SWF: Dating After 50

If a woman cries in cyberspace and no one is there to hear her, does she make a sound?

by Linda • More.com Member { View Profile }

I am fifty-four years old – and live in a first ring suburb of Minneapolis, Minnesota. I was born on August 29th, which makes me a Virgo… and I fit the astrological profile so well that I am often mistaken for the virgin herself: Hard-working, modest, critical, pragmatic, meticulous, conservative. Virgos are the ultimate perfectionists. I have a love/hate relationship with myelf… and I am often the loser.

I am a single gal, as they say. There is a perfectly good explanation for my marital status: I am a Virgo, and a loser. Hey, come on, I’m not intending this to be a poor me pity party. I’m  just trying to colorfully express in words who I am, and why.

I am 5 feet tall, weigh 22 pounds — give or take 100. My hair is a grayish brown (taupe?), and my eyes are my best feature, which isn’t saying much since my left eye lid is beginning to droop. I describe my figure as curvey, mostly because the cellulite has landed nicely in two places: on my butt and my boobs. And, nicely might not be the right descriptive.

I have a high emotional intelligence, but am an idiot with high emotion when it comes to men. If the goal is to find the worst ones, then I’m a genius. I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve and men mistake that for being too dramatic. If I was really dramatic, I would select better leading men. Nonetheless, drama drives insecure, self-centered, egotistical men back into their man caves, and after I attempt to follow them into that cave an obsessive number of times, I give up — it’s certainly not for lack of trying that I am single.

I do have a wonderful "man-panion" (copyright pending). He is 26 years old, wears dorky glasses and owns a very predictable collection of sweaters. Let’s just call him sweaterjon. Sweaterjon is an artist, and I’m a writer… yes, we’ll describe it as that for now. Oh, and his father and I are friends.

Anyway, sweaterjon and I love to go to Wednesday matinees at the Landmark theater. Sweaterjon is too young to remember the movie "Harold and Maude," but I must confess I feel a bit like Maude when we’re on our little outings. For those readers also too young to know, the cult favorite from 1972 was a very dark comedy about the unlikely romance between a 19 year old and a 79 year old widow named Maude. I first saw the movie when a senior in high school. Several friends and I didn’t have dates to the prom (some things never change), and a younger classman (see?) named Ron Shelton escorted us to the only theater in nearby Waconia to see what four innocent teens found quite racy. (I rented it on Netflix a year or so ago, to see if it was really how I remembered from 36 years earlier. It was.)

After a loving, romantic relationship in my early 30’s, I’ve pretty much been solo. At 38, I had a brief encounter with a man 8 years my junior… and it was very sexual — and destined to fail, considering he was Jewish and his parents had a life plan for him. He isn’t all that cute anymore, and his wife has a huge ass. They have three kids.

Following that, I waited 15 years before I met and loved username AS1. I don’t want to say it was a huge mistake, because it did get me back in the "game," but AS1 is 38 to my 54, and he is exactly as I was at his age. AS1 has a very special man cave to hide in. His is in cyberspace so he doesn’t have to deal with real women. He can play with a assumed username, and that suits him just fine. Show any emotion, and AS1 is gone. But wait, then he comes back to play a little bit more, and then BAM - gone again — in retrospect, his life is a video game.

AS1 and I met about 5 years ago, and at some point it became clear that one day we would be lovers. He was the lone wolf that chased me into my cave — one suitable to serve as a nuclear bomb shelter — with the intensity of his prowess. I managed to avoid his sex appeal for 4 years before this year, when I finally gave in. That’s when I first learned I was too dramatic to be with a man the caliber of AS1. The truth, we shared extraordinary intimacy, and I miss him with an unexplainable force whenever he is gone. Our story is for another time.

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