Dating After 40

So I lost my soulmate last year on June 11th. He died suddenly, and I was not only heartbroken, but regrettably tossed back into the ugly and awkward world of dating.

The worst thing you'll notice about dating after 40 is there is minimal selection. Like, seriously, where do they breed these freaks?

Not that I HAD TO get back into the dating pool, but hey, since I'm a romance novelist, I find men a little necessary, you know?

First off, my friend Carol told me to check out a dating site of older men who liked pretty younger women. What a disaster that turned out to be! The site was about "sugaring" --where an older man spoils and pampers a younger lady, takes her on a nice vacation, sets her up nicely with a comfortable lifestyle, etc. Well, all the men I met either wanted me as a sex slave, a maid or personal chef, or just a quickie in the back seat. After 2 weeks of nothing but "duds" and disappointments, I was done. "Michael" a pudgy guy of 55 with the moniker "St. Nick" on his dating profile took me for coffee (cheap bastard) at 9:30 at night and then hinted at a little "action." Repulsed, I turned him down and we only talked 2 times after that, till he blocked me. What a creep!

Now, in my defense, I wasn't desperate or anything. Not at all. He seemed nice and we chatted easily online before meeting and he hadn't appeared creepy. That was a year ago and I haven't been online since.

Then there was "Mike" whom I met through a mutual Facebook friend, who'd played the valiant hero, opening doors for me, bringing me Chinese takeout, surprising me outside my work in a snowstorm and driving me home. He seemed like a big cuddly teddy bear, he was 300 lbs, bearded and long-haired, a sort of Duck Dynasty figure, without the plaid. Well, Mike had lost his spouse to cancer six years prior and claimed he was "just not ready" but the jerk put me on the phone with his mom and she said he had "told me so many nice things about you...but that's a secret between me and my son."

My heart soared. I was ecstatic. He was confiding in Mom, and he had dropped hints that maybe he would give Mom her first grandchild, since she "always wanted a little girl to spoil and coddle."

The wheels were turning and I was hopeful that this could be promising. Silly me. I'd become a third wheel and made a mockery. There was his dowdy, plain Jane "ex" named Lori whom he always drove everywhere. Soon she was always in the truck when he picked me up from work and my hopes were crushed. I told him after 3 months of him calling me on the phone, shoveling my mile-long snowy driveway, taking me out to dinner and confiding in me four hours a night in his truck, plus all the flirtations that had gone on, "have a nice life and enjoy your ex." He went off the deep end and denied they had any involvement. He also made a rant on social media against me, and said "this woman and her daughter were ungrateful for the help I offered...bought 'em groceries and tried to find 'em a place to live." He was transferring guilt onto me because he was giving me a mind f#%^ and not owning up to it.

Sayonara, Fat Bastard!

Onto better things. Months later, I was at a karaoke pub, walked in there solo one Friday night when the place was rather dead, save for a few men at the bar. One man bought me 2 beers and chatted me up an hour (painful!!) and I realized I'd rather have had a root canal. But to be nice, I politely listened to his boring spiel about himself. Never once did he inquire about me or my interests! Then, he excused himself and said he had to work in the morning. Holy Christ, men are so obnoxious and odd!! I was seconds away from grabbing my nun's garb and joining the convent.

Enter a man named Peter. Twenty years older than me and well dressed. He wore a black fedora, cool black shades, and a well-trimmed white goatee. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asked suavely.

"Sure," I replied with a warm smile.

"Hi, I'm Pete." He extended a hand, which I shook and he handed me a bottle of Bud Lite.

"Let's grab a table," he said, leading the way toward the stage where a singer was belting a rock song. The conversation with Pete just flowed. We talked old music, my romance writing career, and shared interests. He asked me what song I'd put up, and I proudly said "My Guy, by Mary Wells."

"Unreal!" he shrieked. "My two favorite songs are from Motown, My Girl and My Guy."

After I crooned MY GUY and he was blown away, it was closing time and Pete offered to walk me home. I politely declined, because I never let strangers near my door, so we ended up texting till 4:00 a.m. after I'd gone to bed. He later texted me in the afternoon and asked for a coffee date. That turned out well, and we met continually over the span of many weeks, went to dinner, saw live music, went to the lake for a walk. There were music festivals all summer and he introduced me to his friends. Now, I'm invited to his big Canadian Thanksgiving shin dig this October 8th.

Things have been going well, for once since my soulmate Trace died, and I gotta say...I'm a believer. There really ARE some decent men out there. The shark tank isn't ALL that bad, after all. You might have to drop your "Prince Charming List" and date someone normally out of your looks range, or age range...because, let's face it, once we hit 40, there isn't much to choose from. Divorced, balding, ex drama, or no ex drama...kids or teens to deal with...baggage galore.

Friends razzed me for dating someone MUCH older, but I just laugh it off. Besides, Pete and I have much more in common than guys my age do with me. Classic cars obsession, both divorced, kids grown up, love of food, beer music, and sightseeing. Heck, we're both even Blue Jay fans.

I'd say my gamble on an older man has paid off. So far, so good. Stay tuned.