Short Timers

On a pure whim, I halfway signed onto a "singles over 50" website - the second half requires a relatively small financial investment which, although I can afford, I'm not inclined to make at this point - if a picture is worth a thousand words, the prospects are running in the dollar store category so far. Some would say it's a sad fact but the older and more set in my ways I become, the less I'm interested in coupling. I'm just not willing to do the work of navigating the perilous waters of blind dates and internet flirting and first face to face meetings.

Some lives are focused on goals and schedules and plans, carefully laid out checkpoints and timelines. Mine seems to have been focused on serendipity and accidental encounters - jobs and relationships and animals have presented themselves when I wasn't looking and I said yes or no on the spur of the moment. I pursued what intrigued me with little thought to the consequences and left the rest at the side of the road. One of the most valuable lessons I've learned is that there a hundred things worse, sadder, and more damaging than being alone. I don't feel cheated or left out or lost - if serendipity chooses to make an appearance, so be it, but I won't force her hand. We are all what Stephen King calls short timers in his novel, Insomnia (one of my favorites), and the clock is running too fast to waste time on what could, should, or might be. One of my favorite t shirts was given to me by my dear friend Tricia - it's philosophy is simple and direct - I don't wanna, I don't hafta, and I ain't gonna. Amen.

So, I say to myself, why in the world an "over 50 singles" site and the answer is a natural curiosity and the fact that sometimes serendipity knocks on the door so softly that it's hard to hear - I might not let her in but I wouldn't want her to think I wasn't home.

All things in their own time.