Vol. 3, Post #95 State Of The Union

It's a new world order in dating, and I am SO here for it! Sex tips for girls* (*or maybe folks who are holding on to mid-life by a thread). A dating odyssey for Young Olds (people with readers).

^^^If you live in and around NYC, you no doubt see these @PhoebeNewYork images. This one seemed apropos.

Happy New Year, Dear Readers (we all know that a new year celebration in the midst of the desolate January freeze when, spiritually, no one is feeling renewal is just an antiquated Gregorian calendar play, but whatevs)! I hope you enjoyed whatever you did for the last two weeks while Shove was on vacation. Here’s what I’m up to, what I’ve learned, and what I want you to think about too, as we dip a toe into 2026.

Does this ring a bell? Early last summer, someone from Hinge reached out to me and asked if I’d consider working with them on both original content for their member newsletter (which weirdly I’ve never seen) as well as give them some feedback on a few new features they have added to their dating app.

I was flattered by the ask; the money was good; and it gave me a chance to try out Hinge because I’d never used it. I stayed online as long as the assignment lasted, and then didn’t give it much thought. I wasn’t feeling compelled to date online after the paychecks stopped coming in, but as you all know, I think online dating is just fine, as long as the roller coaster effect doesn’t make you queasy, as it can be a wildly uneven ride. Supply your own barf bags.

Hinge rang me up again last month, just as I was going off-duty for the holiday break. Same question: Did I want to give them some content and likewise, review some new and updated features? Sure.

It wasn’t until I was about two days into this new collaboration with Hinge when “they” realized I was not in fact online. I hadn’t deleted my profile that I made last summer, but it certainly wasn’t active. A gently worded email from my connect at the dating app, reminding me that unless I was online, chatting with potential dates, etc., I wouldn’t be able to gauge the full extent of what was being tweaked, was all I needed, so I rolled up my sleeves and started working the app as if I was looking to date.

I mean, I guess I AM looking to date, but in the most lazy and roundabout way. I’m in absolutely no rush and I am interested in a few different men that I know IRL. Nevertheless, I knew I had to go into this Hinge assignment with intent, so, I started chatting.

I learned a few things, pretty quickly.

First, of the eight or nine men that I swiped on (#sheworkshardforthemoney), at least five of them faded fast after we initially started talking. I have somewhat of a formulaic way to approach online dating, in that after we “match,” I say hello, ask a question or two, and if the banter is good, I always suggest that we move to a call or text.

The latter I do for a few reasons. I HATE messaging anywhere besides the phone — I don’t use Facebook Messenger unless I MUST, and I don’t love checking IG DMs either, except for my Tarot account. On Hinge, you can’t edit a message, so when I’m blindly typing away, or voice dictating, there is no way to correct syntax or grammar and I hate that.

Back to those Fading Five…either they didn’t keep up the banter past one or two exchanges on Hinge, or they didn’t follow through on my invitation to talk off of the app. Either way, with each of those dudes, I let about 48-72 hours pass (longer if we first connected over a weekend) and when I didn’t hear from them, I unmatched with them. Easy peasy. I never gave any of them a second thought.

Of the remaining three — two of them had something fascinating in common. NEITHER of them was actually interested in going on dates. I’m not sure if they just wanted to chat but both of these guys did follow up and texted/called me after they had my number, and in both cases, it went absolutely nowhere from there. So, after a week or so (I haven’t been good about going on Hinge every day, but frankly, I prefer that. I think online dating is best done when you really have very little skin in the game, as it were), I went back into Hinge and unmatched with them as well.

I was sort of surprised that one of those guys was just a talker, not a planner. We had instant and really good rapport — better than I’ve had with others online. One of my “prompts” on Hinge is a vocal option (that’s one of the newer features they asked me test out) where you can record a quick message. My message says, in summary, “If we date, you’ll find out that I read Tarot, that I want to live in Rome, and that I write a sex and love and dating column for people in midlife, so start thinking about what you want your alias to be.” And the guy I’m referring to? He started his convo with me by writing, “I like Brenda.”

I was stumped. “Who’s Brenda?”

He wrote back, “That’s my alias. I want to be known as Brenda in your dating column.”

“You’re on!” I wrote.

So began a week of texting with Brenda. We found out that we even had a good friend in common. And then…nothing.

We had been deep in a latke discussion about a week after Christmas, as I was behind in making my usual twenty pounds of fried potato pancakes for the masses at Hanukkah, when I realized that neither one of us had reached out to the other in a few days. And then it was a week. And then I unmatched with him. Again, I gave it very little thought. I enjoyed the banter and we had remarked that our light and airy rapport was kind of fun and sexy (and very easy to volley back and forth) but since he was making no plans to meet up, I sure wasn’t suggesting any.

That was one of the things I told myself that I’d do differently if I investigated going online again, for pay or for play. No plans, no suggestions about where to meet, nothing. Literally, not lifting a finger, and just seeing what “they” do. In this case, not much at all.

This brings me to a post I saw on IG by @therapyjeff. I’ve shown his clips before — this one was from the end of 2025, marked as the most favored post of the year. Boy, was it EVER! I think it speaks to what women (in my case, ME) will and won’t do to attract a man and, conversely, what women (me) are looking for in a connection with a man. I loved every word he says.

To wit — here’s how/why he thinks men have been “getting away” with it for so long. Like maybe my friend Brenda:

Take a listen — and when I write, “Take a listen,” I want you ALL to listen; everyone into the pool on this one!

Get that? Just “grow the fuck up” is his advice. Simple, right?

Well, let’s continue.

Here’s an example of a guy I met on Hinge who most certainly HAS grown the fuck up. His name is Shane. He is a super cutie, maybe a tiny bit too young for me (46) but I liked his photos, his prompts, his overall presentation and since I don’t really give a fuck what happens on Hinge*, or anywhere else, I sent him a “like” and we matched. We started talking shop immediately.

*Of course I am being glib. I do care and in the case of Hinge, I am currently being paid to care. But I do mean that I’m not married to any outcome if the outcome is sub-par.

Shane started out by asked me if I thought we lived too far away from each other. He’s outside the Berkshires. “I don’t really give that a lot of thought,” I wrote back. “I think we’re an hour away and my last important relationship was with a man who lived 3+ hours away, but if that’s not working for you, no biggie and all the best!” I assumed we were done talking.

He wrote back immediately, “We’re only an hour away? Cool. Tell me more about yourself.”

We covered scuba diving, forest bathing, me on drums, him dabbling on guitar. Convo was going great. Then he asked if I had kids.

Now THAT? That is an emotionally evolved man, or at least, a sane one. Good luck, Shane!

I realize I am ricocheting a bit all over the place (more about why that might be in a minute), but that conversation ^^^^ just seemed so simple and so civil. And leaving it felt just as easy and good. Dare I say, I was ENJOYING this online experience with Hinge, but I still wasn’t sure it was about Hinge and its new features, or me and my new features.

This brings me back to TherapyJeff again.

Here’s a video that he released last week, which covers what he calls the “three ways you are sabotaging your dating life without even knowing it.”

Again, I implore everyone to take a listen. Because I was not entirely flabbergasted, except, yes, ENTIRELY FLABBERGASTED that I was totally guilty of #3 with my last boyfriend. He looked good on paper. And (quietly said) I was not into him. Especially the last few months we were together (and I broke up with him about a year ago, so Happy Anniversary to me wising up about this). Every one of my friends sensed I was “trying” too hard to stay in it. I was bored. I didn’t really want to fuck him after the first blush wore off. I thought he was prone to being pompous and yes, I admitted this recently to a set of friends who said this they noticed this from the beginning, and ugh, it did get worse. In the end, I didn’t want him around my house. I mean, hello?!?

So, regarding this latest experiment with Hinge (along with my self-imposed fall and winter break around dating that I’ve really really loved — the nightgowns and fuzzy socks and singing to the dog and rewatching “The Sopranos” and going to bed at 8:30 pm. or 3 am., depending on whatever the hell I want to do in that moment), maybe that’s why the idea of chatting with new men who are strangers to me is about as pulse-raising as grocery shopping. Not BORING, but not agitating and therefore, easy to pick up and put down at will. As TherapyJeff points out, I already enjoy a truly delightful and complete life, so a man who can add to it is the only man I want. And likewise, I am paying more attention to the things I’ve done in the past that have sabotaged my dating life, so as to not do it again. Ever.

Welcome to 2026, Abbe! My, how you’ve evolved!

Postscript — I wrote above that I am ricocheting all over the place — I went to the ER this week. I am FINE. But I had a tingling, numb spot on the left side of my face and what I assumed was a sinus infection (although I’ve never had one of those) was not in fact a sinus infection, nor was it Bell’s Palsy (thank you Sweet Merciful Jesus) but because it was on my face, and therefore, near my brain, my doc wanted me to go to the emergency room because neurological trauma can be a mini-stroke, etc. Seriously? Seriously! I am fine but I lost a full day to the hospital. Which is why this is a day late. Sorry, Darlings.

Post-Postscript — I do have a few dates on the book for the next couple of weeks. One is with a man I met on social media via our friend group, and one is with a man that I met on Hinge. Both seem lovely in every way. And both fit into TherapyJeff’s suggestion to date someone who fits into my identity — they are both artistic, smartypants weirdos. Not an Ira among them. 2026 is feeling pretty exciting already, not because I’m so amped up (actually, the opposite), but because I know exactly who I am and who I want to be with as I continue to age like a fine wine. How ‘bout you? Is this going to be a vintage year?

Let’s pop our corks together, Dear Readers. I’m here for it!