Equal Opportunity Mail Order
Crin wrote, “Look at the nice young
man you can get online these days.” A photo accompanied her note.
Ah, Crinny, it’s been done. Mail
order was quite a popular movement back in the late 1800’s, after the Civil
War, when settlers began homesteading the great western reaches of the country.
The men sent off ads for brides.
Generally, I understand, once the
package arrived, usually by train, parties on both sides of the fence were in
for an unpleasant surprise, as the promised goods were often misrepresented.
Even with so-called gender equality, do you really think there is anything new,
as has been said, under the sun?
The young man in Crin’s photo looked
to be about twenty-four. Slim, dark hair, sparkling eyes. I will leave it to
your fertile imaginations to fill in details to complete the picture. Before
you get too excited, I caution you to remember even a buffalo can be
photo-shopped to look handsome.
Crin, my friend, have you lost your
last wing-nut? What are you thinking? Do you realize the risks? Has this site
been vetted by Amazon? Does he come with a money-back guarantee if you are not
satisfied? What if he sent his grandson’s photo and arrives with no teeth, no
hair, with a box of adult Pampers under his arm?
Have you, dear woman, considered the
fifty-year age spread? What will you talk about? Will he give you a blank stare
if you mention The Beatles? His grandfather was a child when Jack was downed in
Dallas. He will think the “Moonwalk” an antiquated dance form, if he thinks at
all. When you want to play Canasta, he
will want to play Minecraft.
Dear friend, there are other ways to
meet men if you want another man in your life. You might hang out at the Senior
Center, the library, or the hardware store. Church. The checkout line in the
grocery store. I don’t care that dating
online is the new normal. Shudder.
You have a valid point that of our
age range, there are twenty women like vultures eye-balling the lone available
man. So why not shop the younger set. Okay. A little younger.
What? Yes, that is true. Men of a
certain age accompany, even marry, twenty-five year-old women with great
frequency. You query me as to my bias. I
blush. When you put it that way, I have to confess to a certain
uncomfortableness with my antiquated thinking. I hardly blink anymore when I
see that particular December/May pairing. I am guilty of holding a double standard.
You are right, of course, and I am wrong. Turn-about is fair
play. The longer I think about it, perhaps I can even admit that an older woman
with a younger man should be equally acceptable and makes good sense.
And, after all, in my own life, my
young gardener takes me to town for shopping, gives me his arm when crossing
the uneven cobblestone streets, when climbing the high curbs. He carries my
bagged purchases for me. He treats me with great respect and consideration. But
. . . he does the same jobs for you, for Carol, for Nancie, for Lani, for Jim,
for John.
I give up. I am wrong. You are
right. Our young men can stand on ladders, clean the fans, change light bulbs,
clean the rain gutters, and do any manner of disagreeable jobs we no longer can
or care to do. In later years, they might push our wheel chairs.
But I don’t care. I still can’t wrap
my mind around it. Not a span of fifty years difference in age! Old fool that I
am, if I were looking, I’d choose fat, sags and wrinkles, missing teeth, a
pacemaker and a sense of humor rather than a buff youngster who’d remind me of
my grandson.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
November 8,
2018
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