Well, what can I say? Just a few weeks ago, I was quite convinced that my sex drive had gone on a Victorian tour of Europe and had settled down somewhere in a bohemian hotel in Marrakech, having decided never to return. Then I went on a date with a handsome, dark stranger that I met off of Craigslist (yes, really!) that turned into a frenzied and passionate few hours in bed, reminding me of what I’d been missing. I’m not sure which Suzanne I prefer – the one with no libido or the one with the ravenous sexual appetite. Life being what it is – busy, unpredictable and full of surprises, we have not seen each other again. I am not tremendously bothered. As Doris Day once sang, ‘Que sera, sera.’
Amongst many of the advantages of age (and don’t let anyone tell you there aren’t any) is that I’m not pining or doing the weird, creepy, stalky stuff I used to do in my twenties. I haven’t just ‘happened’ to have passed by his flat, hoping he might be staring out the window and spot me. I’m perfectly prepared for the fact that our one encounter may have been just that – a very satisfying one night stand that got me back in the saddle.
In the meantime, my enthusiasm for craigslist has waned. I may have lucked out with Mr. Dark and Handsome but my one other date was a non-starter. Despite him revealing his Dom side (never a bad thing) and sending me a pic of his toy collection (a strap on, flogger, paddle and crop), I was not impressed when he then followed it up with the naked picture. I may come off sounding like a prude but gone are the days when I want to see a picture of a middle-aged, naked man, standing in front of his bathroom mirror, before we’ve exchanged bodily fluids.
While my own boys, now both in their twenties, have received their fair share of late night, drunken texts (millennials don’t seem to do the naked pic thing like baby boomers), even they have worked out that retaining an air of mystery is part of the game. It’s undignified and a little desperate when a fifty-something woman feels the need to send a naked pic of her not-quite-so-perky breasts to a fifty-something man, never mind the other way around. I prefer undressing in real rather than virtual life. It’s harder for either party to run away when you’ve both committed to getting naked in front of each other.
I’ve now deleted myself off Craigslist and moved onto another, free site to see whether Mr. Right for Now might be lurking there. So far, there seem to be disproportionately more single men that live in Bromley than the rest of the UK. It is not a place to which I would like to visit.
I’ve also decided that there’s no point beating around the bush. If I do want someone with whom to share life’s experiences or even just a glass of wine on a fairly regular basis (which would be good enough for now), I need to let as many people as possible know. And I mean everyone – from my hairdresser to the woman who stamps my post to my friends and casual acquaintances. I’ve seen friends rely on the digital world to deliver a partner and waste hours or even years of their life. Surely amongst my five hundred or so Facebook friends there has to be one who knows someone with whom I might be compatible.
So, there you have it. It has been three weeks since my quest began and I’ve had two dates, one shag and written about 85 emails (most no longer than a sentence or two). It’s still very early days and I’m still hopeful. Stay tuned for the next installment…