Zooming with prospective partners/serial killers living a few blocks away—or even across the pond. 

BUT, as much as online dating has evolved, some things remain the same. There’s still a hell of a lot of misfits to weed through and don’t get me started on the Trumpers. They’re constantly skulking around liberal dating profiles, hiding their red hats and unvaccinated arms. My dating profile used to read, “If you voted for Trump, we are not compatible.” Even that didn’t stop some members of the crimson-lidded gang, so I added the three words guaranteed to make even his most ardent (and sneaky) supporters pump the brakes: 

#BlackLivesMatter

So, let’s catch up. What’s new? How’ve you been? Tell me everything. Heck, we were virtual before virtual friendships were cool—or, well, necessary to prevent the brutal experience of inflamed airways and then death by drowning in lung fluid (because there’s that).

I’d like to catch you up too. Much has happened—lots of good and some downright hellish, but that’s life, right? Let’s start with hellish. I was in NYC at the beginning of the pandemic, and it was terrifying. They knew very little about the virus when NYC was the epicenter. Sirens blared round the clock, and I knew what it meant for those inside the ambulances. Eight million people living on top of each other will create the perfect environment for an aerosolized disease and that virus was doing a happy dance in our city. While many residents escaped to second homes, I didn’t have one to run to and hunker down.

Throughout the pandemic, I was living in Harlem after moving from the Upper West Side, two years prior. My youngest daughter was headed back to nursing school, and I needed a roomier apartment with two bedrooms since we would be living together for the first time in a decade. I found what I thought was the perfect place in Harlem.

The Harlem neighborhood I moved to had several funeral homes and the blocks surrounding our apartment were some of the hardest hit in Manhattan. As the death toll climbed, I would see delivery trucks pull up and drop off caskets. There’s nothing more sobering than to see coffins stacked in rows, while funeral directors scrambled to find storage inside.

I was also in the middle of ongoing litigation with my new landlord.  Half of that fabulous apartment I rented didn’t have adequate heat. My daughter and I had spent our first winter absolutely freezing while fighting with the landlord as he claimed the frigid indoor temp was just in our minds. We eventually called the city, and he was cited multiple times, but even that didn’t motivate him to fix the problem which required properly insulating the basement level as well as replacing the boiler.  Expensive, for sure, but for shit’s sake, it was untenable otherwise. 

When I told a friend and former NYer that I was fighting my landlord and I’d hired attorneys, he said, “Cut your losses and leave. It will end up costing you more than you’ll spend on even the most expensive move. That’s what happened to me.”

I should’ve listened because once it was settled, I had spent more in attorney’s fees than the entire rent for a year and an expensive move combined. Sure, we might’ve technically been victorious as the judge believed we had inadequate heat, but in the end the anxiety we had, feeling under siege in that nightmarish living situation, took a toll on my daughter and me. Then, just as we were supposed to move out, the pandemic hit, and we were in lockdown.

Simply writing about that shit show has given me knot in my stomach, so let’s segue to the good stuff.  In 2018 I shared with you that I had created a scripted series based on the dating blog. For those who missed that post, the next two paragraphs below recap:

I have an insanely talented friend, Michael, who’s a screenwriter in LA. We’ve known each other since fifth grade. He doesn’t usually collaborate, and he told me that when I asked if he would be willing to work together to create a series. Then I begged, used a bit of “decades of friendship” guilt, pestered him some more, read: I was an imperial pain in the ass, until he finally agreed. 

5th Grade

We created the pilot script along with a bible, which is basically, a detailed character breakdown and where the story might go. My friend thought of a fabulous series title, “Broken Heals” and we registered it with WGA. Then not much happened. I don’t have many connections in that world and Michael moved forward with other projects he was in the midst of before he paused to work with me.  

Cue the Jeopardy music.

But wait! 

Pre-Covid another old friend, Lisa, I’ve known since my freshman year in HS, visited NYC with her sister, Laura, also my friend. We met for lunch. Lisa is a brilliant costume designer in LA (check out her latest project, “Malignant”). Anyway, my friend told me she and a group of other talented women had formed a production company. Each woman had a pet project she wanted to produce, mostly movies, but I asked if they had considered a series, and then told her about mine. She said she was open to reading the script. Lisa also said she’d be honest even if it was bad news. I was still stoked, and I sent her the pilot script immediately. 

And she liked it!

Lisa arranged a Zoom meeting that included another woman from the production company along with a potential (and impressive) showrunner. I thought I was pitching, so I began selling the series. A few minutes into my hard sell the showrunner stopped me and asked, “Do you think you’re pitching?” I awkwardly replied, “Um, I thought I was.” She said, “No, you don’t have to pitch. I’m in.” I thought my heart was going to explode from relief and pure joy.

 We needed money for series development and to shoot the pilot episode to sell to streaming. All those Hulu, Netflix, Prime “Originals” you watch, started exactly this way with an outside production company. 

Because I don’t happen to have $1.5 – 2 Million lying around, I began approaching potential investors. Many turned me down but with one avenue I pursued, it looked like it was going to happen. Then Covid hit, the stock market crashed, and investors got nervous. As much as it felt like a gut punch, I understood. Everything was so volatile, and there would be no return on the investment unless/until the project was sold. Obviously, most filming shutdown during the pandemic and there was no clear timeline of when it would resume.

I’m proud of the series premise and it’s about goddamn time we see women of a certain age as interesting, sensual, sexy, complex and full human beings. Paulina Porizkova, a supermodel, often writes about the invisibility of women, herself included, in the age demo “between JLo and Betty White.” Why is that?

It reminds me of the scene in “Something’s Gotta Give” when Harry (Jack Nicolson) accidentally saw Erica (Diane Keaton) naked. He acted like acid had been flung in his eyes. He was overweight and losing his hair and yet he was horrified by her body? Her body was amazing, and he should be so lucky, but we live in a world that reminds women every single day that aging faces and bodies are repulsive. Aging men, on the other hand, are still sex symbols and are often paired in television and movies, with women half their age. It’s insane.

 

If you have any doubt about how aging women are shamed, just say “menopause” in a conversation with a group of men and watch their body language. 

Erectile disfunction has been absolutely normalized. Hell, you can’t swing a dead cock without hitting an ad for the latest ED drug.

WHAT?

AND why, goddamnit, are there very few drugs on the market for menopause and research in women’s health and aging remains sparse too? Well, that’s because researchers have historically been men. That’s changing, gradually, but the more we talk about it and demand menopause be addressed plus NORMALIZED, the quicker women will have relief—and good sex. 

Meme by Marcie Jallali

By the way, who are these old dudes fucking? They can shwing through life with an on-demand hard-on, and yet the age-appropriate women, one hopes they’re intimate with, often suffer from untreated vaginal wall thinning, vaginal dryness (atrophied vagina) and low libido. For a woman experiencing these symptoms it often means going to several doctors including female OB-GYNs to try to find a solution. It’s insane and I won’t even get into the struggle to find someone to prescribe hormone replacement therapy that isn’t the one size fits all estrogen patch, especially on the East Coast. It’s as if doctors are in cahoots with Hollywood. “Hey, babe, your lady parts have expired. You’re officially irrelevant. 

This mindset is exactly what “Broken Heals” will address bluntly, clearly and through a main character who refuses to allow anyone to tell her she’s no longer sexy, sensual or interesting. “Melanie” knows exactly what she has to offer and is as comfortable getting naked as she is in her unabashed desire to have all the steamy sex her hormonally-normalized WAP can handle.

There’s no other series like this AND it’s about time. 

Prior to Covid, streaming services had allocated billions for new content. Now that we’ve all Netflixed and chilled for the last 18 months, there’s an even higher demand for new stuff and more money allocated to buy it. 

Lastly, after a ten-year break from blogging about my dates, I’m ready to do it again. “One Year of Online Dating at 50” was a lot of work, and the content I created was done without getting paid—it actually cost me money to blog. I was trying to build a following, hone my writing skills and make a name for myself, all of which I succeeded in doing. I had little confidence as a writer when I began a decade ago, but I do know my worth now.

I hope you’ll support my work through my Patreon page (click here) now that I’m back to dishing the dirt. I have many stories to tell you, each as ridiculous as the next and it hasn’t been just the men I’ve dated. I’ve been a complete asshole as well. I promise you won’t be disappointed. I’ll post the beginning of new blog posts here and if you’re supporting my work through Patreon, you’ll receive the whole enchilada. Beyond the new dating stories, each month I will also rerelease popular blog posts from “One Year.” There are currently three of those popular posts on my Patreon page. If you can’t afford to subscribe, I get it, we’ve all been there but please reach out to me privately via “Contact Melani” and we’ll work something out. In the meantime, buckle up. I’ve got some stories to tell and the first one, coming this week, is a doozy.

“A woman my age isn’t supposed to be attractive or sexually appealing. I just get kinda tired of that.”

Kathleen Turner

It’s An Energy Thing

January 30, 2018 by Melani 2 Comments

Meet Sulimon and listen as he describes what he’s looking for in a woman. Believe it or not, it has nothing to do with appearance.

Sulimon shares he once had a recording contract so if you would like to hear more of his music, beyond the song included in the podcast, you can find him on Spotify and iTunes (Sulimon Balogun).

To listen to the podcast on iTunes click HERE.

To listen to the podcast from this website, click HERE.

Here’s wishing Suli finds a woman with just the right energy because he deserves every happiness.

PS-My podcast editor said, “Oh my god there was so much sexual tension between you!”

Hello, Old Friends

January 3, 2018 by Melani 12 Comments

Happy New Year!

I thought it would be a good time to reach out via the blog and check in. I know you hear from me with each Single Because Podcast episode, but I’m in need of this sort of contact with all of you.

I’ve been on and off dating apps over the last year. I’ve even had a few experiences that have gone beyond a date or two. Alas, in the words of U2, I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. It’s not for lack of trying, though.

Who am I kidding? Here’s the truth, I’ve been half-assing it most of the time, even with men who might be mistaken for the models on the over-50 dating site ads.

Sometimes it’s just a boatload of aggravation getting dressed up, applying makeup and then squeezing into fucking shapewear to make small talk with a stranger. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to look across the table at a gorgeous man, and I’ve  dated quite a few lately. But, here’s what I’ve discovered and it’s likely because of my age:

It’s not enough.

Now, I don’t mean it’s not enough long-term, what I’m saying is a pretty face won’t cut it even for the casual horizontal hula. Sex just isn’t fulfilling if the person doesn’t grab me—and by grab, I mean all of me. I need smarts, humor and someone with an interesting life. A little swagger doesn’t hurt either. Sheesh, I’m not asking for the moon. All right, the section of my dating profile that states, “Must have given a TED Talk and, don’t try to squeak by with TEDx,” might seem, um, delusional to some.

C’est la vie!

Kill me now.

I’ve also found I would rather focus on my writing. Coupling up just isn’t as important as it once was. I often feel that I’m living my life backward and when I hear people my age speak of retirement I can’t help but shudder.

I married and had my daughters quite young, got divorced, raised them and worked a job I enjoyed but it wasn’t my passion. It was satisfying enough and it paid the bills.

Then, I had a great big beautiful love and was widowed—all by the time I was 45. I didn’t have my twenties to find myself, act irresponsibly then begin to establish a career that was based on work I loved. I’ve only had that for the last eight years and I still haven’t really accomplished anything, dammit! Well, maybe the irresponsible part, just a bit.

I want professional success and that’s really where I’ve been laser-focused. I finished the book about my year of online dating. I’ve sent it out to agents and small publishing houses not requiring an agent submission, but haven’t had much interest. I’ll keep trying and may eventually self-publish if I can’t sell the darn thing.

I worked with a friend of mine, Michael, a talented screenwriter who’s had an amazing career and worked for several major studios. Together, we created a scripted series based on the blog and book. Michael was a wonderful teacher as we wrote the pilot script and bible and although he’s not one for collaborating, he was kind enough to make an exception. The series, a dramedy, is made for streaming services or cable (lots of swearing).  It is called, “Broken Heals” and we’d love to find an audience.

I’ve also been writing a memoir based on the two years my husband and I lived in Russia called, “Mudderland.” Since I had a crash course in screenwriting and wasn’t sure how much I’d retain, I went ahead and created a scripted series, a comedy, based on the book that I’m still in the process of writing. This is a comedy because our life in Russia is a ridiculous gift that keeps on giving–if one is writing about it after the fact instead of living in the craziness, of course. I have the pilot script and series bible finished. “Mudderland” is another project I would love to sell. It’s hard (some have told me impossible) to sell these projects as an unknown, and that’s exactly what I am. If I could finagle a way to get the right eyes on either or both, who knows what might happen? I’m not sure how, but I’m going to keep pushing. With all the female-driven work finally getting attention through people like Reece Witherspoon and her Hello Sunshine production company, all it takes is one person to read it and believe it’s a story that should be told.

So now you know all that’s going on in my life–lots of work and very little lust. BUT, I’m happy and busy and I’m feeling fulfilled. Not as content as I would be if I could actually figure out a way to support myself with my work–but I’m doing everything I can to get there.

I was recently in a DatingAdvice.com article, and if you’re interested, you can read it HERE. It was an unexpected and wonderful surprise and while you’re there, check out the site. DatingAdvice.com is the leading web authority on dating and an excellent resource.

I hope you had a wonderful holiday and New Year. I don’t know about you but I was glad to put 2017 in the rearview mirror. I haven’t slept through the night in over a year. As my grandmother used to say, “Every night I’m up and down like a whore at a picnic.” The cause of my insomnia is clear: the fucking nightmare that is Donald Trump and his insane administration. I never thought I’d worry about nuclear war. I can’t even get out of bed without looking at Twitter. I need to know what that lunatic will destroy next.

*takes a deep cleansing breath*

Here’s wishing everyone peace,  joy and restful sleep in 2018. What’s new with you? Feel free to dish some dirt in the comments section. I always love hearing about your lives.

PS: I’ve really missed you.

Melani

“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Spring of My Discontent

March 21, 2016 by Melani 26 Comments

Yesterday was the first day of spring–and it snowed. I can’t think of a more perfect analogy for the current state of my love life.

I’ve been on many first dates lately—all that began brimming with hope and anticipation of possible growth into something more. Rather like the delicate jade-colored leaves that have begun to appear on the honeysuckle vines planted on my terrace. The ones I know will turn a darker shade of green as they grow and cover the trellis just as they did last summer.

FullSizeRender-22There was the date on Valentine’s Day with a lovely man from Boston. Sure the distance was an obstacle but I’d successfully dealt with that before. I was hopeful, but in his desire to learn more he did something I wish he hadn’t: read every single word I’d ever written and thought he knew me. I can always tell when someone has read my stuff. There’s a false familiarity that makes me squirm. I always ask men to hold off on reading my work and instead form an opinion based on our dates, but he was a master Google-er and had done so before our first meeting. He sent me a bouquet of tulips two weeks later when I wasn’t feeling well, (flower choice was prompted by a blog post from two years ago about my late husband giving me tulips). It turned creepy. His intentions were honorable, for sure, but the depth of his digging left me feeling as if he’d rummaged through my underwear drawer or read my diary.

Then there was a douchebag writer who had me fooled for a minute. He asked lots of questions, and after thoughtfully answering each one; he implied that I was monopolizing the conversation. He also got offended when I made a generalization about writers and the reasons I don’t usually date themUnknown. Believe me, my research may not be scientific but I’d bet the farm on its accuracy. Did I mention that he mentioned (four times) that he was in therapy? All within the first thirty minutes of the date, mind you. Or that he made a joke about a well known sexual predator getting sex during a time when he wasn’t getting any at all? Maybe I’m too judgmental because after all he writes comedy and there’s nothing funnier than rape humor, right?

Next I had a date with a kind and handsome man who’d graciously understood when I had to cancel our first date. When we eventually rescheduled I was looking forward to it. Five minutes into our date I knew there was nothing wrong with him but I felt absolutely zero chemistry as we sat next to each other at the bar. He kept brushing my leg with his and at one point took my hand. Awkward. It didn’t help that there was another man who’d passed by on his way to an empty seat and we exchanged mutual holy-shit-you’re-hot eye contact. Each time I glanced that stranger’s way, he was looking at me with the same intensity. I finally turned my chair away from his distracting and enticing gaze so as not to be rude to my date. When our evening ended I split the check. It was fair, as I had no intention of dating him again. He even said, “There’s a theory that when a woman splits the check on a first date there’s not going to be a second.” We parted with a kiss that went quickly from first date appropriate to “Oh god, don’t use your tongue!” I pulled away and headed to my apartment as he waited for an Uber. As I walked I thought about the man at the bar and a missed opportunity. I stopped for a moment and looked back to see if my date had gotten his ride. He hadn’t and caught me looking back. I felt guilty and wondered if he’d figured out I was contemplating a return. I turned and continued to my apartment but once there I asked my doorman for a Post-it and wrote, “I was on a first date but you definitely caught my eye. I think I caught yours, as well. If I’m right, I hope you’ll call.” I signed it, added my cell number and headed back to the bistro, certain that my date’s Uber had arrived. I skulked around the corner and was relieved to see he was gone.

Unfortunately, I discovered the handsome stranger was nowhere to be found either. I asked the bartender if he had moved to the restaurant for dinner. My plan was to walk up to him, hand him the Post-it and exit. He was with a male friend and I had no desire to be intrusive. She told me he and his friend had left. Dammit! She also said, “He’s in here all the time but I think he’s gay.” Perfect. I told her that I believed we had a connection. The restaurant manager (definitely gay) was passing by so the bartender called him over and asked, “Are the guys who were sitting here gay?” He rolled his eyes, “Of course they’re gay.”

Unknown-1There you have it: my guaranteed attraction to a gay man with whom I am certain is straight. It is a theme that started with Boy George, continued to George Michael and is clearly still going strong.

The following day I turned off Discovery on my Tinder and Bumble accounts. If you’re not familiar with the apps, that means my profile is hidden. I’m in need of a break. Early this morning, with my puffer coat covering my pajamas I headed outside to survey the snow damage to those new, fragile honeysuckle leaves. Some had browned overnight as they gave up and succumbed to the freeze, but other tenacious ones were still hanging in there with a defiant “screw you” to the unpredictable elements.

IMG_3965

I sit here at 11:35am (still in my pajamas as I type this). And as it pertains to digital dating and the precariousness of the process, I wonder:

Which leaf am I?

“Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s party!'” Robin Williams

My name is Melani Robinson and I’m a writer/blogger, and online dating expert living in New York City on the Upper West Side. READ MORE

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