At the age of 60, I found myself with four connected life events that were very high on the standard stress scale. My marriage split up, I sold a home that I was quite taken up with, left a job that was so suitable and abandoned a town and friends which I was quite comfortable with. After recovering from the shock of so many traumatic changes bunched together, it took a few months to acclimatize myself to Westmeath (my home town) again and decide what I should ponder first.
Unless I intended to be single for the rest of my life I had to somehow seek prospects to socialize with the opposite sex. That wasn’t as easy as it seems as my few remaining friends from the past appeared happily married and the new ones I met, likewise. There were singles of course but, I thought it best to meet someone sparkling new in order to enjoy all the mysterious nuances of falling in love all over again.
So many times when I had walked my dog in the park I was always enamoured at the number of chatty woman who were so eager to pet “Thumper” and how easy it was to strike up a conversation with them. I don’t have a dog now and I’m sure walking alone in the park would attract attention from an authority figure.
To start my quest, I browsed the supermarkets around Pembroke, even Renfrew and Arnprior on occasion. The fruit and vegetable sections provided the most encounters, possibly because the shape of many of the items prompted thoughts of sexuality. Some conversations became flirtatious, or so I thought, but when going for a coffee was the resolve, their interest waned. I tried to dress more appropriately, then inappropriately, but nothing got me any closer to first base. Somewhat desperate now, I moved into main stream of the malls, the pet store and bookstore in particular, where I had some familiarity with cats and novels.
I even made an effort to check out a few singles dances, but that venue presented two additional problems. First, everyone seemed far more interested in dancing than romancing. Second, I’d look like a fool if on the floor with ‘Dancing with the Stars’ hopefuls and a fool if I just looked on. So, feeling like a fool anyway, I chose a partner to dance with but couldn’t keep up with her steps and was hastily left stranded on the floor, like a complete fool.
All I secretly wished for was a fairy-tale relationship like ‘Harry and Meghan’, understanding that I would likely be the Meghan profile. Certainly not like the pair in the movie ‘Harry and Sally’ – too much drama for someone my age!
There was a singles club in Gatineau that had great reviews from a couple of the guys. They said, “It’s not really a meat market but your odds of hitting on a woman and taking her home for the night is almost a sure thing.” Still leery, I did go to one event. However, upon entering the dingy, smoke-filled hall, it seemed that everyone there sized me up. I guess the upshot wasn’t that positive, as I awkwardly stood there for minutes and felt even more awkward when I realized that my playbook for ‘pick-up phrases’ was as empty as a room cleared to be painted. Finally, a woman, appearing interested and showing much cleavage, but no ‘Stormy Daniels’, captured my attention. As she approached, I noticed she was vigorously chewing bubble-gum and popping it frequently, while I also heard her false teeth click together in tandem. Only able to focus on that mouth in perpetual motion, mouth either opened or closed, I couldn’t picture making out with her. I left hurriedly.
Nearly everyone had plenty of advice. Most suggested a blind date, but I declined as I had one in my previous life, married her and so my current predicament! Others said, “Consider yourself lucky and don’t tie yourself down again.” One, though, had an idea that worked for him. “Pay for sex. Afterwards you feel much better and don’t have worry about anything – except the next one you will need.” Too many unpredictable outcomes for me!
As the months rolled by, I began to explore alternative means, all being well, to take the edge off my loneliness without frustration and downright rejections. More and more information was forthcoming on the titillating issue of sex and robots. Then an announcement — availability of mechanical dolls, in the near future, that could press all the right buttons for a lonely man and if not satisfied with the robot’s performance, it can be returned for a full refund. After going this long without satisfaction, I’ll bide my time for a robot, maybe lucky enough to get a Stormy Daniels brand.
