I am single at 62 years of age. I can assure you that being single at 62 is nobody’s life plan. “Let’s see. I am going to get an education, get married, have a family, and right around retirement age get divorced and be alone.” I have lived over a year now alone and it still seems like I am living someone else’s life. For 61 years I had no Plan B. I have learned that you probably should always have a Plan B.
I have gotten more advice in the last year than in the previous 61 years. The number one suggestion by a mile is to do computer dating at one of the dating websites.
I have an instinctual distrust for anything on social media. I think there are more mistruths and more charlatans on the internet than anywhere else where you can count them. I believe less than 15 percent of anything I read online. And yet many people want me to trust my future to finding a partner on the other end of a keyboard that for all I know is a very hairy old pervert named Burt.
Let’s look at the perils of dating for a guy like me. First of all my standards are pretty high. I think my standards are higher than I can achieve. When you can’t realistically achieve your goals there is an inherent problem in the attempt. Secondly, I don’t have the ammo needed to fight the good fight. The last time I was “on the market” I was marketable. I was young, not a bad looking guy, athletic, and had my whole promising future that lay ahead of me.
Almost 34 years later the only thing athletic about me are my shoes and socks and neither are brand name. The only sports I compete at now are golf and shooting pool. And when I say “compete” what I really mean is still can play. Anyone proficient in either activity can kick my behind in either endeavor.
At 62 your future pretty much lies behind you. My 20-year plan is to be alive!
I try to look at my positives as a potential suitor. I am not ugly. I am only about 10 or 12 pounds overweight. I am a pretty good conversationalist with a fairly intellectual base. I live in a nice house and have a pretty good career. I bathe regularly and use Axe body spray and deodorant on a daily basis.
Come on ladies. Try to control yourself. That’s quite an impressive resume’.
I have recently been visiting a “free” dating internet website that is pretty well known. In fact, the name insinuates they will find you a match. The clever among you will get that clue. The rest are probably in my target audience.
What am I looking for in a match? Do I want someone really smart or is it better to find someone with a simple mind and lower standards than mine? Do I really want to go after a really hot looking woman only to compete against men better looking and much more successful than me? And when I say compete do I mean the way I compete in golf and shooting pool?
Currently my retirement plan is hooking up with that perfect African e-mailer who just inherited $1,000,000,000 American dollars and needs a partner. My perfect woman is a very sexy, successful lady who is really insecure about herself. A perfect first date for me would be one with a really passionate debate on religion and politics. I am to the perfect catch what Donald Trump is to humility. I think the perfect bumper sticker for a single guy would be, “I brake for a nice rear end!” One of the most surprising things I have learned over the last year is how much I have in common with my single, gay female friends.
You really feel good about yourself when you are sitting alone on a Saturday evening and read on the internet about how many marriage proposals Charlie Manson gets in prison.
I did some research for this column. There are 96 million people over the age of 18 who are single in this country. And for every 100 single women there are only 88 single men.
I have also thought if I really want to get involved with someone else at all. At what point does misery become your companion with whom you are comfortable with which to spend your evening. Dating should be like buying a used car; you should always be able to consult with the previous owner. I have always thought that misery loves company but after a period of time you begin to accept the loneliness of being alone as a comfort in itself.
As I have looked through the photo portfolio and read profiles from my “100 percent” matches I wonder if they really know me at all. Some of the ladies are so beautiful that I would be intimidated to meet them. Others look like my grandma. It’s after combing through my matches that I begin to realize just how far away I must be from that athletic young catch that I was 34 years ago.
My favorite description of me by a young female friend of mine is she simply referred to me as, “A beautiful disaster!”
At the present time I have no idea just what my life’s Plan B might be. I am still trying to figure out how Plan A went so wrong. In the meantime Netflix and late night television are my constant companions. Have to go for now. I just got an e-mail with 24 perfect matches for me.