I confess that I had concerns about turning fifty. Could
that be the turning point? Would all dating dry up? I’m well aware of online
dating search engines. The searcher can input an age range—some lower number
(possibly ridiculously lower) and an upper limit of, say, 49. The 50s? Ancient
times. Aren’t they the guys that sit at home in vintage “Cosby Show” sweater, waiting
for the latest issue of AARP and repeatedly listening to cover songs by Bette Midler. (Okay, I confess to pining for the Divine one. Click on the
link and tell me you’re not hooked.)
Maybe my fretting over fifty comes from my own search
habits. I cannot recall specifically—a sign of aging?!—but I believe there may
have been a time not long ago when I didn’t look beyond fortysomething. A half century
just sounds so plaque-worthy. And nobody wants to see you pull a plaque from
your backpack on a first date.
Well, the good news is that, almost a full month into
fiftysomething, I am still dating. Three dates. Yes, each man is in his fifties
as well. (I don’t fantasize about helping some young thing cram for a Psychology 101 midterm.) These men have been 51, 54 and—gasp!—58. By golly, each man
remains dating-relevant. Each one is fit, attractive and interesting. Two are
avid paddleboarders, two ski regularly, one runs and swims and all of them continue
to go to the gym. Each one is well settled in a career. Each has varied experiences
and each proved he can participate in that ever elusive two-way conversation.
Refreshing!
Coffee with the 54 year-old from South America was pleasant,
but the connection wasn’t there. That happens. Glad to have met him.
Coffees with the other two may actually lead to second
dates. (One never really knows until that actually happens.) I head to Seattle
in two weeks to see Evan again. He’s taking care of friends’ kids next weekend.
Uncle Evan. That’s way sexier than a boy toy flitting around in Lycra undies
with a glow stick necklace and a plastic water bottle. Evan is genuine and
responds promptly to messages. No game playing, no early signs of flakiness.
Lovely.
I am perfectly content to see how far things may go with
Evan. But, there was unfinished business with Wyatt. He’d messaged me back in
September and we just couldn’t seem to find the right time to meet in Vancouver.
I sensed he was eager to meet and disappointed that our schedules couldn’t
mesh. I headed over today to do some errands and thought I’d message him one
last time just to tie up loose ends. If we didn’t meet today, I felt it would
never happen. And that would be fine. (In my book, one out of three ain’t bad
either!)
Wyatt messaged back. He was busy with plans to go hiking in
the woods near Whistler. Ooh, so outdoorsy. On a rainy day, no less. (I’m a
fair-weather hiker. I’m not fond of mud. Not even for facials.) But Wyatt
planned to head back mid-afternoon. Coffee was on.
Turns out he’s a government lobbyist who advocates for
policy and programming that specifically promotes men’s health and physical
fitness. Clearly, he lives his life consistent with his beliefs. We chatted
freely about the idiosyncrasies of local politics, the differences between
Canadian and American federal governments, healthy and unhealthy components of
long-term relationships and the continuing importance of libraries in
supporting the social and intellectual wellness of a community. The
conversation was engaging and still relaxed. As we parted, he was the one to
say he wanted to meet with me again. Definitely interested. And, yes, I shared
the sentiment. But that next date will have to wait until his return from a holiday
in Israel and Lebanon.
Yes, these men are more than pretty packages. They have
depth. By golly, it’s early, but as first impressions go, I thinking I’m liking
my fifties!
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