Hoffman looks at my photos and nixes the corporate headshot and mirror selfie. “You want to look natural and inviting. Mirror selfies often give off an air of vanity.” She says the best profile shots feature the three Cs: color (vibrant shades, especially red, grab attention), context (pics that involve your hobbies, like travel or, say, clog dancing), and character (something quirky or funny, “like you in your Halloween costume”).

For the main photo, we do a close headshot where I’m smiling into the camera. For the others, we do one of me outside in a green dress, one where I’m wearing something sparkly, and another where I’m standing on an escalator. This doesn’t reveal much about me besides my aversion to stairs, but it’s a full body shot, which Hoffman recommends. Agreed—as a curvy girl, I want to avoid first-date surprises.

I skip quirky. I haven’t worn a Halloween costume since I went as a pack of grape Hubba Bubba in sixth grade.

One reason I’ve been passive about online dating: Most of the guys have been a little conservative for my taste. (When you’re a black woman in your 40s, why do all your matches look like George Jefferson?) Hoffman says the algorithm, like a boyfriend, can’t read my mind; I need to message and “like” guys I find appealing if I want to start seeing similar people in my results. Plus, being more active should bump my profile toward the top, so I’ll be more visible.

should make my messages personal, advises Hoffman: “Comment on something in his profile and follow with a question.” Dutifully, I tell one bespectacled prospect, “I like melty ice cream, too. What’s your favorite flavor?” I have some interesting chats, but nothing leads anywhere. After a lengthy back-and-forth with a cute guy who asks why I’m still single (beats me!), I try a Hoffman move, writing, “That’s a story better told over a drink.” He suggests... chicken fingers. As in fast food? Is this a sex thing I don’t know about?

But then—success! Someone “likes” me and asks me out within three messages. He’s into photography and makes his own pasta—and he is an Adonis. We have a short phone call, as Hoffman recommends, to set something up. His voice is velvety, but I’m skeptical. That’s online dating: You meet the freakazoids and think, This is the worst. You find someone great and think, Am I going to be on the next episode of Catfish?

I've never liked being alone for a long time and I think it's really hard to take it all out. Unfortunately, this happens for a very long time.