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After 10 minutes of this, my neck went out on me, like one of the Three Stooges. I made a few practice casual touches, but he didn't respond.Then I met a man who was as far to the left as I am, in the weeks before the presidential election! My consultants said that I should pay attention to this.
They like to think that they are "closest to Buddhism," and "open to the magic that is all around us." They are "people-people." They are "open-minded and welcome all viewpoints." They are rarely seeking religious nuts like myself -- rather, they are seeking open, non-judgmental women.
(The frequent reference to wanting a non-judgmental woman makes a girl worry: What if you're pretty non-judgmental, but then Larry Craig asks you out for coffee, or Buzz Bissinger, and little by little, more is revealed?
It means they get a pass for a week or two, or a month. I would say that CPAP machines are the greatest advance in marital joy since the vibrator. This – subscribing -- means you can communicate with people at the site, instead of just studying the profiles, questionnaires, preferences and photographs for free. My preferences are smart, funny, kind, into nature, God, reading, movies, pets, family, liberal politics, hiking; I prefer sober, or sober-ish.
It transforms an experience similar to sleeping next to a dying silverback gorilla into sleeping next to an aquarium. So the first morning, eight profiles of men varying in age from 54 to 63 arrived by email.
So I didn't give up, even when that day's date had an unbuttoned tropical shirt, or explained that there is no real difference between Republicans or Democrats. The only iffy answer on his questionnaire was that he was "middle of the road." I dropped him a line. It means the person is Tea Party but would consent to getting laid by a not-hysterical liberal, which rules me out. We went out four times in rapid succession, for coffee, lunches, a hike.
Sam told me not to give up, that I would meet a guy who was worthy of me, quote unquote. One of the bad coffee dates was a kingly little man who bore an unfortunate resemblance to Antonin Scalia, complete with tasseled loafers, who was snotty and disappointed until he figured out that I was a real writer. I saw the profile of a handsome religious man, who had graduate degrees, a great sense of humor, and did not look like Antonin Scalia. A man with a graduate degree, great sense of humor, spiritual but not religious, wrote to say he loved my work and felt we were kindred souls. He was very sweet and open, but had a compulsive Beavis and Butt-head laugh. We had chemistry, laughed a lot, sent lots of emails. I thought, in my mature and/or delusional way, that this would come, but it didn't.
But sometimes I am lonely for a partner, a soul mate, a husband. I rarely missed sex: I had tiny boundary issues in all those years of drinking, and by my early 20s I had used up my lifelong allotment. I do love what Wodehouse called the old oompus-boompus when it happens to be in progress, but wouldn't go out of my way.
Additionally, I have spent approximately 1,736 hours of this one precious life waiting for the man to finish, and pretending that felt good. What I missed was checking in all day with my person, daydreaming about him, and watching TV together at night.
A 60-year-old man does not fantasize about a 60-year-old woman. I went onto with a clear knowledge that relationships are not the answer to lifelong problems. But I have come to learn that this means they think of themselves as friendly.
They are "glass half-full kind of people." That's very nice.