After I was divorced and middle-aged and back in the dating pool, I unfortunately had to kiss a few more frogs. One I recall was a tongue-darter -- very disconcerting and unromantic. And another one was worse, he had bad breath and tasted like a dried-out steak every time I kissed him. Beef is okay to eat, but NEVER to kiss.
I miss the days when gay men had to approach each other in-person and at least pretend to be interested in more than "Top or bottom?" and "Hung?" Now guys are less likely to talk to me when they spot me. Instead they'll find me on Grindr after getting home and then cut right to the crude chase: "NSA?" "Fun?"