What on earth possesses a successful, accomplished woman — independent, with no one who’s the boss of her — to get a bug up her butt and get married — again!? It’s almost as if at 62 some demon — a wrinkled, white-haired three-legged one — simply grabbed her soul’s remote, plopped his ass into her LazyBoy and started pushing buttons. Had it not been for the deliriously happy grin that spread across her face as she uttered those fateful words, I’d have felt sorry for her. But she was my friend. I forced myself to be happy for her instead.
She’d met him at a Sunday morning “silver singles” group and they’d been joined at the titanium-replaced-hip ever since. Our regular yentafests miss her share of the gossip. Our regular Saturday shop-a-thons are now one piece of plastic short. Our regular poker nights are minus her contribution to the winner’s spa fund.
No sooner had my better-you-than-me kicked off its Choos and settled comfortably into my gray matter’s chaise, than a try-it-you-might-like-it leaned insistently on my doorbell. And I had to admit it. There could be good reason to (gulp)
trip over jump the broom yet again.
Reason #1 – I love good food. Everything about it turns me on — the sight, the aroma, the taste as it slowly teases its way over my tongue. And I enjoy watching my guests enjoy the dishes I’ve created. I tingle as they close their eyes and that smile of satisfaction only a chef could appreciate slowly spreads across their faces. But I’m sorry; I could really use a little help in the kitchen. I love shopping for ingredients; I hate unloading the car and putting things away. I love creating incredible dishes; I hate the torture of the prep work. I love messing up the kitchen as I work; I hate cleaning it afterwards. Yup, some testosterone in the kitchen doing the crap I hate would be nice.
Reason #2 – I love to travel. One of the greatest pleasures in the world is traveling to other parts of it and experiencing the people, the cultures and, of course, the cuisines that make us all so very different. Many of the most wonderful memories of my life were born from vacations with my daughters. But now that they have lives, a handsome onsite travel companion would be nice.
Reason #3 – I love to shop. But I could do without the labor of schlepping my finds from store to store. A little muscle to manage the movement of goods would be nice.
Reason #4 – I love snuggling. California is gorgeous and the weather is great — for most of the year. But for our ‘bone-chilling’ below-sixty nights, I could use a little extra warmth. My dachshunds, Lilli & Clifford try really hard, but at less than twenty pounds on either side of me, there’s not a lot they can do. Being wrapped in a couple hundred hairy pounds spread out over six feet would be nice … very nice.
Reason #5 – I love security. Yes, I have a pair of vicious guard dogs — who can be bought for a good cookie or two. And although I can shoot a hair off a gnat’s ass at twenty paces — as long as I’m wearing my glasses — a man who can do it at forty would make me happy. Besides, shooting is much like cooking. While I enjoy it and I’m good at it — I hate the maintenance. A sportsman who enjoys the oiling and the cleaning and the cleaning and the oiling would be so nice.
Reason #6 – I love romance. I love little texts, notes and voice mails that say someone special is thinking about me. I love impromptu kisses and embraces just because. I love getting flowers (especially my favorites, lilacs, in the spring) and little sparkly things for no reason at all, except to say that someone loves me very much.Yes, I know romance has a different meaning for men than for women. And as long as he doesn’t wake me when he’s done, even his version of romance would be nice.
Nice? Indeed. Free? Hardly. There is that toilet seat issue — men just don’t get it. And I’d have to give up at least one of my half-dozen closets. And I’d have to share my garage. But while I love my solitude, even more wonderful are the tingles that travel my spine when that shared garage door opens … and he’s home.
Hmmm … Sunday Silver Singles, huh? It appears perhaps my Sundays are free after all …