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

So now that I am on the dark side of my 60’s better known as “over 65” also known as “65 and over” occasionally known as “from 65 to death”.  I have never fit exactly into any category; which is actually all right by me.  I hate being placed in a category.  All through life there are schools and teachers and bosses and large companies and doctors and hospitals and insurance agencies…. (the list goes on and on) that are trying to make us all fit into a specific category.  Heck, sometimes your family and friends, husbands and even children try to fit you into something that they can recognize.  Right now I am 66 years old, soon to be 67 years old.  This alone puts me into a category in the minds of doctors, hospitals, insurance companies, in the minds of all young people … actually all people under 60; she’s old, not very insurable … might not live long, probably a grandmother or great-grandmother, winding up her life or some say winding down, retired? Widow?  She has cats, a cat lady?  She has a dog,  for companionship?  She looks rich and she speaks like she has money.  She lived in Europe.  She’s a snob, an old snob.

What if I told you that I have been the mistress of a very, famous, very married, younger man for the last five years and even my best friends aren’t aware of this secret?  What if I told you that I once robbed a bank?  What if I told you that I pretended to be a famous American Women’s Lib. feminist. A reporter wrote a story about me with a large photo of me in an Italian newspaper? What if I told you that I was invited to a home for dinner with the daughter of a dictator?   We were served potato chips in silver bowls and we were greeted at her front door by a butler.  What if I told you that I knew a man whose family disrupted the gold market?  Now some of these statements are true and some are lies.   Can you tell which are true and which are lies? So now isn’t it harder to place me, the 66 going on 67 year-old-woman, in a specific category?  I thought so.  *(If you want to know which of the above statements are true and which are false, keep reading.)

It depresses me to think that after a certain age women can be discounted from so much of life.  Women are no longer considered sexual. We are someone’s mother or grandmother.  Men are still considered to be sexy and a catch, frankly, until they die.  When has a woman over 60 been considered a sexy, catch? …. really, never, unless she is rich.

For television, the target group is from 18 to 45. Why you might ask yourself? …. because the 18 to 45, age group is considered to be the group that buys the most products and it is assumed, in the marketing world, that this age group are easily persuaded to try new products.  This last statement, I have to admit … might be the truth.  If you have lived to the ripe old age of 60 or over, let’s just say we have seen it all and we have tried everything and by now we know what products work and what products don’t work.  I do however, have a beef with the idea we do not buy a lot of products.  For instance, my “was-band” (my husband that was) bought two cars in the last four years … one for my oldest son and one for my youngest son.  I moved into a new apartment a year and a half ago and I bought new furniture for my dining room and my front room.  I also bought a new set of dishes, silverware, three sets of glasses (a gift from my sister), new sheets and towels and a new comforter.  SO THERE, MARKETING GURUS.

Okay, for politicians …. if you are over 60…. they still want your vote.  Politicians want our votes to our very last breath.  Age doesn’t matter to most politicians.  A vote is a vote is a vote.  Some politicians, especially in Chicago, often get our votes even after we are dead.

This brings me back to my real question. What do I put on applications? Who am I anyway?  Married, Single, Divorced, senior, over 65?  Here they go again pushing me into their categories. I have a “was-band” and he is probably at this very moment, having dinner with his girlfriend somewhere in the world. Therefore, I consider myself, available.  Heck, if someone falls madly in love with me and he wants to marry me and if he will pay for my lawyer; I will be happy to get divorced.  Right now, I don’t really see the point?  Should I get divorced because it would look better? To whom?  Men would find me more attractive?

My mother once called me an enigma.  Let’s face it.  I am very conventional looking unconventional person.  I am a well-read, sort of open-minded prude, religious in my own non-religious way, friendly and shy, outgoing and standoffish.  It’s just too difficult to put me into any category.   PLEASE, don’t list me only … as a senior, I am more than that.  I am not yet, as of today’s date, a grandmother.  I am an owner of a tiny business and I write a blog with sex in the title.  I just might decide to do something wild and exciting and terrific in the next few years. Who knows?  If I have to fill out another application for anything, I would like to be able to circle something that says, “Just, Me” someone, who doesn’t exactly fit into any ordinary category.

*{Now, for the answers to the questions in the second paragraph… unfortunately, I am not any young man’s mistress.  I am unfortunately not anyone’s mistress at least not as of today, but you have got to admit, didn’t that make me seem more exciting? I have never robbed a bank. Well, once, when I was standing in front of an ATM I found money siting in the curved dish.  I walked into a bank to give the money back.  The girl at the front desk took the money and she said, “I’ll take it but there isn’t any way for us to find the person that left their money in the ATM.” I was shocked at her answer.  The next time I found money in that same ATM … there was no one around and I kept the money.  So I guess you can say I sort of robbed a bank.  This was 25 years ago so things have probably changed as far as money being left in ATM’s.   All of the other statements are true.  I pretended to be a famous Woman’s Lib. feminist for a person who asked me to do them a big favor.  I was embarrassed but I did it.  I went to college in London with a daughter of a dictator… she was a friend of mine. I went to dinner at her townhouse.  They had many servants. We ate out of silver bowls.  Lastly, I knew a young man in France whose family was supposed to be involved with the disruption of the gold market.  At least, that was the rumor at the time.  BTW I am not a snob… at least, don’t call me an OLD snob.  I am not rich… I will accept money from anyone who wants to donate to my fund (I haven’t started one yet)  for my possible future retirement.}

Until Next Week …