online dating, online schmating

Our story so far: After almost twenty years with the same woman, our hero finds himself back in the gene, er, dating pool. Actually, to stretch the metaphor, he finds himself thrown into the deep end, without water wings, and trashing his way to the side, where he clings like , um, something that clings to things.

Where do middle-aged men without George Clooney's looks start searching for romance again? Bars? Nah -- too loud, too smoky. Plus they are too indiscriminate, as some are looking for love for the next five hours, others the next fifty years. And everything in between.

At work? Pretty much illegal these days. Plus Our Hero works in the film and television production field, where the only single women are under 25. Not to mention the "I'm a filmmaker" line simply doesn't work on people in the biz. "Please. You're a set dresser. Get away."

Church? Agnostic. Sports? Not really into them. The gym? I work out at home. Family? Hey, I'm not from West Virginia! Well, actually I am, but still. Mail order brides? Tried that, and my neighbor signed for her. The rat bastard.

Personals. The stigma! "SWM, bald, chunky, seeks Brittney clone." I used to read them in the back of The CityPaper, from the comfort of my Alexandria mini-mansion, sipping gourmet coffee made by my leggy, striking, talented wife. "What losers!" I'd chuckle. Now, well, I still drink coffee. And now I'm one of The Losers! Ouch!

So the 'net has transformed the concept. Now we can search on specific attributes, check photos, even be matched by psychologist-developed personality tools. So I take the plunge. Create profiles on Yahoo!, eHarmony, Match, and the obscore ActForLove.com. How does it turn out? Stay tuned... but it appears the stigma is finally gone, and I'm pretty certain this is what Vint Cerf had in mind when he created the Internet 30 years ago.