Lovin' At Any Age

I have learned a few things this past week. Knee surgery is a bitch. First, when in physical therapy make sure you always wear the good sweatpants without the hole in the crotch. It's not a good look to be getting your stretch on and have your beaver peak out.  Second, rehab in the daytime a sexy spot for sagging singles. If you're over 75 and single, this is the place to be. Now I'm not putting down "old lovin'". That generation must  know what to do. I mean, they have had long lasting marriages that usually only ended because " death did them part". Plus, there is something sweet about two sets of dentures clacking together resulting in a minty Polident smooch. 

 I recently had a client of mine pass away. Her and her husband were married over fifty years. She was my standing appointment  and every saturday for over four years we would meet at noon. It was the longest relationship I have had in quite sometime.  She would ask me how my week was, tell me how dangerous NYC was to go to alone ( she knew that I adore manhattan) and what her husband was making for dinner. Between them six lives were created and she made it a point to say that marriage and kids is not always " easy and breezy ". But her honesty displayed always resulted in love, patience,  trust and strength that she and her husband had for each other.  With those key ingredients,  " you would be able to work through anything "  she would tell me. That is some recipe this day in age. Every saturday at noon is not the same without her, but may her and her wisdom rest in peace. 

Now let's play the modern day geriatric dating game. My nana, who lives in a retirement village down in south jersey tells me tales of dating in her area. It's the same as any other age bracket , if not worse. The ratio of woman to men is off, resulting in a higher count of females to every male.  Baked goods are a lure woman will use to acquire a male love interest and if he decides to stray towards another female a smack faster than a major league baseball pitcher will be administered to all guilty parties. It's like the show Dynasty but without the shoulder pads and the smell of moth ball clothing instead.  There're is also a lake that these seniors like to relax near during the warmer months. And should I even share with you, that the men like to wear speedos to this leisurely body of water ? Well , I just did so try to shake that mental image out of your head. And in the words of my nana, " things are dangling and swingin". 

 With all this dating information my head is going to explode. Dating is not an easy task , regardless of age.  The most important thing I have learned while listening to the above stories is that micro-mini swimwear will leave little to the imagination and the mental image of two walnuts cascading on the floor keep coming to mind. Alright, alright. I also learned that love, patience, trust and strength are needed to have a long lasting commitment.

 Tommorrow is another day and for now, I must go. 

 I have to check my sweatpants for any holes. 

Excerpt from my book, chapter 6, Mr. Racist

It has been a few weeks since I have blogged.  And so, I am back. I have decided to entertain you with an excerpt from chapter six of my book titled " Mr. Racist." 

The first paragraph sets up the situation of how my girlfriend Tanya and I decided to go speed dating. The few after that explains what I had experienced and heard from my 10-three minute dates. Enjoy!

  Online dating had not worked; neither had being set up. I needed another method to end my singleness, so my friend    Tanya and I decided to go speed dating. I figured this could be a safer way to approach dating and if I didn't like any of the eligible bachelors ( or vice versa ) , I could always chalk it up to fun night out with a girlfriend. 

   Tanya and I chose seats right next to each other, with me first in line to experience any possible weirdos. " Hey, I'll warn you of what's coming your way," I told her. 

    She looked at me and laughed.  " Thanks." 

    

    We heard the opening chime of the spoon to the glass, and the parade of bachelors began. My mini-dates went as follows:

    Bachelor #1: " I think I am drunk."

    Bachelor #2: " I am not a social person and really hate talking."

    Bachelor #3: " The girl next to us, the one I'm going to meet next , is that you friend? I think she may be more my type than you are."

    Bachelor #4: " I have to pee." 

    Bachelor#5: " Your a hairdresser? What would you do with my hair? "

    Bachelor#6: " I'm a bit older than this age bracket, but I fibbed the age detail because I like younger woman. Actually, my daughter is your age and I recently became a grandfather for the first time!"

    Bachelor#7:  " If your a hairdresser, can you tell I am wearing a toupee?"

    Bachelor#8:  " I work at a car dealership, just bought my own condo and love traveling. Stop! ,  I said in my head, I think we have a winner!  But for the sake of the last two guys and the fee I paid, I decided to hang in through the next 

    six minutes. 

    Bachelor#9: " I'm friends with the guy that thought your friend was more his type. If she isn't interested in him, do you think you could tell her I am interested i her as well?" 

   Bachelor#10:  Actually, I have no idea what my tenth date said. He didn't speak much english. And just like a thunder an lightening storm, my quick and easy dating night blew in and out, even quicker.

   " Tanya , I am exhausted and not in the mood to mingle anymore. Can we leave?"

    It turned out she was done too, and jerked her head towards the door. 

   " How many did you check off?" I asked.

   " Three. Bachelors three, seven and nine. How about you? "

   " Just one, number eight. And by the way, you might have a little love triangle with numbers three and nine." I explained the situation to her. 

  " Thanks for the heads up , " she said , "Let's get out of here." 

 And for my blog readers, I did go out with Bachelor #8 which is how he acquired his name of Mr. Racist.