I Dipped My Toe In

One of these days, someone will be completely obsessed with you. It will probably be a dog.

Lately, I have been thinking about companionship.

Not in a desperate way. Just in the quiet, honest way that sneaks up on you at a certain age. You are at an event, surrounded by people, and somewhere between the appetizers and the drive home, you realize you might like someone to go with you places.

A man I met online years ago, probably the most decent man I’ve met other than my husband, proposed to me twice. During one of those conversations, he said, “You only want a man in your life when you want one. Not full-time.”

No truer words.

But lately I have been wondering if I might want to try again.

So, I signed up for eHarmony.

This felt like a reasonable decision at the time.

After a couple of days of seeing who was interested in me, I remembered a friend’s wise words. She was in her eighties. She had a Southern drawl thick as syrup, and she almost always had a bourbon in her hand when she was about to tell you something true.

She asked if I was dating again and said, “Let me give you a piece of advice.”

“Honey, they’re all looking for a nurse or a purse.”

To this day, it remains one of my favorite phrases.

I signed up anyway because apparently optimism survives longer than common sense.

Within the first week, I understood two things.

One: online dating had not improved in the ten years since I last attempted it.

Two: if anything, it had gotten worse.

Many men had the same story. Recently widowed. About to retire from a job on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. Planning to move to Memphis to be near me.

Exactly how many men have the same story? One word: scammer. In search of your purse.

After a week, I took my toe out of the dating waters. I dried it off. I canceled my subscription.

Recently, a group of friends, widows and divorcées who have built full and complicated lives alone, were discussing the situation over chips and salsa. We were all sharing our nightmare dating stories and questioning our sanity.

The verdict came from across the table without hesitation.

“Men our age want younger women. Pretty women. That doesn’t include us.”

I sat with that for a moment.

Then I thought, “Speak for yourself, sister.”

I came home and made my peace with the universe.

If God intended for me to have a partner, He would have had Amazon drop him at my door. With tracking information. And a reasonable return window.

Still, no package had arrived.

So, I did what any mature woman does after accepting her fate with grace and dignity.

I ripped off my bra.

I put on my pajamas.

I ordered a DoorDash dinner.

I turned on Netflix.

It was, if I am being honest, an excellent evening.

Maybe being deeply, specifically, unapologetically set in your ways is not the problem they said it was.

Maybe knowing exactly what you want, building a life that fits you like your oldest pajamas, and being genuinely unbothered by anybody with opinions about your thermostat is not the consolation prize.

Maybe that is the prize.

The bra comes off when I walk through the door.

Dinner was excellent.

Gabby is curled at my feet.

Apparently, someone is completely obsessed with me after all.

Warning: Funny story aside, online scammers are everywhere, especially in dating sites aimed at older adults. If you have a friend who suddenly met the perfect man online and he is widowed, working overseas, retiring soon, or deeply in love by day four, start asking questions. People have lost life savings to these scams. The stories are often fake. The damage is very real.”