So, you’re suddenly single, or single by a series of humiliating and bewildering degrees, and you find yourself in the prime, final ten to fifteen per cent of your life alone.
Also, you are allergic to cats.
Or somehow cats are not enough.
We’re here for you.
You’ve tried them all: Tinder, Grindr (not a hotter Tinder, it turns out), FurryFriends (not at all what you thought), PamperedGals, MidnightCowboys, ReasonableBrides, Unpicky, and DamagedGoods. And yet you have not secured a perfect mate to hold your hand when it happens.
That’s why we made LastDance.
LastDance is the app created for you, by people who know you, and also know that you’re not entirely sure what an app is.
Finally stop attending church potlucks, where Mr. Barker calls all “you gals” Princess Pea, and where Mrs. Marcasiak insists on spoon-feeding any eligible widower “Hawaiian-style” green-bean-and-mushroom casserole even though this has often resulted in the Heimlich maneuver.
Whether you’ve been divorced, divorced twice, or divorced six times, there’s an equally divorced person looking to marry you before even getting to know you. As a woman in her fifties, you may think that an “Eat, Pray, Love” romance has passed you by, but there are plenty of guys in their late sixties and early seventies who would jump (maybe not jump) at the chance to be cared for by you. As a man in his mid-midlife-crisis years, you may worry about your diminished capacity, but soon enough it won’t matter so much whether you can “perform” as whether you can “drive.”
If any of this describes you, you’re ready for one last LastDance.
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Here’s how it works:
No need to sign up online. A polite young man or attractive young lady (who, if you were just twenty or forty years younger . . . ack!) will come to your home or apartment or facility and install LastDance on the phone that your son uses to keep an eye on you. When you are ready to love again, just touch the throbbing heart occupying most of your home screen . . . and make a date for your LastDance.
It works the same way as that thing your adult daughter uses to bring home men with face tattoos and no visible means of support. Only better.
There’s none of that confusing swipe-right-or-left rigmarole. Thanks to LastDance’s state-of-the-art A.I. (don’t worry about what that means), you simply respond aloud to profiles, like you would in ordinary conversation.
To approve:
- “He seems nice.”
- “She’s all right.”
- “So this is what it’s come to.”
To disapprove:
- “He’s Larry all over again.”
- “She’s got a belly—I mean, so do I, but I earned mine.”
- “Not even when I was doing coke.”
Once you’ve got a match, LastDance will take it from there. We’ll make a reservation at an affiliated Olive Garden, where you will enjoy two-for-one entrées and still be home before dark.
We know that you haven’t talked to anyone who is actively listening to you in a while, so we’ll supply the surefire conversation starters:
- “Tell me about your [organ that you also have a story about].”
- “What’s that on your forehead?”
- “There are so many things left on my bucket list . . . sex things.”
No one ever puts a current photo on dating sites, and LastDance recognizes that. Instead, your profile pic will be of you when you looked your absolute best—be it in your thirties, or earlier than that—so your LastDance partner can imagine you that way when you finally meet. (Please crop out deceased spouses or exes you wish dead.)
LastDance: We’ve Saved the Last Love for You.TM
