Laurel helped me weekly with the cleaning and shopping. The Center said I didn't need to wear a tie any longer to work since I couldn't get anyone to help me in the mornings. Local Rotary club members cut my grass in the spring and summer. People heard about my needs and were nice to offer their assitance.
Well-meaning friends advised me to sell the house and move into a handicapped-accessible apartment. I wouldn't have to worry about the grass or shoveling snow in the winter.
It was a great idea, but now I had Bud. Plus home is home. As long as I could pay my taxes I wanted to stay in my parents' home for as long as I could.
Most of my family did start dropping by as the years went by. Mom would've wanted us to get along. I began going to cook-outs and special events in the clan. The topic of Mom was hardly ever brought up, which was just as well, I suppose.
It was New Year's Day of 2016 and I just got back from one of those family functions. I fed Bud and relaxed in my room, preparing for work the next day. Always a downer to go back after the holidays.
I had the Sci-Fi channel on TV, half paying attention to the Twilight Zone Marathon they were heavily into. A commercial came on about a "senior dating site," one I had never heard of before. It caught my eye and for reasons I can't explain I memorized the website address.
I had tried the computer dating scene before, even when Mom was alive. I was always honest about my disability and put a legitimate, up-to-date picture ( that really was me) on my profile. I was too naive to know that lying was a big part of those dating sites.
Needless to say I didn't get very many replies. More like none at all. Why should I put myself through such heartache? Those sites were like bars- very superficial. If you looked attractive you had a shot, that was the bottom line. Who wanted to go out with a little guy who used a wheelchair? Nobody.Or so I thought.
But once again that little voice inside told me to check it out. I never had much luck with computers. But I did find Bud, and after two years together, he continued to be a great dog and even better friend.
The site was geared to older adults. Anyone over 50 could apply. Same usual fees and rules, which no one really abides to. I checked out some of the local female profiles for free. If interested and you want to contact her, you had to sign up. That was the catch.
I had it with long distance relationships. I wanted to find a nice woman nearby, someone I could actually see once in awhile, not once a year. Someone with a car...oh yes, that driving issue was rearing it's ugly head again. Another strike against me. What woman would want to drive on a date, handle a wheelchair and use her own car each time? No one, or so I thought.
But maybe I could find a friend. Lord knows I tried. But where does one go to find someone nice? I didn't drink, so a bar, or what I called a "meat wagon" wasn't good for me. The Center allowed their employees to date, unlike the Manor. In fact there were a few married couples working there. But it seemed every time I tried to ask someone out I got chicken. I always hated rejection and didn't allow myself a chance. How would I find someone special, someone who looked into my heart and soul and not at my legs, someone who didn't care how I got around- if I didn't give them ( or myself) a chance?
The girls at work were nice and would politely say no or say they had a boyfriend or whatever the excuse. I didn't push it because I had to see them everyday. Plus there was added emphasis on the topic of Sexual Harassment at work, so I had to know when to not cross the line, even if it was something as innocent as going to a movie. Not worth losing my job over.
I dated the ( unbeknownst to me) married nurse at the Manor and that was a disaster. Better to keep work and your personal life separate. More fish in the sea, as they say, but which harbor were they in?
Bookstores and grocery stores were good places to meet. I could start going with Laurel once a week to the store but that would be sort of awkward, trying to pick up a female shopper while another woman was pushing my cart full of frozen dinners.
Church was another possibility but I'm sure Mom wouldn't have approved of that tactic, even though she always said "I wish you would find a nice girl..." But I could also hear her say, "'You go to church to pray, not to fool around."
My age was working against me too. Here I was,pushing 60. Most woman my age were grandmothers by now. I would have nothing in common with a twenty-something female. Make that thirty-something and even forty-something. God, did I feel old.
So, this senior dating thing didn't sound too bad. At least I would be in the ballpark age-wise. So, I completed a profile, added a picture ( me in a suit and tie at work, after I had won " County Employee of the Year" my first year at the Center). I rarely wore a suit in real life, only to funerals and weddings, none of which I attended very often. I was always a jeans and sweatshirt guy, preferable Phillies and Eagles gear. I hopede whomever answered me liked sports .
Actually, I didn't add many "requirements" in my profile. Beggars can't be choosers. Just someone nice. And local. And not attached. Preferably no kids. I loved children and always thought I would've made a pretty cool father but I was way beyond that. Still, what were the odds I would find someone "perfect" like that?
Having common interests was important. Being a good communicator. And of course, someone with a good personality, who likes to laugh and who has a good sense of humor, someone with a caring, kind heart .Oh, and she must like dogs. Bud made sure I put that part in.
Me? I was honest, a hopeless romantic, funny, likes sports, music and movies.I left out the "don't drive" part for now. Why push it?
I posted the profile and waited.
I checked my profile each day for the next week. Many ladies viewed my information. Like sharks circling fresh bait. No one responded. I wasn't surprised. My confidence sank.
Then, out of the blue, someone did respond! It was a girl about 15 minutes away. She claimed she was 46, had two kids who lived with their father and she lived in a three-story apartment.
Didn't she read my profile? Maybe not as I was quickly learning that photos count the most. Many people on those dating sites don't really care about if you took the time to write a sensitive, intelligent narrative. They only look at the photos.
She must've thought I was cute because she did answer my profile. She wanted me to meet her this coming Sunday afternoon. She would cook chicken for dinner. She included her phone number in the reply. She was moving way too fast for me.
I did call her, to see if she was for real. She wasn't playing games. She was very direct in what she wanted. Extremely direct. But she wasn't my cup of tea, so I politely declined, whereas before she hung up she parted ways by saying "Your loss."
This online dating thing wasn't going to be easy.
One week left in January. Still no luck. By the end of the month the "new" profiles of local senior females were being recycled every week. Pretty soon there was no one new to contact. I decided if I didn't find anyone by the end of the month it wasn't meant to be. Maybe I was destined to be by myself. I was happy now but knew I could be happier. I wasn't going to pay for an extra month, or three months or even a six month membership and waste my money on rejection.
When all seemed lost, and my membership was down to the final three days of January, there was Holly, and my life changed forever.
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