Tag: dating

Sundaz Wandering Thoughts

Frank passed away, so I’m remembering Frank. 95, he and Mom were together for his life’s last twenty years plus. Which, as I think about it, causes me to realize that Frank was about five years older than my present age when he and Mom met. My youngest sister, Lisa, was the agent of their coming together. Mom was dating another, Ed, at the time. Lisa worked in a bank. She regularly saw Frank and decided that Frank and Mom were a good match. When she suggested it to Frank, he asked, “Is she pretty?” Lisa beamed and gave a knowing nod. “Yep.”

Lisa was right. Mom and Frank hit it right off. All was a lot of fun for years. Biking, walking, movies, tennis, dancing, estate sales. They had a good life before Mom’s accidents, health, and drugs crippled things. I’m happy they had those years together.

When my wife and I talked about it, she marveled about old people dating. “People our age,” she exclaimed as we both laughed. She went on, “I’m like that song. I’m not ready to get naked in front of another.”

We spoke more seriously about friends and relatives our age and older dating. Ron, 78, lost his wife ten years ago to breast cancer. He’s had a regular girlfriend for three years. Now he’s dating another woman and they’re having fun. Sis-in-law, coming up on 70, has a regular boyfriend, her third since her husband died of brain cancer about five years ago (I think). Then there’s Barb, 81 this Feb, dating a guy who is her age. Both had preferred younger people and would hook up with someone for a few months and then move on. Now, months into this relationship, Barb professes that she’s in love. Sweet and beautiful.

So, there’s hope, if you put yourself out there. As Frank and Mom did. Hell, as Dad did. Now at 92, he’s on his third marriage. It’s lasted over thirty years, the longest marriage of his life, and he seems happy and contented.

Hope and love aren’t limited by age.

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Another Dream Car

One of my dreams last night left me puzzled but optimistic and in a better mood when I awoke. As I went over its details with myself, one part that captivated me was it featured my first car.

In the dream, I was a young man again, and I was driving my first car. This was a 1965 Mercury Comet. Forest green, it was a four door automatic sedan with a 289 V8.

Dad gave me the car. He’d recently remarried, and this was his new wife’s transpo. Dad bought himself a used service van at an auction to drive to and from work, and turned over his 1974 Chevy Monte Carlo to her to drive. I was completely blown away by their decision. They’d not talked to me about it ahead of time. Until then, I’d been hitching or walking to get around.

With a car, I suddenly had a dating life and began dating the girl who is my wife. Our dates were never much because, car or not, I didn’t have much money. Dad did give me gas money and a few bucks besides. But I was in high school and on sports teams, and local jobs in our rural region were scarce.

After graduating, I joined the military and went in for training. After I returned home from basic training and tech school, I drove that car three hundred miles through a snow storm to my new duty assignment at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Fairborn, Ohio. It was a taxing drive. Ice and snow were thick on the car by my journey’s end.

One day, the car wouldn’t start. It was probably a starter or selenoid switch. As it was a 1965 car and this was 1975, and it was a four-door sedan, I did what many guys would do, and bought my first used car, a sleek little 1968 Chevy Camaro with a 327 V8. Ah, fun car! Young car!

I left the Comet sitting in its parking spot. A man saw it sitting there without movement, hunted me down, and bought it. I’m not sure how much he gave me but I didn’t haggle. The thing is, though, when he went to change registration, he learned it was still Dad’s car.

Oh, yeah.

Dad was pretty pissed but the sale went through. I still laugh about it, and he still shakes his head.  

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Some Light

Some Light

Tell me all your secrets

I’ll share a few of mine

We can talk and have coffee

Or maybe a glass of wine

You can tell me about your first love

And what you do for fun

About your first kiss, about your last love

And how that came undone

We can walk together under stars

Mention all the past

Or remember funny movies

And laugh until we cry

We can shake hands before we go

Or maybe kiss good night

I’m not looking for that much

I’m just searching for some light

~ m.w.seidel

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Heavy winds powered us to Saturday, January 14, 2023. Winds began last night, a bit before midnight and have only given us small breaks. Still, they’re not hugely destructive in our area, except to our minds as we say, “Wind and rain again?” While rain is good in general, the cisterns are full so it’s just flowing away. Snow is needed. Snow, snow, snow up in the mountains. Fingers crossed that our snow needs are being met.

Sunrise was at 7:38 this morning, a dull light through a gray skein, glistening off a wet landscape. Temperature is 41 F. Sunset has moved back to 5:03 in the late afternoon, giving us a few more minutes of daylight, which is highly friggin’ welcomed. Gonna rain all day but the high temperature should kiss the low fifties. Meanwhile, across the country in Ashland, VA, sunrise was at 7:25 AM and sunset is 5:14 PM.

Thinking of all this, I acknowledge what a complainer I am. I like change and variation in my daily weather, but even if that happens too much, I’ll complain. Complaining is the nut of who I am, I think. Everyone must have a hobby. Complaining seems to be mine.

Papi, aka the Ginger Blade and the Little Prince, though he’s not that little any longer, matching Tucker in weight, height, and girth, is not a wind fan. Doesn’t stop that floof from demanding that he be let out. Not long before he begs to return back inside, and then, lo, insisting that no, outside is where he really wants to be. Once, he went out the back door on the patio, got a wind shove with all of its noise, trotted back in, and then turned around and went back out. Floofs. They can be sweet, endearing, and exasperating.

I was going to use “It’s Raining Again” by Supertramp, after The Neurons heard me say, “It’s raining again.” But I overruled them after reading of Robbie Bachman’s death. He was the drumming force behind Bachman-Turner Overdrive, or BTO. BTO’s music was part of the high school scene for me. “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet” from 1974 was almost our theme music when my wife and I were dating. She loved it when I sang “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet” to her when the song came on the radio. What can be said but we were in love? Another musician from my youth gone, another one to thank for their music and its impact on my life.

Time to get cracking. I’ve been sipping my coffee. The coffee fuel has reached The Neurons. They’re impatient to get to the writing part of the day. Stay positive and test negative, a hope that’s really beyond our control. Fingers crossed that when you do test positive, it’s as soft and fleeting as a spring zephyr. Here is BTO. Cheers

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The Date

It’d been three years since her husband had passed away.

Amanda decided it was time to put herself back out there. She rationalized (without hard thinking) that her husband’s slow demise (three years of fighting lymphoma and brain tumors before his death) had left her long enough without male companionship. (She didn’t define herself that way, but she liked having a masculine presence in her life.) As she’d heard good things about it, she decided to give Silver Singles a try.

In her early sixties and a successful business woman with two grown children, she thought she’d have no problems. She was right. Within days, she had a first date.

He was as described, six four, two hundred forty pounds, mostly muscle, not bad for sixty-five. Lunch was scheduled. They hit it off well. This being Sunday, he said, “Shall we go back to my place to watch some football.”

“Sure,” she replied. “I have nothing better planned.”

Off they went! After a short period, she excused herself to use his bathroom. When she left the bathroom, he was standing nearby with a small smile. Apparently, he’d assumed (she assumed) that her going to the bathroom was to freshen her lady bits for him, as he said (with a suggestive smirk), “Shall we adjourn to the bedroom?”

“No,” she replied.

“Well, can I touch your breasts?”

“No.”

“Will you show me your breasts?”

“No!”

“You want to make out on the couch?”

“Nooo.”

“Well, you wanna see my bits?”

“I think it’s time to go.”

*True story. Only the name was changed.

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The Joke

“There’s a Dairy Queen. Want to go there for dessert?”

“Okay.” She sounded pleased.

He’d been joking but he made the right turn, found parking, and they went inside. It’d been a long time since they’d been in a DQ, and the menu was different from those days, requiring a study of offering, ingredients, and calories. Finally choices were made. “Do most people take a long time like I did?” he asked the young cashier.

She smiled. “Yes, most do.”

His wife said, “We used to go to the Dairy Queen when we were dating. Not this one, but I mean, another Dairy Queen. It was the only place around.”

“That was literally almost fifty years ago,” he said. He and his wife laughed.

The cashier smiled. “Your orders will be up in a moment.”

 

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Telling

Beers glasses were raised and clinked together. Tastings followed. The trio got down to business.

“How’d it go with the date?” Ron asked Pat.

“Good, real good.” Pat smiled. “Third one, so you know what that means.”

Bryan laughed. “Is that what that still means?”

“Yes.” Pat nodded. “Indeed, it does.”

Ron raised his glass. “To your new girlfriend? Or is it too early?”

Pat grimaced. “It might be too early. She’s a swell person, wonderfully intelligent and accomplished, sexy, of course — ”

“Of course,” Ron said as Bryan said, “That’s a sexist attitude.”

“It is, but she is a knockout.” After glancing over his shoulders, Pat leaned in over the table. The other two leaned in as well. “The only thing is, she farts a lot,” Pat said in a low voice. “They don’t make any noise, so it’s not that, but they smell terrible.”

“She farts?” Bryan said.

Pat nodded. “And it’s not a little poot now and then. When she farts, I want to flee like the villagers running from Godzilla. And it’s not her fault. We’ve talked about it. She’d apologized after I complained about the rank smell invading my car. She told me it was a side effect of a medicine she’s been on a long time. She’s tried changing her diet and she’s looked into other meds, but nothing will work for her. And anxiety, like from dating, apparently makes it worse.”

“Wow.” Looking at Bryan, Ron sat back. “That’s a shame. A smelly farter. Damn”

Pat sighed. “Yeah, I’d hate for it to end for that, because she’s otherwise so wonderful, and I feel lucky to know her and be dating her.”

Bryan nodded. “Have you told her about your troubles in peckerville?”

Sitting back, Pat sipped his beer a moment and then smiled. “No. The way I see it, there’s no sense in telling her about that until I know if I can live with the farting.”

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Coming Things

I was watching “Future Man” on Hulu last night. An eHarmony commercial came on. The featured woman said, “I don’t want to waste time with men who aren’t right for me.”

I thought, soon such apps and approaches will expand. What person should I have as a friend? What books should I read, what television shows should I watch, or what movies should I go to?

Apps will tell you which you’re most likely to enjoy, enabling you to avoid wasting time with other people or activities that aren’t right for you.

Sad. You can learn a lot from wasting time with things that aren’t right for you.

You can even have a good time.

Instead, let’s narrow our minds and reduce our bubbles just a little bit more.

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