“Only the Lonely.” By Roy Orbison. Who knows why, since I haven’t thought about that particular song in years. However, that’s the song that creeped into my brain this morning after waking. Was it the dream I had last night about my sweetheart who died nearly eight years ago? Maybe? But probably it has more to do with being confined in quarantineland with only a vibrator and romance novels. Something has gotta give.
Having a friend/partner/lover at this time in my life is challenging in that I’m much pickier than I was in my youth. Time, like the next 15-20 years, is extremely precious -It would be a waste we’re “we” to hook up and go “oops”. Granted I’ve been a serial monogamist but that was then…and time marches,
I’ve been pondering whether I should take a crack at social media dating like match.com again, since that was how I met wonderful “him” those many years ago. Like wowsers, now I can’t even go to a meetup to meet up with someone who might tickle my fancy or some other part of my anatomy because virtually every event has been cancelled except for virtual events. What’s a vivacious woman (at any age) to do?
I know I’ve got some good years left in my 1950’s model human self, so why the hell not take a whirl?! Hmmm. Admittedly I have been surfing, trolling, throwing my net out into the sea since I heard there were plenty o’ fish there, alas, the waters have not only been over fished but the prospects of catching anyone, please not so long in the tooth or missing a few scales, are slim to none.
And the photos are hysterically awful, often resembling those tips on what not to do when using one’s phone camera. And what’s with photos of guys holding fish anyway? The fish are not only much more appealing than the holder but in better overall physical shape…and the fish are dead! Then there’s the pictures of men with their hot cars or motorcycles -like that’s a turn on for them (cause it ain’t happening here) or are they subliminally telling us they are compensating for what ain’t able to get up down you know where? Oy.
I’m really not changing the subject here, but…Did I mention I’ve been riding a stationary bike? Of course I’m going nowhere, but I’m doing it very fast, plus concurrently while I pedal I scroll through the potential men on the sites, being careful to swipe left, but not actually turn left, or I might crash onto the stone patio upon where the bike resides. For were I to injure myself I’d be still be avoiding urgent care, and I might be screwed, but not in a good way.
Why am I not out pedaling through the much safer neighborhood bike lanes since traffic is lighter, you ask? Because I’m in Texas and it is so fucking hot here that the only time I might consider cycling I’d have to dodge coyotes at 3 am when it’s cool enough to ride…and besides it’s a pain to wear a mask when riding a bike. Henceforth, Creative Princess that I am prefers cruising my imaginary highway while keeping an eye out for love.
Okay. I have had a few lame ass messages from lonely old men, which got me asking myself, yes I’m older but am I really that lonely? Because I refuse to meet someone who cannot convey enough real interest other than, “hello pretty lady”, appears to have led a very hard life, and is a member of the NRA. It is Texas but sheesh!
I’ve gotta face it…The pickins are Vera Vera slim. I actually noticed one guy who appeared to still have light in his eyes, (imagine that) whose self description was relatively coherent and didn’t smoke or drink, so I sent what I thought was a well written and clever note, claiming we oughta meet for curbside coffee or? But I got no reply.
Undaunted, during my exercise I’ve kept perusing and hoping for someone interesting even though I may be looking in the wrong place or age group. Maybe someone younger… 55ish, but those men are still hunting for possible baby mamas or women who imagine themselves with daddy. Or progressive singles or eco warriors with hard ons ???
I haven’t given up so I’ll keep pedaling while scrolling. Who knows what the next song in my head will be. Maybe “Born to be Wild”?
tune in.
Janet Bernson 