If not involved, it's easy to jeer
the coming out of looking for love -
so many ladies of fifty two
but fifty eight? so very few;
so many blondes (thanks to the bleach?)
enjoying sunsets, walks on the beach;
wanting comedians ('make me laugh'),
believing in chemistry and sparks;
everyone looking for someone younger
(good looks the key, not sexual hunger?);
the single photo, unrepeatable,
and, if you meet, unrecognisable -
yes, much to mock if happily married
but these were once as settled as you
and there is bravery indeed
in openly acknowledging a need.
Behind their ever optimistic profiles
are widows rising from the ashes of grief,
the wounded of divorce and separation,
the disadvantaged living incomplete.
Having survived the plague of mid-life trials
they now at least enjoy stress-free relief
though maybe scarred by past humiliation
through macho infidelity and deceit.
No wonder many women are distrustful
perhaps still bruised by previous disputes.
It's easy here to ignore suitors' antics,
delete the messages, withhold replies.
Magnanimously some deflect the lustful
with humour, knowing not all men are brutes
and, still remaining hopelessly romantic,
ease male hurt with sensitive white lies.
But men and women both must face dejection
as part and parcel of this sort of site.
Sentenced like me to solitary by their ages
(the future just a corridor of numbered cells)
and grown accustomed to one more rejection,
they might despondently accept their plight.
Women imprisoned guiltless by their faces
might well retreat into their hermit shells.
And yet there's always hope which keeps us going
although our web use may become addictive.
Until we've trawled through the entire nation,
New Users might have someone that's Viewed Me.
The Inbox has another message showing !
Fixing on one might turn out too restrictive.
Instead of getting off at the wrong station,
we'd best continue travelling hopefully.
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