Where are all the match-makers when you need them?
July 6, 2011 § 18 Comments
Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends but precious little help they are in match-making me with someone. All the men they know are married or SFAR (Single For A Reason) or in their dotage.
Twice in the last month I have been put next to men who if they weren’t sixty, I swear to God they were in their seventies. With a view to romance. Thanks a bunch. One was deaf in one ear; the other had brown, protruding spots all over his face and hands. I don’t want a man who can’t get it up and whose colostomy bag I am going to be having to change in five years’ time.
I was with my husband for nearly twenty years and only had eyes for him. So when I left him three years ago, my fancying mechanism was still in aspic. Men twenty years younger. But that was sick. I don’t actually fancy twenty-six year olds but nor do I fancy 76 year olds, and at the rate men can get younger women, 76 is my rough reality. It is one thing growing old with someone, quite another to hook up with a man who has grown old with someone else. You’ve missed the good bits and are minus the history.
Is it too much to hope for a candidate within five years of myself?
My friends say, have I thought of internet dating?
Have I thought of internet dating?
Of course I bloody have. And dismissed it.
I want to meet preferably a friend of a friend.
Internet dating is not my natural habitat. I am not of the generation… Though I shall, of course, have to get over that.
It’s just in my mind a singular kind of desolation, getting all made-up and ready to go out on a date with someone you’ve never met and spotting him at the bar and knowing within that first millisecond, just glimpsing, that it’s wrong.
I am not quite that desperate just yet. At total rock bottom. Though I soon will be.
I have heard of a million internet marriages that are happily ever after, and I do know that the fault lies within my own prejudiced self. More fool me, I am sure.
Just give me a bit more time.