So here you are. Sixty something, on your own again, and whatever it was that got you here, the worst of it has passed. You have decided something needs to change. Not dramatically. You would just rather not spend another winter with nobody to talk to about the news.
Now think back to your last first date. Decent odds it was with the person you then spent thirty years married to. You were what, nineteen? Twenty two? Whatever the number, the world it happened in has gone. The roller rink is a condo. The mixtape is a museum piece. And the rules, such as they were, have been quietly rewritten while you were busy raising a family.
Let us go through what has actually changed, because it is less than you fear.
The obvious point first. You are not twenty, and neither is anybody you will meet, which removes a great deal of nonsense from the process. Pulling up outside somebody's house on a borrowed bike with no muffler would not land the way it did in 1979, and that is fine, because you have something better now. You know who you are. You stopped performing about two decades ago. People notice that, and at this age they actively prefer it.
Including you. They have probably been married. There may be adult children, grandchildren, a business somebody will not sell, a parent needing looking after, a dog with firm views on visitors. None of that is directed at you.
When the ex phones during dinner, that is his past, not your present. When hers arrives to collect the grandkids and looks put out to find you in the kitchen, that is not about you either. The only thing that has ever worked here is saying it out loud early: this is what I am comfortable with, this is what I am not, what about you. You are both far too old to be sulking about something you have not mentioned.
Everyone does by now. The real trap is not the baggage, it is the temptation to rebuild the last relationship using new parts. Do not. This is a different person, and if you are honest, you are a different person too. Let it be whatever it turns out to be. It might be better. It will certainly be less predictable.
Leave the suitcase at the station. You can always wire for it later if you find you miss it.
The important bit. Everybody wants somebody, and getting older does not exempt you. If anything you are better equipped than you were: you know what you want, you know what you will not tolerate, and you have stopped spending years working out the difference.
One practical note for this country. Distance is real, winters are long, and a person three hours away in July can be a different proposition in January. Be honest with yourself about how far you would actually drive on a dark evening, and set your search accordingly. There is no prize for optimism about road conditions.
So take a breath and sign up for an online dating account. Worst case, you get a few decent conversations and something to report back on at the next family dinner.
Author: Judy Porter.