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The best thing about this vast group is that it is comprised of people who self-identify as daters. In fact, they’ve taken the time and trouble to announce that they want to meet someone. The computer then takes this qualified pool of cooperative prospects and starts sorting: by age, geography, interests, pets or no pets, smoking or nonsmoking, on and on. By the time the electronic sorting is over, the millions may be down to hundreds or dozens. Or just one -- the right one, the only one you need.
When Susan decided to give it a try, she found “many, many more men in my age group than I suspected. I guess I thought of online dating as a fringe activity. I had no idea how popular it was. I actually got responses within an hour.”
Mary Ann, a 60-year-old saleswoman, with cheerful blue eyes and steel gray hair, had been on her own for over a decade. As she regained her strength and self-esteem post-divorce, she created a lively, independent life for herself. She bought a townhouse in the greater San Francisco Bay area and decorated it slowly and carefully with shabby chic finds from yard sales and flea markets. She became so adept at refinishing forsaken treasures that an antiques dealer offered her a boutique within his store.
She was busy with her job and her decorating sideline but still found time to sing torch songs with a jazz trio twice a month. She also loved babysitting for her four-year-old grandson, Chase. She never tired of helping him build elaborate castles out of blocks. She couldn’t wait for him to sit in her lap while she read his favorite Curious George stories. They were so silly, and the two of them laughed together, even though they’d probably read the tales a hundred times or more. She was surprised that at this age she had such patience for play, much more than when she was a young mother herself.
Whenever Mary Ann went through a lonesome spell that her full schedule and a hug from Chase couldn’t assuage, she bought another cat. She was up to six, and she admitted that felines had taken over the house.
Mary Ann argued that she wasn’t sure she wanted a man.
“I like my freedom,” she said. “I can buy what I want and do what I want when I want to. I enjoy having everything just the way I like it. I wouldn’t want to move a single picture or deal with someone’s ugly furniture. And what about Chase or my singing? What if someone objected to my spending time doing the things I love?”
“The point is,” she continued, “I don’t want to change. Take it or leave it.”
Like Mary Ann, many women embrace independence so whole-heartedly that they box themselves into an uncompromising corner. The trouble with staying in the corner is that it doesn’t offer a vista or room to expand. It’s stifling after awhile and, of course, it gets lonely there.
If Mary Ann had given some thought to how patient she was with her grandson, she may have realized that she really wasn’t that set in her ways. Her years of life experience had taught her when compromise was rewarding and when it meant giving up a vital part of one’s self. Bending somewhat didn’t mean she had to break her spirit.
We worked on her profile.
Silver-Haired Songstress “I’m a successful, independent, 60-year-old professional with an engaging personality and a lot of vitality. I love the outdoors, animals (especially cats), and browsing through flea markets. Water aerobics and romping with my grandson keep me fairly fit. I sing with a band for fun. Let’s get to know each other, and I’ll sing a special song just for you.” |
Postscript: Mary Ann posted on three sites. After about a year of online dating, she met a rancher and wine grower from Santa Maria, Calif. He has six grandkids, and a pickup truck to help her with the flea market shopping. If they decide to marry -- and they may if Mary Ann can work out her job situation -- the cats are moving to the barn and his ghastly furniture is headed to the basement.
I sat next to Candy at a luncheon. When the conversation worked its way around to online dating, she stopped me cold. “I tried it two years ago,” she said. “I corresponded with a guy for weeks. When we met, he was nothing like I expected. I’ll never waste my time again.”
Before we turned our attention to that day’s speaker, I found out that Candy was still not in a serious relationship. She was waiting, I guess, for the love lottery to surprise her with a winning ticket.
What in life works perfectly the first time you try it? The other day I expertly parallel parked the car. No one was there to applaud. But I was proud that the person who at sixteen was mortified at failing a driving test because of this mechanical maneuver now scooted into a spot with ease. There are countless examples that I could share about not getting something right the first time. I’m glad I don’t give up easily. If I did, I never would have survived putting myself through college, or my first winter in New York, or many of my ultimately most rewarding experiences. Perseverance also paid off when I raked through a mountain of emails and a spate of dreadful dates until I hit pay dirt -- Walter.
The old adage -- once burned, twice shy -- doesn’t mean stop and surrender. I interpret it as a caution to be thoughtful and learn something for next time. Stay in the game, and go get him.
If you watch television, you may believe that people our age are inveterate sex fiends. Every other ad seems to promote a drug such as Viagra. The stars of the ads are mature men, with devilish smiles on their lips, and beside them are midlife women with telltale looks of contentment on their faces. We look like a pretty hot bunch, and some of us are.
However, an estimated 25 percent of premenopausal women, and one in three menopausal women, have low sex drives, according to findings reported by the American Society for Reproductive Medicine. Indeed, a low sex drive is the most common sexual complaint made by women.
Beverly, a 63-year-old systems analyst, was never crazy about the sexual side of her marriage. When her husband died, she was not unhappy that that particular wifely duty was at an end. “Well, that’s that,” she said, stowing away any latent desire.
After a year or so, her kids urged her to get out more. So once a month she donned a red hat and purple pants suit to go out with the ladies. “We meet to eat” was their motto, and lunch sometimes spilled over into the Happy Hour. She had a blast, until a Cosmo or two pulled the topic of conversation around to sex. She didn’t know what to say. She’d never been horny like loud-mouthed Regina. (Well, maybe a little, but she wouldn’t broadcast that fact to a group of ten women.) Sex was not something she was good at or wanted to do or wanted to talk about. She was squarely in the thirty-three percent of women with hypoactive sexual desire disorder, as doctors call it. Frigid, is how she labeled it for herself.
There were, however, some things she did miss. She and her husband had collected wine. She still kept the small cellar stocked with bottles of pinot noir, sauvignon blanc, and shiraz. It would be nice to share a good wine again with a man. She wanted to dance, too. She longed for a partner to take her out on the floor, spin her around, and collect her safely in his arms. Sunset walks. Listening to music together. It wasn’t men she disliked -- they were even better company than the Red Hats. It was the S factor.
If you, like Beverly, are celibate by choice and determined to stick to your guns, there’s good news for you, too. Despite the multimillion dollar ad campaigns, not every man over 45 is popping Viagra like vitamins. Many have opted to put their prowess out to pasture. And it doesn’t make them any less loving and romantic.
No sex does not equal no dates.
Many women want a more robust dating life, but they have trouble setting priorities, getting organized, and moving the ball forward. Let’s take these on, one by one.
Your happiness and well-being should always be a chief -- if not the chief -- goal. But maybe you haven’t set goals for yourself in a long time. It’s fairly common in midlife to drift along until a crisis of some kind demands attention and renewed awareness. Why wait for a shake-up to discover or rediscover your hopes and aspirations? Do a self-review and -- this is very important -- write down your priorities in order. Save them. Think about them consciously, then put them under your pillow and sleep on them. These are not the same as your promises to yourself to file your recipes or rearrange the linen closet. They deserve concentrated thought.
Make a plan to transform thought into action. Break your goal down into small steps (“Write a headline for my profile,” for example) and focus on completing one step a day, or week. Be sure to carry out the step at your peak time of day. Don’t put it off while you read your emails or listen to phone messages, the way many of us start off the morning. You’ll get distracted and move on to other tasks. Put first things first on your agenda.
Chances are, once you take that itty-bitty step, the momentum of doing something positive will ignite your enthusiasm. You may have the entire profile written and posted in no time.
I remember a famous cartoon in which a woman slaps her forehead and the words in the balloon say something like, “Oh, no, I forgot to have children!” I can see how busyness, lethargy, and disorganization can lead to another cartoon: “Oh, no, I forgot to have a love life.” Only it’s not funny.
Now, get to it. Write your profile, post it with a great photo and get on with the fun of discovering who might be out there waiting to meet you.
Excerpted from "The Boomer's Guide to Online Dating" by Judsen Culbreth (c) 2005 by Judsen Culbreth. Excerpted by permission of Rodale, Inc.
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Judsen Culbreth author of "The Boomer's Guide to Online Dating" has more than 30 years of experience in magazines and TV journalism, serving as editor-in-chief of Working Mother, executive director of Redbook, and the first work/family contributing editor on the Today show. With her husband, she divides her time between Montclair, N.J., and Fairhope, Ala. She is online at judsenculbreth.com.
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