Dear Wally:
I’ m a recently divorced female and I was asked on an online dating site profile what the most private thing I’d be willing to share was. I was wondering if you had some advice? What’s too much to share with a strange guy??
Confused.
Dear Confused:
Because you are dating online, you’ll want to be judicious , cautious and tempting, but not misleading. There are a lot of freaks out there-- an observation that is hardly breaking news…. Full disclosure of the complete dog-hoggin’, lilly-livered , buck- toothed truth right now? Maybe not. Hold some info back. Does your potential guy really need to know that you had lice in 3rd grade? Assuming you got the upper hand on the problem at least a few years ago, you can let that detail slide and still not be guilty of misrepresentation. All new (and maybe even time-grizzled? ) relationships thrive on a little mystery.
Should you share your credit card number, expiration date, and mother’s maiden name? Save that for the 2nd date! Surely some well-meaning member of an ousted royal Nigerian family looking to pay you a few million for your troubles will ask for this information soon enough (if they haven’t already) and you can decide then if it feels right. (It shouldn’t). Do online guys even need to know your name right away? I think not. Too many creepers. Keep the gates to your private life down for a bit and share some harmless, untraceable factoids, if you even want.
I thought about the question, and the context, and came up with this, which is true for me, but not the whole truth either. Maybe it helps you??
Good luck!
-Wally
My Most Private thing I’m Willing to Share With a potential online suitor:
Dear potential electronic (and then some?) suitor: The real answer will cost you dinner and a bottle of wine after a bunch of unrushed, easy time together... We may or may not get there…
But so you don’t go away empty handed right now as you peruse 2 of my 3 dimensions at midnight, here are a few morsels of personal information. Don’t read too much into them and go to bed soon, OK?
It's a matter of public record, and thus not so private, but I brought a goat to school in 5th grade for show and tell and to impress my 5th grade crush Amy. I tied her (Harriet the goat, not Amy) up to the playground stairs when I was in class and she ate the flowers (which goats do apparently). Then Grounds and Maintenance sent my parents a bill.
One of my favorite movies of all time is Spinal Tap. A close second is The Graduate. I will watch any James Bond movie any time.
I used to pooh pooh country music and poke at it with a 5’9” stick. I love country music now and am that 5’9” stick.
I have a scar on my knee from running from the police in a nature preserve back in high school. A lot of us underage kids were hanging out that night and yes, probably drinking. We scattered like wharf rats on a sinking barge when we saw the flashing blue lights of authority. I was doing just fine sprinting in the dark until a huge boulder jumped right out in front of me. I was not caught in an authoritative sense, but more in a physics sense. That and flipping a VW bug onto its roof with some college friends is the extent of my running afoul of the law.
I still have to look twice when I write the word ‘bus’. Wait, does it have 2 s’ s? No, I know it doesn’t but it tricks me every time, crafty little word. Perhaps I don’t ride the bus enough to think about it enough…
I prefer dogs to cats.
I threw up on some luckless little dude at the carnival in 8th grade riding upside down on the salt and pepper shaker and listening to a soundtrack of Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir. When I hear it on the radio now, I feel para-sympathetic rumblings of gastro-intestinal distress. If we get to that stage and you are next to me in the car, and it comes on the radio, you’ll want to pay attention to the ashen complexion and beading sweat on my forehead and give yourself a little space. It’s probably not your fault—I’ve been classically conditioned.
I sing along to Michael Bublee. This is a very private confession because there is no stinkier hunk of cheese than a corn-crusted hunk of Bublee. (Except maybe Limburger?) Get it in your head, Holly wood is dead!! Damn catchy…
Most of my shoes smell at least a little like horse poop.
I like beach hair.
I am no religion’s poster boy.
I make no culinary distinction between canned tuna fish and canned cat food.
I keep a dictionary by my computer. I used to read one under the covers by flashlight at night when I was a kid --until I got hip to The Hardy Boys.
I think we come from monkeys. If you have ever smelled the inside of a guy’s locker room (like I was forced to during High School soccer) and then smelled a monkey cage at the Bronx Zoo, you will agree. There’s hardly any room for debate.
I fully expect to pay for our first date.
I admire the first brave Spring daffodil.
I was scared jumping out of a plane.
I was more scared changing my daughter’s first diaper.
Now off to bed with you…
-name withheld ‘til we know each other better.
Share your innermost personal information with our advice columnist (and entire Blue Stone Press circulation) by emailing: Cwn4@aol.com
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