If you find yourself single in your senior years and are looking for companionship, what should you do?  

Loneliness can cause you to explore the singles world in different and sometimes daring ways. See how the story unfolds in . . .

Life Tributes

     We sat on my plush brown living room couch—three men staring off into space. Not a word was uttered. I don’t know what was going on in Herb’s or Godfrey’s mind. But my mind wandered in and out, wondering if I was meant to spend the rest of my life alone.

     I’d been married forty-six years when Sheila passed away suddenly one evening, as she sat in bed reading a novel by her favorite author, Karen Bridges. The cause of death—a heart attack. Twelve months have gone by since I found her with her head propped up against the headboard. The doctor said she went quickly—little or no pain.

     “Hey, Marv.” No response. “Earth to Marv.”

     “Huh, what do you want Godfrey?”

     “I thought we were going to do something this evening. Go out for a drink. Try to meet some women. It’s been more than two years since Stella left me. I think it's time.”

     “Me, too,” Herb mumbled. "Been a year and a half since Clara and I parted ways. We didn’t have much of a marriage for over seven years, but it still blew my mind when she told me she was leaving. But now it’s time to get on with my life.”

     “So, it seems we’re all in agreement,” Godfrey chanted.

     “Hey, not so fast. It’s only been a year since I lost Sheila, and I wasn’t prepared. Unlike you guys, I had a good marriage. It’s different.”

     “It may have been different when it happened, but it’s not any different now,” Herb spouted. "We’re all in the same boat—but alone. So unless you want to sit here moping around forever, I suggest we get our act together, put the past behind us, and move on with our lives.”

     “Let’s not jump into this. I think we need a plan,” I stated, with a slight spark of enthusiasm.

     “A plan? We’re not going to rob a bank. We’re just going to pick up some ladies. So choose a place and let’s go already. It’s almost nine o’clock. Women our age will be in bed soon . . . and not with us,” Godfrey emphasized.

     “You really think you’re going to wind up in bed with a lady this evening?” I quipped. “You’re seventy-six years old and you had a crappy marriage. When was the last time you had sex?”

     “You know, my friend, it’s none of your business. At least I know I still can get it up.”

     “Yeah, with a two-by-four as a prop,” Herb shouted.

     “Come on fellas, this line of reasoning isn’t getting us anywhere,” I said. “Maybe, rather than going out this evening, we should each put an ad in next week’s personals section of the Sacramento Bee.”

     “Are you serious, Marv? You do know that newspapers got rid of the personals section years ago. It’s all done by computer now,” Godfrey pointed out.

     I gaped at Godfrey with a weird expression on my face. It was painfully obvious to my two friends that I still lived in the dark ages with regard to modern communication. I looked at him and then at Herb. “No, I didn’t know. I had no reason to. However, I do know you can do it on the computer, but I had no clue newspapers have done away with personal ads. For God’s sake, that’s how Sheila and I met. And I’m not about to do it on the computer.”

     “You’ve got to get your head out of the sand, Marv,” Herb said, shaking his head in dismay at my reluctance to enter the computer age to find my perfect match. “Since it doesn’t seem we’re going anywhere tonight, I’m going to explore a fifty-five and over website they’ve been advertising on TV. What about you, Godfrey?”

     “Guess I’ll do that too—maybe.”

     Well, that was it for the evening. It was almost ten and we’d accomplished nothing. The guys dragged their aged, tired bodies over to the door. We said good-bye. I let them out and locked up for the night.

     I contemplated what might happen over the next two weeks, until our next Saturday evening get-together. Would Herb and Godfrey have the guts to visit the fifty-five and over website? And what about me? What would I do? Probably nothing.

     Tuesday morning I sat at the kitchen table thumbing through the Sac Bee. I still wasn’t convinced they no longer had a personals section. However, finding none, I started flipping back through the pages. And then it happened. A light bulb went on in my balding dome. I knew what I was going to do.

     Saturday evening of the following week arrived all too soon, but I believed I was ready to prove my point—that technology is not the greatest way to find your perfect match.

     The doorbell rang. I opened the door and saw Herb standing there with a smug look on his face. “You’re not going to believe what’s happened to me,“ he gushed.

     “Okay, let me have it.”

     “No, let’s wait until Godfrey gets here. I didn’t see his car. I want to share my new entrance into manhood with both of you at the same time.”

     “I guess I can live with that. Go sit down in the living room. There are snacks on the coffee table. Just leave some for Godfrey.”

     “If he gets here late and they’re all gone, that’s his problem,” Herb said, with a grin on his face.

     Before I could close the door, Godfrey appeared in the doorway, with a sheepish look on his face. “All right, tell me what’s on your mind.”

     “Is Herb here?”

     “Yeah.”

     “Good, I’ll tell you both together.”

     I closed the front door and guided him into the living room. We joined Herb on the couch—three men smirking at one another . . . closely guarding secrets they wished to unveil when the timing was right. Each man’s eyes moved to that of another, but nothing was said. And then . . .

     “My God! I can’t hold it in anymore,” Herb screamed. “I’ve got a girlfriend! Well, that isn’t entirely accurate."

     “Why isn’t it accurate?” Godfrey asked, somewhat dismayed.

     “Uh . . . because . . . actually . . . I have two girlfriends.”

     “In just two weeks. That’s unbelievable,” I stated.

     “I told you guys that fifty-five and over website was great.”

     “So who are they? Anybody I know?” Godfrey shouted.

     “I don’t think so. They’re Jenny and Claudine. Jenny’s a blond and Claudine’s a brunette.”

     “Okay, how old are they?” I asked.

     “You’re not going to believe me.”

     “Why not? Are they minors?” Godfrey and I said in unison.

     “Close,” Herb responded. “Claudine’s sixty.”

     “My God, you’re seventy-seven. She could be your daughter,” Godfrey stated, incredulous at the age difference.

     “Uh, Jenny’s only fifty-six,” Herb mumbled, somewhat afraid of what we might say.

     “Well good for you Herb. I’m proud of you.” Herb let out a sigh of relief. “And what about you, Godfrey? You said you had something to share.” A moment of silence came over the room.

     “Uh, well, I did visit the website. But I couldn’t get into it. Then, just when everything seemed hopeless, my daughter, Christy, called and asked if I’d go to church with her and her family last Sunday. I’m not big on church, but I told her I’d go. Turned out to be the best decision I ever made.

     “After the service, they served refreshments. One of Christy’s friends, Katie, brought her mother with her. Her name is Sarah. She’s my age, seventy-six, and we have so much in common. Neither of us is a great churchgoer. We’re both divorced and lonely. And we like old movies. We’ve seen each other three times this week. It’s really special.”

     “That’s great. I’m so happy for you, Godfrey,” I stated.

     “Yeah, congratulations, man. Make sure you invite us to the wedding. But give me some advance notice, so I have time to decide which date I’ll be bringing,” Herb laughed.

     Then they both stared at me. Their eyes cut through to my very core. “Why are you looking at me that way?” I inquired.

     “What are you waiting for?” Herb asked. “It is your turn.”

     I thought for a minute before speaking. This had to come out right. “Uh, I ran an ad in the newspaper.”

     “But they don’t have a personals section anymore,” Herb said, appearing somewhat confused. “Did you place the ad in the ‘Help Wanted’ section?”

     “Not quite, but close.”

     “What did it say?” Godfrey asked.

     “Well, this is what it said, ‘Sheila Gast, age 72, died one year ago. She was a loving wife and mother to Tommy Gast and Sharon Winston. Her husband, Marvin Gast, age 73, continues to miss her, but realizes he needs to move on with his life. Sheila would have wanted this for him. He knows others of you are in the same position, so please contact him, at 1-555-660-7923. He is anxious to meet a wonderful lady with whom to play cards, dance, go to shows, and travel.’”

     “That doesn’t belong in the ‘Helped Wanted’ section,” Herb said, a bit bewildered.

     “No, I placed it in the ‘Life Tributes’ section of the Bee.”

     “The obituary section!” Godfrey screamed. “How could you do that?”

     “Eight ladies have called me in the past two weeks. So I must have done something right.”

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