Is There Sex After 60? (Navigating Single Life After 60)

Now you may have noticed that I have pretty much stayed out of the political conversation during this very, heated political atmosphere.  You might think that I am not interested in politics but you would be wrong.  I don’t like to make people angry.  I like to be liked.  I am a people pleaser.  I wish I didn’t care but I do care.  WELL, that might be all over for me at this point because I am going to give you my real opinions on a group of candidates.  I AM GOING TO TELL YOU WHAT I THINK ABOUT THE FASHION STATEMENTS THAT THEY ARE MAKING.  It’s my opinion and only my opinion.  So if you are angry and you want to sue someone then you will have to sue my brain or my upbringing or maybe be my ancestors.  Anyway, who knows where or how opinions are formed?

Just in case you need to know before we go any further into these assessments and in case you are dying to know more about me.  I am an Independent Voter.  I have voted equally for Republicans and Democrats and once or twice for an Independent.

This isn’t going to be in any real order.  Today I am just critiquing the Democratic hopefuls who as of today’s date are still in the running.   I thought that I would start with the B’s Biden, Bloomberg, Booker, and Buttigieg.

Pete, (I call him Pete) well he has a nice short haircut, he looks clean like he just took a shower and sprayed a nice clean lemony after shave lotion on his face and neck.  He is slim and often wears a white dress shirt with a button or two open at the top and long sleeves rolled up.  He wants to give the impression that he went to work wearing a suit and tie but that he was working so hard for you that he took off his jacket and his tie and rolled up his selves to show how serious he is about getting things done.

 Bloomberg has a nice hair cut, short and styled by the best.  He always wears suits and ties and they always look like they come from a good men’s tailor hopefully one from New York City.  He looks fit and trim so he cares how he looks and he always looks like a businessman.

 Cory or Booker as I like to call him.  Booker is tall 6’2” and really nice looking.  He shaves his head to give him that action hero look, however, he looks a little too nice to pull that look off.  Now let me tell you about his clothes.  Out of all of the men or women candidates, he is by far the best dressed.  His suits and ties and shirts are perfect and you know that he spends a good amount of his time picking out the perfect outfit for the perfect event and he is always the best-dressed man in the room.  His suits fit him and he makes sure that they fit perfectly.  Here is an interesting note…. his phone number can be found at the bottom of his website ladies.  If you are interested he is still available.

 Last of the B’s is Biden.   Joe is 77 years old and he is 6 ft. tall and he is very slim and trim.  He wears suits well and he is and looks comfortable in casual clothes.  He is very nice looking but what I notice about him is how straight this man stands.  The next time you see him on TV notice his posture.  It is nearly perfect.  I am not going to say one word about their political views … that’s not my job.  I am only giving you a sense of their style that’s all.  I will say this I would be more than happy to be seated next to any of these men at a dinner party.  I don’t care what political side you are on these guys would be great dinner partners.  Right?

Castro, nice clothes, very trim, very clean looking but he has bad hair.  He is very short and it affects how people see him especially when standing next to a tall man or woman.  Not fair at all, but true.  He doesn’t give a strong impression.  Now Bloomberg is small but he gives a stronger impression.  I don’t make the rules I just report them how I see them.  (LOL)  Also, I don’t want to be seated next to him at a dinner party.  I think that I would have to do all of the talking.

On to Sanders and Steyer.   Bernie, Bernie, Bernie, what can I say about Bernie’s style?   The best you can say about him is that he always looks sloppy and disheveled but always, always comfortable.  This is a guy who goes in his closet in the morning and picks out the most comfortable outfit that doesn’t have spots on it from last night’s dinner reception.  He looks as if he would rather be tortured or pretend to be having another heart attack than to be forced to put on a tux and put on a pair of patent leather shoes.  One problem with Bernie just might be his shoes.  He always looks a bit grumpy.  It might be his shoes.  Maybe his shoes don’t fit and that might make that grimace that you see on his face especially when you ask him a question that he doesn’t want to answer.  No, I do not want to be seated next to Bernie at a dinner party he might get mad at me or frown if I had a second glass of wine.

Tom Steyer.  He is nice looking and dresses well.  He has a nice haircut and I think he is rather tall and good-looking.   He dresses appropriately for each occasion.  I am sure that he would make pleasant conversation as a dinner partner.  He is a billionaire and a philanthropist.  I would do my best to see if he would consider helping a struggling writer with a very small business that needs a new SUV.  Please pass the Dom Perignon, Tom.

Okay now on to the ladies.

Tulsi Gabbard, tall, pretty, nice shiny black hair.  I love her white pantsuits.  She looks, strong, tough, no-nonsense, and fast on her feet, yet feminine.  She looks like she would be comfortable in a ball gown or a jogging suit or a bathing suit.  She looks smart and she looks like she isn’t afraid to stand up for her opinions.

Amy Klobuchar, mostly wears suits.  Suits with skirts and sometimes with trousers.  Nothing too fancy but she always fits in.   Nice looking suits.  She wears some jewelry and she wears some makeup a little not too much. She has a nice easy but attractive hairstyle.  She looks like a teacher or the principal of your high school.  Amy has a twinkle in her eye and a nice smile.

Elizabeth Warren.  She is the reason I decided to tackle the style of our Democratic Candidates.  Liz, Liz, Liz.  What can I say about your style???   ONE THING, THAT IT, HASN’T CHANGED IN MANY, MANY, MANY YEARS???  I HAVE ONLY SEEN HER IN her black stretch pants and her black tank top.  On top of her tank top, she wears either a bright colored sweater or a jacket.  That is it.  That is all she ever, ever, ever, wears.  Her hair doesn’t have a style and she doesn’t wear makeup.  I don’t believe I have ever seen her with any jewelry on any part of her body.  Elizabeth if you want to be President of the United States you are going to have to wear another outfit someday or at the very least at your swearing-in ceremony.  Then please fix your hair and wear a touch of makeup.  One thing I will say about Elizabeth is that she is slim and trim and she might have the best figure out of all of the men and women.  I would really like her height and her figure.  Liz, you must workout because you have a great figure. By the way, I am pretty sure all of these ladies would be great dinner partners.

Stay tuned for my views on the Republicans.  I have something to say about some of their wives too.  It’s fair because there are fewer of them running so I might have to add their wives and maybe a Republican Journalist or two to make it even.   You might be surprised because I really like the first and second ladies of our country.  I am nothing if I am not fair.  Right?

Until Next Week… 

Do you ever feel like you are going around in circles?  Have you seen hamsters in pet stores running on those metal wheels?  They keep running faster and faster and never get anywhere.   There is a quote; I am not sure who said it, maybe Einstein?  I am paraphrasing here, “Stupidity is when you do the same thing over and over in the same way and expecting a different outcome.”  Taking a look at my life I can see this,  as my life so far.  Am I that stupid hamster, running like crazy on that darn wheel as fast as my legs will carry me, spinning that squeaky wheel around and around and not getting anywhere?  Sometimes I do get tired and I get off of that damn wheel and I look around and there I am, right where I started still in that same old hamster cage with the leaky water bottle and sawdust in a pile on the floor.

There have been times in my life where I have made really bold changes or bold moves to create change in my life.   Lost weight, worked out, changed my hairstyle and color, bought new clothes moved to a new city, new apartment tossed out everything old and stared with everything new.  Somehow I end up in the same place, with the same problems and the same life and mostly with the same people.  Are we stuck?  Is our future set up just how it is supposed to be when we are born?  Can we change anything or are we walking on a road and that road takes us to the same place no matter which fork in the road we take?  I’m starting to think that this might be the case.

Theologians have been pondering this question probably since the beginnings of human reason.  Can we change our future or is it all just mapped out for us and no matter what changes we make or how far away we may roam perhaps we end up in the same place doing what we were programmed to do since birth.  This is an uncomfortable thought but as far as my life is concerned it seems like I might be fighting and changing and pushing but no matter what I do or how I change or try to fix my life I end up exactly where the mysterious God or gods and goddesses have decided to place me.

Do we have free will?   I don’t really know?   When I was in high school I had no idea if I would be going to college or not.  I only decided to apply for college in my senior year a few months before graduation, because my high school counselor sat me down across from her in her small, dusty, dingy, dark, office and told me that I shouldn’t even try to get into college.  She said I would never be accepted into any college due to my lackluster grades.  I guess I had a different perspective on her view.  The same day she told me to forget going to college I decided to go to the school library (this was before computers, for my readers who are under 45 years old) and search for colleges that I might be mutually beneficial to the college and to me as well.   I applied to about eight colleges and universities.   I applied to a few of the best universities in the country.  I was accepted to all of the schools with two exceptions.  Northwestern University and SMU would accept me if I attended summer school in advance of the fall semester.  One University in the Midwest offered me a full scholarship.  That is the school I decided to attend.  I attended this college for two years and then I transferred to an International College in Paris, France.  Was this all because of my actions or was this preordained?

As a very small child, I was fascinated by ocean travel.  I cut out pictures of ships.  I ordered pamphlets on ocean travel as soon as I could print.  When I was accepted to my International College in Paris they offered a very, very, reasonable price to travel across the ocean on the SS France.  I crossed the ocean on the ship of my dreams.  Was it meant to be?

Now here is the interesting part of this scenario.  The summer before I had any idea of going to school in Europe my good friend asked me to accompany her to a metaphysical convention.   During this convention, a man walked up to me and said, “You will be going to a school in France in the next year and the name of the school will start with the letter S.”  This happened.  I decided to escape to a college in France due to a broken heart and the name of the school began with the letter S.  Was it meant to be?

When I was about nineteen.  My sister and some friends of ours played with the Ouija broad.  I guess we asked it if we would get married or not and to whom that might be.  It said I would marry a man who was living in a foreign land and it said that his initials were TB.  When I was growing up TB stood for Tuberculosis.  I think that is why I remembered the initials TB.   My “Was-band” is French and those are his initials.  When I met my husband we talked for a while and he left me abruptly, not long after we spoke.  I remembered being surprised because I had a strange feeling that I was going to know him for a long time.  Well, he returned after about 30 minutes and a year later we were engaged.   So far we have known each other for 39 years. Was it inevitable?  Who knows???

I always thought that I was going to have two boys.  I bought a painting in my 20’s of two boys playing in the rain.   As a child in art school, I did two clay sculptures of two boys with the age difference of my own children.  I always wished to have several children but I miscarried several times.  When I was a few months pregnant with each of my sons, the obstetrician asked me if I wanted to know the gender of my child, both times I told him.  I said, “It’s a boy.”  Both times the doctor asked me how I knew and he asked me who had told me?  I said, “I just know!  I’ve always known that I was going to have two boys.”  Was this meant to be?

Last January I had a strange premonition.  I was extra careful as I drove my car with the worry that someone would hit me.  I don’t know why I felt so worried?  I loved my car and kept it in perfect condition.  One day I actually gave it a pat because my car had seen me through so many years and I said out loud, “Thank you, you have been a good car.”  The very next day I was driving straight through a wide, busy, boulevard and the light was green.  The light turned to yellow, as I was halfway through the street.  A large black Ford Truck turning left hit my Jeep at full speed running the light.   The truck totaled my Jeep.  I broke my foot and smashed my knee and was bruised everywhere but the Jeep saved my life. I remembered thinking directly after I was hit, that I was relieved that the crash that I had predicted, was over.  It had happened and thank heavens I was still alive. Was this preordained?  Who knows?

Now, a little more than two years ago I was supposed to move to the big city in my new apartment all by myself.  I was going to continue with my easy job as the owner of a small seasonal business and enjoy my life, really enjoying, (so to speak) the “Life of Riley”.  My ex said that he would pay my rent, plus some, my kids were grown and the pets preferred living with my “was-band”.  I was free.  In a few months, everything changed.  My ex through no fault of his own couldn’t pay me anymore and my oldest son and my ex and the three pets all moved in with me.  I had to pay for everyone.  So now as a senior citizen, I am paying for three people and three pets.  I have a business and am getting a full-time job and writing this blog.  Was this meant to be?  My guess is that my easy, “Life of Riley” wasn’t in my future.  Could I have changed anything?   Frankly, I doubt it.

The only thing I am sure about these days is how I handle what might be in front of me.  Maybe our lives happen to us.  Maybe we can’t change the future.  It might be set and fixed for us.   The only thing I know is that I will keep going and that I will keep trying and I will keep smiling no matter what life has in store for me.  I’m pretty sure of that!  Was I born with this personality or was it acquired?  Who knows???

Until Next Week…

Have you noticed lately that people are going slightly crazy?  I mean they are losing their minds about stupid little things.  For instance, let’s take the issue of men and women’s bathrooms.  How about if you have a men’s special part (you know the one I mean, it looks like a kind of faucet and it sticks out in front of them below the waist, that thing.) you go to a men’s bathroom, if you don’t have that thing, you go to a woman’s bathroom.  If you aren’t sure what you are, let’s have a bathroom (and frankly I have seen this) where there is a picture of a man and a woman on the door and you visit that bathroom.  Everyone is happy, right?   It makes sense to me.

Are we sick of politics yet?  NO? Well then, let’s just tiptoe into the conversation, but just for a minute or two. How about if someone has voted for someone you don’t like or with whom you disagree, how about you don’t kick, hit, or spit, or threaten, the person because of their choice?  Of course, this is just a suggestion.  If they are holding a sign and you don’t agree with this sign.  Just move on.  Maybe, don’t wish anyone dead?  This is also, a good idea.  People can change their minds.  I certainly have in the past and the present.  A good idea is to consider stating facts clearly and simply.  Sometimes this can work.  At the very least, it makes you aware of a different point of view.  There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?  I might be different than some people on television, but I see lots of good important views on all sides of every normal political discussion.  Yes, indeed, on BOTH SIDES.

 There is a new movement in the last few years.  It is correct and justified in many, many, many, instances, however, like everything these days, it might be going way too far for me.   Recently, some women, and I guess some men too, have objected to the winter song, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” This song was written by, Frank Loesser in 1944.  BTW, this song won an academy award.  I just thought I would mention that fact.   It was considered to be a pretty good song in its day.  I will make a full disclosure, I love this song.  The song is about a man and a woman.  It is cold and snowy outside.   Inside the man and woman,  possibly had dinner and drinks and they are sitting close together on a couch (no doubt) in front of a cozy fire.  The man wants the woman to stay in front of this fire with him.  Could be he is interested in this woman?  (Yeah, think so?)  The woman thinks that she should leave, as any proper woman in the 1940’s would think after dinner and a drink or two.    He tries to coax her to stay and frankly she would like to stay.  Okay, he probably would like her to stay because, “OH NO NOT THAT?” he probably wants to have sex with her, and GUESS WHAT? She actually might want the same thing?  HOW SHOCKING AND HOW TERRIBLE IS THAT?  You mean to tell me that men and women might have, at one time, in the far distant past, actually wanted to have sex?  You mean to tell me that men tried to get a woman in bed, and occasionally they succeeded?  Women actually might have wanted the same thing?  Did someone have to be talked into it?  Did people really flirt with each other when they went to dinner, had drinks and might have, just might have, decided, (good or bad) to have sex?

Listen, I get it.  No one should be forced into anything.  NO, means NO!    I, 100% agree.  Don’t yell at me after you are finished reading this post.  Men have talked women into having sex.  It happens.   I blush.  It has happened to me.  Here is a surprise for you men too. There are times when women pretend that it was all the man’s idea.   Sometimes it is the woman’s idea too.

  I am a flirt.  I readily admit that fact.  I am not insulted if a man flirts with me.  I like it.  I am pretty sure I will always like flirting.  Here are the rules.  If someone flirts and you don’t like it, tell her or him.  If it is at work you have to be careful.   One shouldn’t be offered a job or not offered a job because of sex or dating, or no sex and no dating.   I repeat, NO, IS NO!   If you say, maybe, than maybe, probably means you can still coax the person, and then, what will be will be.  I don’t think that is too difficult to figure out?

 Now, if you are like me and over 65 and really, if anyone wants to flirt at any time, anywhere, well, just sit back and enjoy it.  Keep that fire going and pour me another glass of Champagne.  I’m not going home just yet.

Until Next Week…

Let’s begin at the very beginning of my frustration, it’s called, the grocery store.  First, let me just say that grocery stores of my youth were nice little neighborhood stores where everyone knew you and your family.   If I went to the store, half of the time people would ask if my sister was going to cheer at the game on Saturday or the butcher would tell me that he ordered the goose for my mother for our usual Christmas dinner.  My mother would often order our food over the phone and the groceries would be dropped off at the back door.  My mother didn’t have to tell anyone what brand she wanted, the grocer knew and placed it in the order.  (I know, we do have Amazon now in our city, and you can order your groceries and they drop them off at your door, but it’s not as personal, it’s just not the same.)

When I shop at my local grocery store it is always packed with people, it doesn’t matter what time I arrive, morning, noon, or night, it is always crowded with pushy, unhappy, people.  It is almost impossible to find parking. I live in a place where it often snows 8 or 9 months of the year.  This means that there is ice and snow and dirty slush to be waded through from your car to the entrance of the megastore most of the year.  While I’m on the subject don’t you hate the people that leave their shopping carts in your parking spot!!  I hate these people.

Recently, my local store has made the aisles narrower, and the shelves higher.  So when the lady ahead of you stands in front of the pickle section for ten minutes deciding if she wants spears or circles or sweet or garlic, you are standing behind her and it is impossible for you to reach around her and her husband to grab your Zesty Kosher dills!!  (No, I’m not Kosher, but they are really good pickles)

Did I mention the height of the shelves??  Not every one of us is over 6 feet tall.  I wear flats because the grocery store is miles long, and I have to wear comfortable shoes for the two mile hike. I like to make 3-bean salad.  You need yellow wax beans to make a good 3-bean salad.  The yellow wax beans are on the top shelf, 7 or 8 feet above the ground.  I am 5’2 ½” tall and I don’t have long arms.  (I always have to roll my sleeves when buying a long sleeve shirts or sweaters.  BTW this makes me mad too)  Since, I am not going to climb up shelves to reach the can of my yellow wax beans, therefore, I stand in the aisle with a group of unhappy people waited for me to move my ass.   I wait until a tall person comes along.  I smile a sweet, helpless, smile and beg some hopefully nice person if they would be kind enough to hand me a can of yellow wax beans.  Young people often give me a funny look that says,  “Why would anyone want to buy yellow wax beans?”   Listen, if you like bean salad, I make a really great bean salad.  Just saying …

Now, let’s discuss something that really drives me crazy.  HAS ANYONE NOTICED HOW NORMAL SIZED ITEMS HAVE GROWN SMALLER IN THE LAST FEW YEARS?  Do they think we don’t notice???   We aren’t all dumb blonds!  Full disclosure* I am blond but I do have two college degrees for heavens sake!

 A message to the Campbell soup company, Do you think that we haven’t noticed that one can of soup in the 1960’s used to feed a family of four.   Now one can of soup makes one small bowl or two small tea cups of soup.   Hey, Stouffer’s Frozen Food, My mother often bought your Spinach Soufflé for a side dish for a family of four, accompanying our meatloaf and baked potatoes.  Now it might be a side dish for one or a side dish for two infants.  Hey, Lay’s, your potato chips used to come in a big bag and the bag was full.  Now the large family size is in a small bag and it is half-full.  Hey, Nabisco, my 31-year-old son loves the cheese crackers you make.  He loved them as a child.  I recently bought him a box of his favorite cheese crackers.  Today they came in a box that was a little larger than his right hand and when he opened the same bag that was nestled inside of the small box, the bag was half-full.  The cheese crackers are now the size of the nail on my index finger.  (I might mention that I have small hands as well as being short in stature.)

These companies are not alone.  This is a trick that all products are guilty of pushing on what they think of as the ”ignorant public”.  Now, guys, on your side of things, let me say that in most cases the quality of your products has stayed the same.  Your food is really good and the quality has occasionally improved, however, while I am still angry,  the other thing that I have noticed,  Hey, Lay’s, your chips are much thinner.  Not as good or as crunchy as they used to be … this goes for your Doritos too.  Sorry you might be owned by Frito-Lay.  Is that the same company?  I can’t keep track.  At any rate, the chips are thinner and WE HAVE NOTICED THIS FACT.  One more thing, pasta companies, we have noticed you aren’t putting as much pasta in your boxes and the boxes are smaller.  The price is still pretty good but it has gone up along with all of the above products.

Please grocery stores, hire people to help me pack my groceries.  I am terrible at packing my own grocery items.  I smash my bread when packing my own groceries, and my ice cream melts onto my steaks and my grapes are crushed under my canned goods.  I am nervous to take too long while packing my own groceries.  So please have that high school boy help me and he can help me put them in my car too.  (Ever try to lift a box of cat litter into your trunk?  Not too mention my large wine bottles.)   Oh, I like plastic bags too. I know, I know, it isn’t good for our ecology.  I have an excuse.  I use them to clean the cat’s littler box, everyday.  I use them to pack my son’s lunch.  I reuse them and I recycle the bags I don’t use.  I promise!!!

Okay, now after I have said all that.  We are really lucky to live in a country that is chock-full of every kind of food and fruit and vegetable and meat and fish product that you can imagine.  We do have really good food items as well as cleaning items and drug store items and school supplies.  We are so lucky to have tons of products from which to choose, in our mega-stores.  I am grateful and frankly I don’t know how they do it and keep everything really pretty clean and the shelves stocked full.

I let go of most of my anger, by writing this post.  I feel better.  Just don’t try to sneak into my parking space when I am pulling in and put your damn cart back where it belongs, or I’ll be mad as Hell!!!

Until Next Week… 

When I was about 54 or 55, I was sitting at a table with about four of my best friends.  At the time, we were having our monthly dinner party in one of our local restaurants.   As ladies will do, after talking about our basic issues concerning, work, our family, the latest news, the conversation drifted off to relationships.  Three out of four of us were essentially single.  One of the four of us was in a long-time, contented, relationship, with her partner of many years.  One of my friends has been single her whole life, one was divorced and then there is me… I am the one in limbo.  I was married at 30 and after a whole lot of ups and downs the marriage was faltering after 20 years and died a pretty miserable death a little more than two months after our 24^th anniversary.

I acquired a full-time job, within two weeks after my husband left me for greener pastures.  I asked him to leave, for many good reasons that I won’t go into now, due to lack of time and frankly; I just don’t care anymore.  The reasons aren’t really important.  I have let the anger and sadness go.  I am no longer angry or upset.  It is over.   It is so, so, so, great, not to hold onto anger or disappointment or hurt.  I let it all go and so I’m free to be worried or upset or hurt by other things.   I am telling you this so that you may see how far I have come in the last several years.  Sure, I am a “Zen-like” person, but I haven’t changed… now I am hysterical about a whole new group of other things.

 Am I still hurt by men?  DUH???  Sure, hey, I am an enlightened person but not THAT enlightened.  In the last month my feelings were hurt and believe me he wasn’t worth it … the only difference is that after 60, everything … even death … (well, not all death, but some people’s, death, like people that you never really liked, their death, or, like the guy that hurt you… his death) is a breeze!   See how enlightened I am???  Almost everything is easier to get over after 60.  Did I mention, lemon cake, or pasta, or lots of wine, or one to three, martinis before dinner???  NO?  Well, any of those things also help a lot to get you to that enlightened Zen-like place as well.

 Some people believe in jogging or taking long walks or yoga classes, to feel better.  Okay, if you want to be popular with the “In Crowd” in Hollywood.  I can pretend to be like them too.  I wear my yoga outfit to pick up my mail in the lobby of my building with my hair in a ponytail.  I look tired … like I just finished Pilates, with my personal instructor.  I can fool the best of them.  If someone comes for a visit to my apartment, I make sure to dust my stationary bike, first, then, I wipe my forehead as my guest enters my apartment and I make sure to leave my Nike, (Air Force 1 Shadow Shoes) right next to the front door.  I dirty the shoes just in case someone notices that they haven’t been worn.

Well, back to my dinner with my friends (in case you forgot; that was where I left off, after the first paragraph in this post) … At this very dinner party with my girlfriends, I made an announcement.  Everyone was talking about their boyfriend problems and their possible dates and I was nodding my head as I usually do when I listen to my friend’s conversations.  When I blurted out, “I want to have sex before I die!!! “   This stopped the conversation at once, as one might imagine.  Everyone stared at me and started to talk at once.  I think it is because I am so very motherly looking and acting.  People don’t think of me as a sexual person.  It’s there.  It is hidden behind a very sickeningly, not sexy, but sort of sweet, older, face.  Hardly anyone suspects a real sexual person might be trying to escape.

 I used to live in what was a famous but very small town. 

Somehow the word got out about my conversation with my friends.  Who would have thought??  All of a sudden, men, some young men, some younger brothers, of young men, lots of married men, seemed to come out of the woodwork.  Men would arrive at my house to lend a hand.  Men were offering to “tote that barge and lift that bale” for me, all out of the blue.   It is amazing what men will do for you just in case they might have an opportunity to have a quickie.  Did I mention married men?  I was very attractive to married men.  Were any one of these men interested in anything except a quick affair? NO!  One man even told me that he was only interested in one time.  He wanted me one time and that was it.

The whole experience was amusing to me.  I was totally unaware that I even had a hint of sexual appeal.  If you have been in a bad marriage for a while and if you just spend your time working, being a conscientious mother, pet owner, and friend, one forgets that one has anything that anyone would want?   It was amusing and sort of flattering.  I walked with a quicker step.  I know that I have written about this one man’s view of my possible future, before, however, a good line is worth repeating.  One very handsome, young, man looked me in the eye and said, “You know, men will stop looking at you in a few years.”  In other words, I better get right to it, now, while there was still time.  (LOL) I love that line because I had no idea anyone had been looking at me for the last ten years!

 I am still here, yes, older and probably not too much wiser.  I didn’t fall in love.  I wasn’t wild or carefree then and I am not very wild or carefree now.  I just adore all of the courageous, sexually, adventurous, friends, throughout my life, that are not deterred by possible embarrassment or the pain that often might accompany the loss of love. I am totally for sex and fun and excitement and adventure.   Somewhere is there still that sexual tiger clawing to get out?  Is there such a woman inside, after one reaches, plus 60?  Who knows?  I guess where there is life there is hope.

Until Next Week…

Recently I have seen some really wonderful portrait-like photographs of some movie stars of the past.  Men like Rock Hudson, Robert Taylor, Robert Mitchum, Cary Grant, Tyrone Power and more recently Paul Newman, Robert Redford, and Rod Taylor … the list is very impressive, look-wise.  These men were very, very, good looking but if you think about it they also had something else, that you can’t quite put into words.  What is it?  I’m not sure.

There are a lot of beautiful women from the past and some in the near past and yes, some even now, that have incredible beauty.  Some are born with this beauty and some grow into beauties.   If you look at photos of Elizabeth Taylor, Ava Gardner, Marilyn Monroe, Vivien Leigh, Rita Hayworth, Hedy Lamar, Loretta Young, and Grace Kelly, you will see nearly perfect beauty in each woman’s facial features, and yet, there is something more.  Just their beauty alone doesn’t do it.  What is the, it?   What is the “IT FACTOR”?

There is something about these men and woman that shines through the photos.  Something about them that makes them not only beautiful and handsome, but that certain something that makes them interesting.  Take Grace Kelly.  If you just stare at a photo of her when she was a very young woman and modeling in New York, you will see a nice attractive woman with very even features.  If you take her features apart you will see they are all nice and even and yes, pretty, but what is it about her that places her on a separate level?   There are really hundreds of models now and in the past with perfect even features.  Most of them you will admit are nearly perfect looking, however, this week I saw one of these younger models on a television interview show.  As she spoke one was aware of her beauty but there wasn’t any spark there and I soon found her boring and turned off the set.  She was nice and pleasant but something was missing, something that shines through, the outer perfection.  You either have it or you don’t.

Looks can be important.  If you are in the process of hiring someone for a position you would like the person to have a neat, clean, appearance that would fit into your idea of someone who might be able to handle the job in an efficient manner.   I would say in many or most cases one’s outer appearance could get you the job or you might lose the job merely on looks alone.

If you are judged on your looks alone and rejected at one glance this can be devastating at any age.  Once in my late 50’s I went on a blind date.  A friend of mine had set us up and we spoke a few times on the phone.  This was one of the first dates I had after I had been separated from my “was-band.”   We had a few flirty conversations.  He had a nice European accent and he liked my voice.   I guess this was before Face Time.  I was to meet him after work at his apartment and we would be going to dinner.   Thinking back I was so unprepared for dating that I didn’t even change my clothes after work and I wore my unattractive uniform that was required dress at my company.  I’m not sure I even looked in a mirror before our meeting.  I can’t imagine what I must have looked like after waking up at 6:30 A.M. and working all day and even working out during my lunch hour. When I knocked on his door and he opened the door, his face dropped.  I wasn’t prepared for this.  I was older but actually almost everyday a man or two would flirt with me even at the grand old age of 57.  I was surprised by his disappointment. My self-esteem did take a slight hit.   We did go out to dinner and he did ask me back to his apartment.  I didn’t go.

Now, are looks important?   I have dated many different types of men.  My first crush in college was very slim, with even features, glasses, and thinning hair.  I adored him.   Was it his looks, I doubt it.  I fell for him.  He had a twinkle in his big blue eyes.  He was funny, popular and he seemed, caring, deep and he was interested in me, which is very appealing.

After college I fell for an older man.  He had silver hair, also blue eyes, and straight features.  He was a few inches taller and maybe slightly over weight.  He also appreciated my opinion.

My heartbreaker was tall, handsome, yep, also sparkling blue eyes.  What I found irresistible was his sincerity; his humor and his interest in everything.  He was always learning.

My “was-band” is only about 5’ 8” and he has brown eyes and a long, strong nose.  He is slim but not skinny.   He actually chased me and he chased me very persistently.  I knew that I would always like his looks and that I would never find his looks boring.  I never did.  I still find him attractive.

There have been men in my life that I liked and was attracted to, at, ”Hello”.   Were they handsome?  Some were traditionally handsome, some weren’t.  One thing they all had in common.  They were all smart, clever, they were interested in life and each person had a spark and a twinkle behind their eyes, as if they knew something exciting was right around the corner.

Of course, we know in our hearts what this  extra “thing” really is, do we not?   The term we humans have put into our language is called “soul”.   It’s that certain something that doesn’t die.  It’s really unexplainable.  It makes a pretty woman, prettier and a nice looking man handsome.  It is cliché but true.  It comes from inside and shines through.

“Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.”  Kahlil Gibran

“Beauty is the illumination of your soul.”  John O’Donohue

Until Next Week…

It has been way too long since I have ventured back to our conversation about senior sex                                  So here goes…

Life is so constantly fascinating.  I truly am the last person in my immediate world that should be writing on this subject, however, does that stop me, heavens, NO.

               Remember this saying?  “Those who can, do; those who can’t teach.”

So, just consider me your teacher.  While reading up on the subject of sex and seniors, many of the problems are obvious.  Age does have an affect on our sexuality, due to illness, medications, and let’s face it; the passing of years makes it often more difficult for men as well as women to perform.  Seniors, especially single seniors, have more isolated life-styles.  If you are a single woman or man it is necessary to keep active and involved.  It can be difficult to join a group or to go to places alone.  As a single woman, over sixty we do feel uncomfortable going to events or parties on our own.   I do attend parties alone and I occasionally go to the movies alone.  Actually, I have to admit, I prefer to go to movies alone.  I like to go to the first showing in the middle of the week.  Seniors usually get a discount … and I take the discount. I get a box of popcorn with butter and salt to munch on and a real coke and sometimes even a box of candy.  There is no one around me to frown at my choices. There are some good things about being single and being alone.

I imagine I don’t have to tell you that one can be alone and still have sex.  It isn’t as exciting or fulfilling, however, it is a possibility.  I am not a fan of sex where batteries must be included but that is just me, I don’t judge.   There isn’t anyone around to tell you that you better hit the gym on Monday morning.  No one is there to grab your love handles.  No one is grading you on your performance.  These are all pluses, however, you are, alone.

Putting yourself out there can be frightening.  Is there anything that is more embarrassing than being naked in front of another person?  I can’t think of anything as embarrassing or as vulnerable as nakedness?  NO there isn’t anything that compares to that situation.

What have I been hearing from my blog followers?   These are my mostly faceless, anonymous online men and women.   I am happy to announce that sex is still very much on most seniors’ minds.  There are two sets of newlyweds in our group.  YES!  Hooray!!!  One man has found real love.  I am not sure if this is heading towards marriage or not but he is happy and that is all that matters.  Two ladies are dating and still looking for, “Mr. Right.”  One lady has sort of lost faith in the possibility of finding a husband.  She tells me this but in her heart I think she hasn’t entirely abandoned the prospect of marriage.  Strangely enough more men talk to me about their sex lives.  Women seem to be shy when talking about sex.

Men ask my opinion.  This is so amusing to me because almost everyone has had more experience than moi, however, I am an avid reader.  You can really learn a lot from books. (I am smiling while writing this.)  So what are men talking about?  In the last few months’ one man asked me if it was odd for him to like women’s feet.  NO, THAT IS FINE AND NORMAL.  Lot’s of men are feet men.  There are a number of men who are leg men and some men are lovers of the derriere.  Lots of men like women dressed in all kinds of outfits.  Well, in various stages of dress or undress.  Now most of these men are in there 60’s and 70’s but I have heard from a few younger men. .  There are men who have explained about certain parts of a woman’s body that they find fascinating and I will not, shall we say, delve into this area, in any further detail.  I trust my readers to have big imaginations.

 There are men who have a hard time looking into a woman’s eyes.  Personally, I know that this can be a problem.  Just saying…. and men, this can be embarrassing while trying to have a normal conversation.  So, please try to look in a woman’s eyes, especially when at work!   Okay, there are some exceptions.  Let me explain.  If a woman is wearing a gown that is cut down to her waist, then you have my permission to stare at her chest.  If she is wearing a low cut blouse or sweater to work then men, you aren’t allowed to talk about it or touch, but frankly … I think you can take a quick glance.  Here is my advice to women.  Don’t get so upset when men stare.  If you wear short shorts … or low cut blouses or dresses or sweaters and you have every right to do so, but if you dress provocatively, don’t be surprised if men stare at you.  Frankly in these cases I am on the side of men.

Yes, I do have a few men that are intrigued by the author of this blog.  Well, I blush.  I am sure it sparks the imagination of some men since I write a blog with “sex” in the title.  Just to let you know.  I can’t tell you how tickled pink I am to think that as a 67-year-old woman I can still be in some men’s sexual fantasies.  NEVER EVER WOULD I HAVE IMAGINED THAT THIS WOULD BE A POSSIBILITY, as a senior.   This fact makes me stand up a little straighter.  Me, a sexual object: you can’t see my face, but, I’m smiling, a real big smile.

Until Next Week… 

Some people are better at this than others.  Some people actually manage to hide from this for most of their lives.  I am not fond of facing it but sometimes there is no escape.  When my children were young, both of my boys had issues with monsters and ghosts sneaking around their bedrooms at night especially right before bedtime.  I would read, hopefully, funny or cheerful books to them before bed and I always left a nightlight on.  Still those pesky monsters and ghosts and sometimes-even aliens (no not from other countries, the ones from outer space) would be hiding in their closets or under their beds.  I finally came up with a plan.  I decided to tell them the truth and believe it or not, it worked!

I told them that there are things to be afraid of in life.  I focused on three things.  I told them there are bad things in life and that these usually consisted of three things.

1. There IS such a thing as bad people. There are some people that might want to harm you. This is why I am so careful with you and that is why I watch out for you.  That is why I always tell you not to talk to strangers.
2. There is illness. That is why I try to get you to eat fruit, vegetables, milk, meat and fish.  That is why you need your sleep and why I make you wash your hands when you come home and before every meal.  That is also why I take you to the doctor and dentist.
3. There are accidents, some of these are preventable, and some are not. That is why I make sure you look both ways before you cross the street and why I tell you never to walk behind the school bus.

“All of these things are true and can happen so we will try our best to avoid them, however, ghosts and monsters and aliens from outer space are not real and are nothing to be afraid of at night in your bedroom. “

Guess what, it worked.  I gave them the truth.  I showed them reality and believe it or not reality was less frightening than their fears.

So, where does that leave us?  Reality is spooky but sometimes it is necessary to face it and look at it, straight in the eye.  Handling reality is tricky.  If you are reading this you are probably over 60 years old and so you have had to juggle this issue like most of us.  Facing the truth can be good when you can make changes to improve a situation.  If you can’t change the truth you are facing well this can be harder to figure out.  For example, everything that is alive must die.  We know this and we recognize this as a fact and a truth, however, it is still more than an uncomfortable concept to face.   Is it really good for us to dwell on this everyday, twenty-four hours a day?  Everyone we know and love and care about is going to disappear.   This is where Yin and yang come in.  It is good for us to recognize that we are all here for a short time and that this time and our family and friends are precious to us.  We can recognize this fact without it having a sense of doom hanging over our lives and our relationships. So, it is good to ignore the facts and to ignore reality as much as it is important to face it.

Being a March baby makes me a Pisces.  We are dreamers and most of us do our best to hide from truth and reality as much as possible.  I have been known to do this on occasion but I also have been responsible for taking care of my children, my pets, and yes my “was-band” for most of my adult life.  I have to bite the bullet and often face truths and reality when I would just like to stay in bed and cover my head with a blanket.

As a very small business ownerI will keep that going and I am working on expanding my business to improve my financial situation.  I am going to keep writing this blog to keep my creative side alive and well.  Creating keeps us young.  I decided to stop drinking alcohol (no I’m not an alcoholic) just to save money and as an experiment to see if I still have my old self-control and discipline in tact.  I loved smoking more than life itself and I gave that up 35 years ago.  I guess life was more important to me than cigarettes after all.  Now I’m not giving up alcohol for life.  I just am not going to have it every night from now on.  I want to see if this makes any difference in my life. (So far, so good.) Stopped over three weeks ago.  I just realized that I made a habit of having one to three glasses of wine every night.

My lady doctor asked me if I drink alcohol?  She is my new doctor and asked me all kinds of questions. “You don’t drink any alcohol do you?” she asked.  I have a really nun-like, sweet face, so no one suspects me of doing anything wrong. I answered, “ I don’t smoke.  I don’t take drugs. I don’t have sex.  I eat healthy foods, however, I do have two or three glasses of wine with ice. “  She looked perplexed and said, “Three glasses is too much.  You shouldn’t have more than one glass a day.”  I was shocked.  “I don’t need it I just like it.  Listen, I don’t have any bad habits… can’t I have some wine???”

Well, she told me that it wasn’t a good idea.  Not only wine, she told me to cut down on my salt intake too! “WHAT, NO SALT, NO CARBS, NO WINE!!!!”  I manage to face a fact or two and I am not giving everything up at the same time.  I do have salt … just less.  I am giving myself six weeks without any alcohol after that I will have it once or twice a week or if I go out to dinner with friends.  I am not going to have three drinks a night, every night.

There is still sex.  Oh I forgot, I am not having that either.  I have heard it is a good way to burn calories.   I am over 60 and I have to admit there isn’t anyone in my life right now but I have to take this reality thing … one step at a time.  I am not willing to face the reality that sex is over for good.  There is such a thing as taking reality and facing it and then there is a time for taking reality and placing it in your back pocket.

Until Next Week…

“Extemporaneous – to get along in a makeshift manner.” Merriam Webster- Word of the Day September 2, 2019.

Wow, so what happened to moving day?  Well, let me tell you.  I was so proud of myself because I pulled up my boot straps and started to work fast and furiously to accomplish the millions of things one has to do to complete a move from one place to another, which is made even more difficult when you are moving with a son and an ex (my was-band, only here for awhile) and three pets, all of which do little or nothing to help with the move.  I hired professional cleaners to do a deep clean, all the moving boxes arrived on time, along with the supplies, paper, magic markers, spools of tape, and bubble wrap. I changed TV and Computer Wi-Fi. Contacted the gas and electricity to be started on my moving day. I hired a maintenance man … (the cute, nice, one) to take down my tons of paintings and mirrors and TV off of the walls and to patch the holes left by the nails and hardware for hanging heavy objects. I reserved the elevator for the move 8 A.M. for Saturday.  The mover came to give me an estimate.  We worked out the moving plan.  He told me that his employees could pack anything that I had missed the day before the day of the movie.  I WAS READY!!! 

THERE WAS ONLY ONE MORE THING TO DO BEFORE THE MOVE.  I had only seen the apartment in photos and the plan of the apartment on my computer.  I thought I should see it in person.  So my son and I happily drove to our new residence on a bright, warm, sunny, Wednesday morning to drive to the other side of our fair city to check out the neighborhood as well as our new home. We noticed that there weren’t many stores in the area.  At a stoplight a homeless man standing right next to the car started screaming and swearing at me walking ominously, right next to my window yelling profanities when I motioned to him that I didn’t have any money with me.  I didn’t have a penny, only credit cards.He was frightening.  I told my son that I had hoped this was not a premonition of things to come.  We laughed, how people laugh in movies just before something terrible is about to happen.  

 As we entered our complex, flowers were blooming and the fountain was tossing small beads of water as I walked into the grand hall, with a 30 ft. ceiling towering above three modern desks sitting in a row in front of a lovely modern sitting room with a huge television that was set on to the Weather Channel.  I felt cheerful and relieved at the cool, pretty leasing office and sitting room.  A smiley young woman was sitting at the first desk.  I introduced myself and mentioned that I had signed a lease for apartment number 1717.  (BTW, I took the number of the apartment as a good omen.)   I asked if she could show me my apartment so that I could have an idea where to place my furniture ahead of the move.  I noticed that she had an odd sort of foreboding look on her face and I felt slightly uncomfortable.  She said to follow her.  I was surprised when my son and I drove through the iron gates and she stopped. I called out to her that we would follow her.  She said just park where she was standing, which was about four feet from the complexes’ locked gates.

 We walked directly across the street, walked up two stairs to a dirty, dark hallway with dead leaves flying in the breeze.   Around the dark hallway were two doors.  Our apartment was the first door on the right.  I noted right away that this corner would be a perfect spot for an unwelcome intruder to hide as a surprise to the renter (me) who would have her keys out and ready to open the door when returning home at night.  The door itself was dirty with three locks that looked as it they had been opened with a crowbar sometime in the past.  I held my breath when the leasing agent opened the door. As I entered and looked around my eyes adjusted to the dim light that entered through the smallish window in the living room.   I literally fell back a step or two as if someone had pushed me.  The kitchen was tiny, painted a dark grey just big enough for one person.  Under my feet was a plastic sheet of flooring that was supposed to resemble a wooden floor. It was easy to see that it wasn’t wood because there was a bubble that went across the floor announcing the fact that the floor was indeed plastic not wood.  The dining room was seven inches from the tiny kitchen.   On the right was a mirror that reflected a built in desk on the left supposedly for the lady of the house to use as a working desk.  The wood on the bottom of the desk was scuffed obviously the painters had missed it.  There were pillars separating the dining room from the living area, on either side of the dining room that managed to look ridiculous in such a small space.  (Nothing resembled the photos I had viewed on-line) The living room was a small square box.  I walked into the little hallway where I saw two broken doors that I pulled open to view an empty closet where a washer and dryer were supposed to be.  The agent said that I had to rent them for only $35 dollars a month. On the right was a hose covered in dirt and mold? Perhaps?

Next, I glanced at the two tiny bathrooms.  One had a tub the size that would have been perfect for a child of six or seven.  Two small square bedrooms were located on either side of the hallway each containing one window and one closet.  The only way to separate the master bedroom from the second bedroom was the fact that the master had a small walk-in closet, while the second bedroom had a small closet with a sliding door.

The straw that broke this camel’s back was the small balcony or porch?  This space was the size of a medium couch.  The balcony looked out on two sets of iron gates.  If you sat in a small chair at night with your glass of wine on this balcony every single car that would drive in or out of the complex opening and shutting the larger iron gate to come and go would see the person sitting with her wine glass in her hand and if they were friendly folks they could wave hello and goodbye every night.

To make a long story longer, I told the nice lady-leasing agent that I could not live in her complex.  Funny, she didn’t even try to talk me out of my decision.  She let me out of the lease immediately.

Interestingly enough my building took me back with open arms. My blood pressure returned to normal. My heart palpitations disappeared. My rent in my present luxury apartment is not that much more then the one I was going to move to, to save money. I decided that my son and I would just have to work harder to add to our income.  Sometimes it’s worth it to come home to comfort and a little bit of luxury.

What have I learned from this sad saga?  DO NOT MOVE INTO A HOME OR TO AN APARTMENT THAT YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IN PERSON, FIRST! 

UNTIL NEXT WEEK…

Men just don’t get it. They can’t help it.  They are different.  They are men, well, not really.  Men, (I have noticed lately) are all still little boys.  I think that they stop at about 12 or 13. However, at about 12 or 13 they are starting to notice girls too.  So they might go in a group to a girl’s house.  Sometimes out of the blue they just show up at the front door after school or on a Saturday for a chat.  Now this is where boys and girls are very different.  Boys and Men don’t have a clue about women as far as, just showing up, is concerned.  Girls and women change at around 12 or 13 and we require notice before meeting a boy or man for a chat.  We need to be at our best.  This usually doesn’t change for women from the age of about 12 until death. To look our best we have to have newly washed shiny hair and it has to be curled or set and brushed into a hairstyle of some sort.  If we are 12 we probably just need a touch of lip gloss on our lips and a nice new clean outfit to wear that will give a nice impression.

The whole idea of this post is to explain to men that we woman need time to fix ourselves to be our best before presenting ourselves to men and or to company in general.  It is my duty to show men that we of the female gender are, in fact, different.   This is not a popular idea in modern times. Young people like to believe that we are all the same.  I believe as this younger generation matures they will, possibly begrudgingly, realize that there are still some real differences between the male and female sexes.

I live in a high-rise building.  Our mailboxes are in a room off of the lobby.  When I leave my apartment to go to the elevator and down to the lobby.  I don’t leave my apartment unless I have brushed my hair, put on a clean presentable outfit and I usually have a bit of makeup applied to my face such as some lip gloss, a bit of blush and some mascara.  I have earrings in my ears and a spray or two of some sort of fragrance. You never know who you might run in to when riding the elevator or getting your mail. (I can hear my mother’s voice, from the past, in my mind.)  Now, most women understand this.  Most men will saunter out of the door of their apartment in their slippers or flip flops, with disheveled hair, in old jeans and a dirty t-shirt.  “Why get dressed up to get the mail?” they think to themselves.

Working from my apartment, 99.9% of my work revolves around using my computer and my phone.  My business requires me to be up in the morning and I work until about 3 P.M. or 4PM.    Therefore, I usually take my shower in the afternoon before dinner. During the day I am up and dressed but usually with my hair in a ponytail, working in yoga pants and a t-shirt while, working on my computer and or my writing.  I do not look my best.

Lately my men friends have discovered Face Time on their phones.  Let me tell you, my girlfriends and my family members, don’t now, nor have they, or we, ever used Face Time when calling each other.  We know better. I look my worst in the morning sitting at my computer with my coffee cup and a cookie.  I hate FACETIME.  Okay, true, if I had grandchildren I would probably love it but I don’t have any grandchildren.  If I ever do have any grandchildren I will probably be so old and wrinkled and decrepit that seeing my face on Face Time might scare the daylights out of the little tykes.

So, yesterday one of my man friends called me on Face Time to probably innocently to show me the scenery and the view from his deck.  I had just stepped out of the shower and I had a towel on my head.  I was sitting on my bed in my all together (so to speak) I literally almost answered the phone which would have been a shock for the both of us. I didn’t answer the call and I called him back (not on Face Time) explaining my present situation. We spoke for a minute or two and hung up … he gave me five minutes and he called me again on Face Time.  I didn’t answer.  So I sent him a text.  I said, “My hair is still wet.”  He sent me a text calling me a coward.  Yes, I am a coward.  Listen, at 25 girls can look pretty cute in a towel with wet hair.  At 67 it is a different story.  I dried my hair and set it.  I put on cream and then some makeup and earrings I put on a sweater. Yes, I even brushed my teeth and sprayed a little perfume on my hair.  I know you can’t smell on Face Time but I wasn’t taking any chances.  I called him back.  It is the first time we have seen each other outside of still photos.  I’m not 27 anymore.  I’m 67.

 Thank heaven I have reached this grand old age.  Life is good and it is bad but it is a privilege to be alive. It’s good to be honest and it is good to show the world the real me.  Yesterday, after our conversation I took a selfie, fully clothed, I might add.  I sent my selfie to my friend.  He sent me one too.  Today I put yesterday’s selfie on my Facebook page.  It is about time that I show the world the real me at 67 and counting. Now, men, please take this advice from me, to you.  If you are inclined to call any of your lady friends on Face Time, text them first and give them some time to get ready.  It takes a bit longer after 60 so have some patience with us.  Guys don’t care as much … we do.  So now I have displayed a picture of myself, how I looked 24 hours ago.  It is a photo, good or bad, but it is a photo of my face at 67 years old and it is a photo of, the real me. 

Until Next Week…