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—The Whole Story

 

     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.”

     “That’s amazing, Marv. But it’s still not as good as the dating website,” Herb stated.

     “How did you come to that conclusion? My ad in the ‘Life Tributes’ section got me eight replies to your two. That proves that the ‘tried-and- true’ is still the best.”

     “Man, you’re missing the point, Marv. I’ve already gone on four dates, with two different women, and Godfrey’s accidental meeting of a lady at church got him a real woman—not just a bunch of names.”

     “Accidental?” Godfrey yelled. “”Meant to be’ is the better term.”

     “All right, ‘meant to be,’” Herb said. “But you’ve got nothing Marv. For all you know your ladies are playing you.”

     “You know, I’ve had it with you, Herb. I’ve got a proposition for both you guys. One month from today, you are cordially invited to a Saturday night social gathering at my house—a date required. And Herb, that means . . . one woman.”

     “Why not my two?” Herb asked, somewhat forlorn.

     “You heard me—one! All in favor say, ‘Aye.’”

     “Aye,” Godfrey said.

     “And you, Herb?”

     “All right, ‘Aye.’”

     “See you in a month, my friends, dressed to the nines, with a beautiful woman on your arm, for a great Saturday evening affair.” I showed them out and went into the kitchen and sat down at the table and just stared off into space.

     “Okay, what do I do now?” I murmured. I have to make a decision as to which of the eight women who responded to my “Life Tribute” should be my date. When they replied, I asked each of them a series of questions I’d prepared in anticipation of the call I might receive. But after that, I didn’t call any of them back.

     I pulled out my notebook where I’d made notes on each lady—their age, interests, family background, employment history, etc. “God! I thought, I must have bored them to death, with my inquiry. Maybe that’s why all but one, Julie, asked me any questions.

     I grabbed the phone off the table and dialed her number. It seemed like it rang forever. And then . . .

     “Hello.”

     “Julie, this is Marv—the guy whose ‘Life Tribute’ in the Bee you responded to.”

     “Hi, Marv. I was hoping you’d call.”

     “You were?”

     “Yes.”

     “Why?”

     “Because I wanted put you through the same agony you put me through.”

     “Agony?”

     “You asked me so many questions, you drove me crazy. I almost hung up on you.”

     “Why didn’t you?”

     “In all honesty, you sounded just like me. I would have done the same thing.”

     “Then can I ask you one more question?”

     “All right, ask away.”

     “Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night? Or is that too soon?”

     “No, it’s not too soon. And I’d be honored to go out with you.”

     “Great!”

     “You can pick me up at my house at six. You already have my address.”

     “I do?”
      “Yes. “That was one of your questions.”

     “See you tomorrow evening, Julie. Bye.”

     The next night I pulled up to Julie’s house, promptly at six. She was standing outside. She looked amazing—perfect in every way. Before I could exit the car, she came down the driveway and opened the front passenger side door.

     “You must be Marv, my Uber driver,” she sung out.

     “Yes, I am. And where may I take you, ma’am?”

     “To the most exclusive restaurant in town.”

     “ Yes, ma’am. Please get in.”

     To my surprise, she closed the door. Then and she opened the back door and slid into the seat. “Why didn’t you just get into the front seat?” I queried.

     “I never sit next to the hired help,” she said, chuckling.

     The drive was short and no words were exchanged. We pulled up in front of the Roadhouse. “Will this do?” I asked.

     “I’m hungry, so I guess it will have to.”

     “We can go someplace else if you want?”

     “No, the place I’m thinking of is too far away.”

     “Where?” I asked.

     “Another question? Paris, if you must know.”

     “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

     “If you have to ask, then this date is over.”

     “Do you want it to be?” I inquired.

     “Maybe after we eat. This place’s food is too good. I’m not turning down a free meal.”

     The meal was excellent and I enjoyed Julie’s company. We had a lot in common.

     “When we talked on the phone, you said you liked playing . . .”

     “Cards, yes—pinochle, in particular.”

     “And watching . . .”

     “Movies. I love comedies. As you know, laughter is the best medicine. But it’s addictive, and I’m addicted.”

     “You also . . .”        

     “Said I enjoyed dancing and traveling.”

     “Aren’t you going to let me finish one . . .”

     “Sentence? I guess you have your answer.”

     Well, even with her finishing my sentences, the date was wonderful. She was beautiful, bright, and witty. I couldn’t ask for more. My heart beat in anticipation of my Saturday social event with the guys and their dates.

     I tried to get to sleep, but I couldn’t get my mind off the evening. The next morning I called Julie.

     “Hello.”

     “Hi, Julie. It’s me, Marv.”

     “Marv, I can’t talk now. I’m on another call. I’ll call you back in a little while.”

     “Okay. Speak to you soon, Julie. Bye.”

     “Sarah, I’m back. That was Marv—the man of my dreams. Told him I’d talk to him later.”

     “I’m so happy for you, Julie. I’m glad things are going as planned.”

     “Yes, Sarah, the set-up is going so well. The evening was amazing and I was in control.”

     “That’s the way we women have to do it. I landed Godfrey that way. His daughter, Christy, arranged for her dad and me to meet at church, without him knowing—another set-up. It wasn’t long before I knew he was the one for me.”

     “That’s so sweet, Sarah. When did I become a part of this plan?”

     “On our third date, Godfrey told me he had a friend who needed to get back into the dating scene and he asked me for my help. He knew I had lots of women in my social circle and thought I could assist. I agreed. And you were my first choice, since you told me you’d been looking for the right man for a while.”

     “You’re the best Sarah. But how did Godfrey know Marv would create an obituary—a weird way to find a woman.”

     “From the conversation with Marv and another friend, Herb, about the dating scene, he had a gut feeling Marv would try to place an ad in the paper, since that’s what he did to meet his first wife. However, he had no idea which section it would be in.

     “So how did he find out?”

     “He didn’t, until much later.”

     “I’m confused,” Sarah.

     “Bear with me. Godfrey has a friend whose son edits the Bee’s classified, help wanted, and obituary sections of the paper—probably Marv’s only choices. His buddy asked his son to keep an eye out for Marv’s submission, which he did.

     “All right. Then what?”

     “When Marv contacted the Bee, it was Godfrey’s friend who helped him edit and create the perfect obituary piece.”

     “That’s amazing, Sarah. But why that section?”

     “I guess it was the best fit.”

     “Wow!”

     “When Godfrey’s friend called him to let him know it was done and where it would appear in the paper, he called me. Then I contacted seven of my lady friends, all of whom are happily married, and asked them to do me a favor—respond to Marv’s request in the obituary when it appeared, but keep their conversations brief.”

     “Interesting ploy.”

     “After that, I called you, my single gal pal in need of love, and told you about the obituary and strongly suggested you give Marv a call, which I believed you would. And I knew you wouldn’t keep it short.

     “You’re so clever.”

     “Well thank you. . . . After Marv told Godfrey and Herb about the eight women he’d spoken with, they gave him a hard time about whose method of meeting women was the best. This pushed him to set up a bring a date social gathering at his home to prove his was, even though he didn’t know who he’d be bringing. But since you were the only one who’d made an effort to answer his questions, I was certain you’d be the one he’d call.”

     “Then I guess I need to be Marv’s date and convince the guys he was right. Adios, my friend, I have to call Marv back.” I dialed his number and . . .

     “Hello.”

     “Hi, Marv.”

     “Julie, I wanted to ask you . . .”

     “If I’d be your . . .”

     “Date for my party . . .”

     “To convince . . .”

     “Godfrey and Herb my way . . .”

     “To get the girl . . .”

     “Is the best, and . . .”

     “Yes, I will . . .

     “Be my . . .”

     “Wife!”

     “What?!!!”

 

 

Copyright © 2023 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.