dating after 50

The men were well dressed, intelligent, good looking, successful, good communicators. They smiled and laughed easily and were outgoing.

I moved among them, chatting and flirting. They were engaging and interesting.

Yet I felt I was starving at this feast of men.

Why?

This is the motto for some married travelers. They see solo journeys as an opportunity to cheat.

Of course, cheaters don’t need to be away from home to be opportunistic. One can cheat with one’s next door neighbor if one wants. A new friend shared that her now ex-fiancé had another fiancée 5 miles from her house — concurrent with her engagement.

During my recent two-week Turkey sojourn I was aware of the many chances to explore a fling if I desired. Waiters and shop keepers seemed particularly willing. They have a steady supply of potential romp-mates. My 53-year-old travel partner accepted a maître d’s offer for a make out session. He would have liked more. We have no idea if he’s married.

A gal pal mentioned that no one flirts with her. Or if someone does, she doesn’t know it. We are in Turkey and she is learning to get her flirt on.

It seems that part of a Turkish boy’s initiation into manhood is a lesson on flirting. Or maybe this is just among merchant and restaurant classes.

I logged onto a favorite dating site and eagerly opened the daily matches that are based upon mutual criteria. Only rarely is there someone who seems a match, but I look nonetheless.

On this site, one has no control over which profiles are served — the match’s whole profile just shows up in one’s daily matches. There is no preview with location, age and pics as with other sites. Because you are taken to their profile immediately upon hitting “take me to my next match” it shows up in the matchee’s system as a “view.”

When they recorded “Somebody to Love” Jefferson Airplane made famous the sentiment that we all want someone to love:

Don’t you want somebody to love
Don’t you need somebody to love
Wouldn’t you love somebody to love
You better find somebody to love.

For many, loving someone is as important, if not more so, than having someone love them. One assumes that love is reciprocal, but of course, it’s not always.

One of the most common items I see listed under men’s “What I’m looking for” area in online profiles is “drama free.”

It makes me scratch my head wondering why it’s so common.

I know this question requires you to imagine you had the Men in Black memory eraser applied to you. Then you could forget all his lying, cheating, hurtfulness, selfishness, and/or slovenliness.

So imagine that you just met your now-ex — at a party, work, school, gym, with friends, in the hot tub — whatever would be plausible now at your current ages and location. You see him. Would you be drawn to talk to him?

Last week a fellow globetrotting gal pal and I were sitting by the pool in Siem Reap, Cambodia during a 2-week trip to SE Asia. We were comparing notes about our recent dating lives. Or lack thereof. And our frustration at finding a sweetheart who had the means, time and desire to travel, and who had mutual attraction.

It began 9 years ago today. I call it “The Great Awakening.”

Two days earlier we’d returned from a romantic week in a favorite city. We held hands walking in the rain-cleansed park, enjoyed restaurant meals and sight-seeing together, had laughs with friends, and had passionate nights.

He was intermittently moody during the vacation, sometimes walking 20 paces ahead or behind me saying he needed some solitude. I was used to this behavior, as it happened occasionally in our 20-year marriage. It was usually a phase and if I gave him space, he worked it out.

But returning home, he still seemed a bit distant. I asked if anything was wrong and he said no, so I figured he’d get over it soon enough. I fixed one of his favorite meals, and since it was Friday, we usually watched a movie.

As we were finishing dinner, he asked what I’d like to do after dinner, watch a DVD? I said sure.

Then there was a long pause. I’ll remember what he said next for the rest of my life.

You sit comfortably and watch the dishes go by. You pick what looks appealing.

If you’re curious, you look more carefully and read whatever description is provided.

If an interesting one slips by without your snagging it, soon another option appears right in front of you. You don’t even have to move.

In fact, more often than not, the same dish will come back in a little while.

His profile listed his name as “Micheal” (sic). But his first email was signed “Gerald.” When I asked him about the discrepancy, he admitted his name was, indeed, Micheal. He said, “I just didn’t feel it was right to go ahead with my real name at first.”

Didn’t he realize everyone he contacted would see his name was listed as Micheal?