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In November 2009, my 41-year marriage began to wobble, and then disintegrated completely 2 months later. The circumstances that triggered this sea change are irrelevant. Today I focus on how this retired grandmother found love for a second time. Fate or luck had nothing to do with it.
Over a span of 4 short months, I went from happily sharing a house with my life partner (with whom I’d fallen in love at 18) to living solo while crying and raging a lot. Really a lot. Having retired 3 years earlier, I filled my suddenly solitary days with writing in a journal, exercising, reading self-help books, and taking care of grandchildren. And still raging, trying to figure out how to live alone for the first time in my life.
Six months into this new lifestyle I began to notice attractive men my age but had no idea how to make contact. Well-meaning married friends told me stories of online dating leading to genuine love, so, although the last time I’d played the dating game was in my teens, I eventually gave in and decided to try it out.
In building my first profile, I had to list the 3 Most Important Qualities I wanted in a partner: “Active lifestyle,” I wrote, “Sense of humour, Genuine concern for others.” It was a fun and enlightening exercise – like listing the features you want in a new car.
After messages from interested men began arriving, I sought advice from single friends who’d tried this humiliating process. I felt uncertain and muddled about my values and goals and now had to learn how to make small talk over coffee with a complete stranger in a public place.
Looking in the bathroom mirror, I’d ask aloud, “Who am I anyway?” For over 41 years, part of my identity was anchored by my husband, and now I was floating like a balloon in a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. And I no longer had a successful consulting career to enhance my self-image.
Dating Disasters
I stayed online for months, trying 3 different dating sites and suffering 4 different dating disasters. After each relationship began with hope and ended in disappointment, I would identify what I’d learned, to avoid repeating that mistake. Face it, I was now in my 60s, and naivety was a lousy excuse for selecting the wrong guy.
From the first 6-week friendship, with a tall nuclear scientist called Mark*, I learned how to tell a man what I need in terms of communication, and how to be intimate again. That was a big step. From a scary cross-country skiing date with Alan, I learned to not be overly impressed by a PhD.
From another 6-week dating friendship with Steven, I learned to be skeptical and not to believe too-early words of affection. From a 3-month romance with Jordan, I learned to not give away all my power by making another person responsible for my happiness.
After all these dead-end experiences, which spread over 8 months, I recognized that I didn’t want a new partner after all. I felt strong and happy on my own and enjoyed being autonomous, so I cultivated the friendships I already had.
One person said I was “blooming like a fresh tulip in spring” and others told me my new freedom was agreeing with me. Another stated, “Your wings had been clipped, the feathers have grown back, and now you can fly!”
Deciding that single men were complete jerks and not worth the trouble, I deleted my dating profile and ignored all men for almost a year. As a retiree living solo, I could now travel extravagantly and buy a new Audi without consulting a partner. I also learned to live alone without drinking a whole bottle of wine at one sitting. That takes practice.
Triggering Another Try
My cousin Chris came from Vancouver for 5 days to move his daughter home from Queen’s University and used my guest room. We ate breakfasts together, shared the driving to Kingston, and took evening strolls around my neighbourhood.
As we were saying goodbye, tears suddenly stung my eyes. What’s going on? For heaven’s sake, I’m not in love with my cousin!
Unexpected melancholy had engulfed my heart because I really missed male companionship. Forget sex and romance—it was the company of a compatible man that I missed. Women friends had seen me through my recent trauma with their unwavering support, but I wanted a romantic partner permanently in my life.
The innate difference between the sexes is refreshing to me. For those 5 days, my cousin and I had complemented each other perfectly. I wanted to find that again. There has to be someone out there for me, I thought. Toronto is a very big city.
I warily investigated Match.com. When composing my profile, I stated that my purpose was “to find a long-term relationship,” and wrote a brief history of my post-divorce life. I wanted to sound independent, active, and most definitely not needy. All of which was now true. I purposely selected a photo with my hair being blown around by the wind, to emphasize not taking myself too seriously.
I was feeling different than the first time I went online. Then, my heart had a gaping, painful hole. Longing to be distracted by a companion, I moved too quickly, met men too soon, and overlooked serious discrepancies in our values. My friends who first encouraged me to go online had no idea how it feels to be suddenly separated from one’s until-death-do-us-part spouse.
The adage that “Time heals all wounds” applied to me. I’d become a new woman.
A New Strategy
This time I felt whole and self-assured, so I invented a new strategy. I would meet 3 men within a week and call them Candidates #1, #2, #3. I wouldn’t agree to anything more than a coffee until I saw who was out there. My married friends thought I was being too candid about my process; I knew I was being mature and not playing games.
Candidate #1 was a widower named Eric. I liked him, but still had 2 other men to meet. He called me a couple of weeks after our coffee and I told him I was dating #2.
“But may I call you if it doesn’t work out?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said.
Seven weeks later I decided #2 was a dud, so I contacted Eric. We met for dinner right away and within weeks we’d fallen in love. Our lives had been remarkably parallel—both marriages had lasted over 41 years, and ended in 2009.
He was the 10th man I’d dated; I was the 26th woman he’d met since his wife’s death. If my soulmate and I hadn’t both been persistent and gone online yet again, we would never have met.
By complete coincidence, 3 years to the day after my ex and I signed our Separation Agreement, my dear Eric got down on one knee and proposed. After I squealed “Yes!” he slipped a diamond ring onto my finger.
We married in the Turks & Caicos surrounded only by our kids and grandkids. Everyone was barefoot on the beach.
* Names of men dated have been changed.