Dating at the Granddaddy of All Sites, the pinnacle of dating, will be different, right? I watched eagerly, while couple after couple met, fell madly in love and, yes, married! My fingers twitched as they put in those fatal sixteen digits of my credit card for three glorious months of partnering. Of course, based on the advertising, I knew it would take little more than a day to find Mr. Right.
It has now been six days. No Mr. Right in sight. I spoke to a couple of gentlemen. One actually conversed for four emails before moving on to other pastures. At his age, 82, not sure how green they might be, but he seems to have high hopes. The second thanked me for caring that he had neuropathy in his feet! Talk about romantic.
I put into my profile that no match should be further than sixty miles away. Immediately I received ‘matches’ from so far away I would need two planes, a train, and a guide to get anywhere near them. Although, that’s how Dad said he met Mom.
He used to say he drove as far as he could, machetied his way through the jungle and eventually swung Tarzan-like through the trees before reaching her house. In other words, he was a city boy and she a country girl.
I found myself being soundly scolded by the mavens of the site for making the distance too important. For crying out loud, we ain’t kids here. We’re doing good to find a person who still drives at night! Heaven help my perfect guy if he starts out in search of me, has a memory lapse as to why he’s on the road, and is still driving when darkness descends! He could be lost forever. Do they do Amber Alerts for misplaced seniors?
Distance is very important to anyone over 65. As the young fellow (he was only 64) said, “Can’t drive much with these pinpricks in my feet.” Are you kidding? Driving too far my rear end goes dead and it’s pure hell getting out of the car. Once that is accomplished, I discover my knees have gone into permanent bent mode and require a few minutes to straighten out. At that point if I can get my back to assume the upright position, I boogie on into my destination.
Of course, distance is ultra-important, you nimrods! I don’t care if the possible match can answer the 1500 questions you hit us with; I want to know if he can get out of bed in the morning and can find me when he does. I don’t care if he can make whoopie all night long. Heck, I’ll be happy if he can just rub my poor tired back before dozing off.
Alas, I’m coming to the expensive conclusion that dating sites are for the young in body ‘cause us young at hearts don’t stand a chance of nabbing a mate even as a friendly companion. The old dudes want a young chick. The old ladies have watched ‘Cougars’ way too much and now they want the thirty year old instead of someone they can actually communicate and keep up with on a daily basis.
Me, well, if I have a guy who loves me just the way I am – sometimes deliriously happy, others grumpy as the mischief, and other times just wanting to snuggle with my man – I’ll be satisfied. I want someone who looks at this small turkey wattle at my throat and the wrinkles on my body and knows I worked hard all my life and should be allowed them. He’ll see my senior face and think every imperfection is beautiful, just as I will marvel at how handsome he is in his senior skin.
This dream may never come true, however, I have the joy and memories of a man who did look at me as forever young, though age’s changes refused to be denied. And maybe that should be enough for one lifetime.