Not Ready, or Never Surrender
I wasn’t ready. I didn’t matter that I was closer to 60 than 16, closer to the grave than the cradle. That I had had lovers in the double-digits from multiple continents. That I had decades of dating and relationship experience under my belt, literally and figuratively. I wasn’t ready. Yes, a part of me wanted to. It had been what seemed like ages since I felt anything below the belt for anyone. On paper he seemed like a perfect catch and a great match: Age appropriate, in his mid-50’s. Divorced 5 years. Attorney with an on-line firm, with a flexible freelancer’s schedule like mine. Smart and interesting. Francophone and francophile. Tall. Not next door, but geographically accessible via public and private transportation. Yes, this felt like an auspicious coupling, full of potential. We had met a month prior, been on several successful dates. It was a beautiful and balmy Indian summer night. T...