I realized recently that every time I’ve ventured out alone these past few months– to a used bookstore, a beach watering hole, a meditation class, a jazz club– I’ve met a man. It hasn’t gone beyond flirtatious conversation and the decision by one or both parties to leave it at that, but I can’t complain.
Recently I had a really nice conversation with a man, someone who has lived his life “outside of the mainstream” as he described it, and when I googled him later realized he was close to sixty. A friend of mine, a woman my age (early forties), is embarking on her second relationship in the past two years with a man in that age range. After mulling it over, though, I’ve decided that however sexy, sweet, and mellowed I occasionally find the late fifties/early sixties man, that scenario is not for me.
If I believed that having a romantic relationship, any romantic relationship, was the most important thing in life, I might be more willing. But monogamous relationships have opportunity costs, taking me away from other things I could be doing, and if the person is much younger or much older, they may end up taking me away from the age-appropriate tasks that are important for me to go through.
It feels almost revolutionary, even in this day and age, to decide that my development is as important as being involved with a man, but there it is. I’m still hoping to find the person who feels right, but I’m willing to hold out, having my own fun and growing along the way.