I’d Rather We Talk about Rhubarb

Most women have coped with a lifetime of low self-images. Add a few decades and our bodies are no longer youthful. Waists have softened and disappeared into round bellies, deep blue veins map the years on our legs, skin turns to parchment and wrinkles around stretch lines regardless of the creams applied and, as Maya Angelou so wryly noted, (my breasts) are in an incredible race to see which one will touch my waist first.

It’s one thing to snuggle in bed with your partner and lover of 40 some years, the man or woman you’ve grown up with and whose body is as familiar as your own; it’s another to come to terms with the reality of your aging body viewed through the eyes of a new lover, no matter how strong the attraction.

Thank the goddesses that most senior men don’t care. Or else have very poor eyesight.

I feel for single senior men, many of whom have their own set of issues, typically starting and ending with performance. Many swear, online, that they have the body and stamina of a 40 year old, although they sure look their age to me.

Some change the topic from libido to Rhubarb. Others are more forthright and I admire them for their candor.

One such man visited my online profile, so of course I read his.  He had me with his opening paragraph. 

Age is better – I have been young, a fresh faced sprout, with agile legs, a muscled arm and smile to charm the world I went through in a rush to get a little older. Age erases pretense; replacing it with honesty.

His photo showcased a rugged man’s man, a weathered face tanned and lined with character, short grey beard, and piercing eyes focused on the horizon and his next adventure.

I fell in love.

Never mind that he lived 400 miles away, sailed seas and lived with local natives and iguanas in places not found on any goggle map while I like home, get seasick and think roughing it is a weekend at a three star hotel.

The online love fantasy lasted until a new first date shared that his goal was to travel the United States in his luxury RV and make love in every Walmart parking lot.

I stifled my laughter and choked, Walmart?

He leaned over the table towards me.  I met him halfway. 

There are 4,000 Walmarts and I figure that should last me til I die.

I stopped smirking and agreed that he had, indeed, a noble goal. Then, I looked him straight in the eye.


Not to worry, I’ve got it covered…I’ve invented this tongue exerciser and for just 29.95 in three easy payments…

Sometimes it’s so incredibly easy to fall in love over a cup of Starbucks.

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