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Gray Matter
“My Kids Want Me to Date Online. “What Do You Think?”
Q.
I’m a widow who has read about troubles that come to teens who date online, but now my adult children encourage me to just: ‘Go for it!’
A.
You’ve lived through more wars than Julius Caesar; you’ve survived the depression, the rise and fall of Communism; you’ve gone from the rumble seat to the launching pad and the iPod, and today you’re preparing to match wits with Computer World.
My presumption is you’re up for the challenge, and as a onetime widower (I remarried), I know something about loneliness. Additionally, for too long grief was the unwelcome visitor inside my household.
To help us both wrestle with your conundrum, permit me to introduce a reader, and friend, who has struggled, intellectually speaking, with the very matter you present. Please call her Audrey, and know she is almost 70.
Her first report, in a series of three, begins: “I’ve been on this one site (with photograph) three months. I only get emails from young men; like ages 35-55. Older gents aren’t interested in old broads.
“Maybe the young men—younger than some of my adult kids—think I’m rich and will kick the bucket soon, or I’m dying for their young bodies. On both accounts, I reply: ‘Nay, nay.’”
Pal Audrey is no fool, nor is she desperate. An interior designer, she was married nearly 50 years to a husband she remembers as “positive, loving, and strong, yet so gentle in his relationships.” Their life-partnership ended with the husband falling sick to cancer, a malignancy they together fought six years. Thereafter, Audrey, the newly widowed, wrote: “I live today in the loneliest place in the world…There’s a huge hole inside me and I cry. Yes, I cry, even as I dread being in my house, alone…”
Here’s report No. 2 from the computer dating scene: “Both men and women lie about their age. Also, men in the beginning pretend to be interested in your personality. After a couple emails, they admit they’re intent upon being intimate very quickly! A few get openly horny…
“I have only a couple weeks before I cancel, or invest in another three months. Anyway, it’s been an experience, with some good laughs.”
Report No. 3 landed this week as a huge surprise: “Out of the clear blue sky this charming man, named Gregor, has dropped into my world. Greg is my junior by 10 years, yet we have so much in common. He’s a professional broker, as was my late husband. As a result, Greg must travel a lot.
“Nonetheless, he telephones at least once (or twice) a day, and emails me up to four times. He’s European-born (been in the U.S. 30 years) and is divorced, with no children. His sense of humor is matchless, and forgive me, but he seems too perfect. We plan to meet this coming weekend; meantime, I am having fun again. Enjoy the world. I am.”
Clearly, our summer romance is ongoing and necessitates that we hold off judgment, even as we look forward to that next installment. Lastly, the poet teaches that life becomes more precious because it is fleeting, and therefore “late love is existential love.” Seize it; hold it; treasure it.
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Outrageous Associations
