sold on her own formula, Franny was not expecting blowback. She asked us to humor her on usernames, then asked for another volunteer. I didn’t raise my hand, but she called on me anyway, noting how fast I’d finished the assignment. I said, “I understand what you’re going for, so I’m leaving out cauliflower and salmon. I’ll just cut to hazelnut gelato and red velvet cupcakes—not that I see myself in either of those.”
“RedVelvetCupcake!” Franny exclaimed. “Bingo! Two down! Who else?”
Another woman, who was typing with only one hand due to a heavily autographed cast on the other, asked if there was a study—a reliable, scientific one based on a large sample—that showed what worked and what didn’t.
Franny said, “Ah know this much. Be positive! Upbeat! Don’t be Debbie Downer!”
We nodded politely. I was already worried about the course evaluation I’d have to fill out and how honest I should be.
The same classmate asked, “What I was thinking of specifically was how much do you have to hint about being a willing sex partner? Because isn’t that really what men want, bottom line?”
Whom to turn to but Joel and William? We waited. William said, “I think Joel would be better for your boy-girl stuff.”
“Could you repeat the question?” Joel asked.
The woman in the cast said, “Like in real life, aren’t men looking for sex, even though the request is in code?”
Franny pressed a button, and a new slide appeared. Gesturing toward the screen she announced, “Ah did my own survey of words that send a wink in that area. Here we go. ‘Passionate’ and ‘affectionate’—those are easy. And these phrases: ‘loves to cuddle’ . . . ‘hold hands’ . . . ‘moonlit walks on the beach’ . . . ‘I’m great at back rubs and foot rubs’ . . . ‘massage your scalp,’ which came up a few times . . . ‘great kisser.’ And there’s one that should only be used if you want sex on the first date: ‘high-octane hormones and high-touch sensuality.’ That’s a direct quote from a JDate profile.”
I must have eeeyewed loud enough to catch Franny’s attention because she turned squarely to me and pointed.
I wished I’d kept my groans internal. I asked as pleasantly as I could, “Isn’t it a little slutty to call yourself ‘passionate’ or ‘craves intimacy’ online for all the world to see? Isn’t that what Craigslist is for? Isn’t that using a dating site as an escort service?” I felt compelled to explain that I was a widow, and even though I was ready to date . . . well, none of this was coming easy.
Franny said, “First of all, God bless. Second of all, you’re here! You came! That’s the headline: Gwen is ready! Everyone? Gwen. Is. Ready!”
When no one echoed her slogan, she tried, “We’re all ready! And y’all know what that means? We’re ready to write our profiles! Get out your pencils and your keyboards.”
A gray-haired woman who hadn’t yet said a word asked, “If you make a joke, should you write LOL after it so they know you have a sense of humor?” Her follow-up: “Should I describe my politics as ‘middle of the road’ so I cast the widest net possible?” Others asked if they should mention their children, their salaries, their allergies.
Oh, it was tedious, twelve people trying to sound appealing but not desperate, trying to appear intelligent, witty, healthy, toned, and open to romantic love and its inevitable activities.
I didn’t employ “passionate,” “affectionate,” or even “friendly.” I announced in three different ways that I was new to this, that I was a widow after a long, faithful marriage. That I was nervous. That friendship would be a good and comfortable place to start.
When it was my turn to share, my short paragraph earned a literal and figurative thumbs-down from everyone except William. I sounded sad was the main complaint. I sounded unready. “Frankly, kinda pathetic,” said Susannah, a recent college grad. “Reluctant,” said another. “Like someone put a gun to your head,” said Joel.
“Make stuff up,” said Franny. “After my first profile got no hits, I added ‘I love to cuddle by a blazing fire and bury my face in your shoulder during a scary movie’ and that same day I got three e-mails.”
I didn’t say “No, thanks” or “Over my dead body.” I conceded that I would tinker a bit and leave out the widowed part since it was already noted under “relationship.”
Franny insisted my profile had to be romance-ready today, now,