It was girls’ night out. That just means I meet with a dear friend and we go out for “breakfast” after she gets off from her second shift job. We sit, chat, and catch up on all the family things. She always wants to know what I’m writing. So I tell her about my latest hero and heroine. She talks about work. We talk about nail polish, shoes, and clothing. We whine and commiserate. It’s not exactly highbrow conversation, just girl stuff.
Then one night, we had both complained about all the things that were wrong in our lives and how we needed a man. I want a man to fix the leaky sink, the kind of guy who will take my car and put gas in it for me, check the oil, clean the windshield, and take the trash to the curb. I miss having that warm body next to me while I sleep, and a guy to take me to dinner. I got pretty spoiled over the years, and being alone can be lonely.
But at this point in my life, I don’t see too many options when it comes to men. As another friend said, “After age fifty, there are only three major groups of men available. The ones who want something young enough to be their daughter, and the ones who are looking for someone to care for them in their old age. But the worst are the ones no one else wants – beware as there’s a reason for that!”
Yes, it’s rather sad. But I know exactly what she means. Never say never, but I had my Prince Charming, and most women never find that guy. Why would I ever think I’d get that lucky again? And where would I find him? I have no clue. Yes, we’ve all heard the success stories of online dating, and I’ve heard plenty of horror stories. Church for many women is an excellent way to meet a man, except I don’t go to church. Bars? I don’t think so. Clubs? I don’t know of any. And that leaves… nothing. Maybe someday, someone will know somebody, and introduce me. Dream on, right?
There’s another problem with finding someone after a certain age. Houses. I have a house full of furniture and the things that I love. Chances are he’s got a house, too. So who gives up and moves where? Do we sell our homes and pool money for a new one? What if he likes modern? Must I give up my antiques collection? The list goes on. It’s no longer simple as it was when we were young and no one had much of anything.
She turned to me with raised eyebrows and stammered, “B-but you don’t have a pool.”
“I know. I just want the pool boy.”
That’s when we discovered several people were listening to our conversation. The tittering spread like syrup on pancakes as I pushed the heavy door opened that led to the outside. We both fell into a round of giggles as the sounds of hearty laughter followed us out the door.
My friend smacked me on the arm. “You are so bad!”
“I know. Think I could find a pool boy with a little gray running through his hair?”
I’m meeting my friend this weekend. I wonder if that restaurant will let us in?