Boom! And there she landed. Back in the land of the unmarrieds. The world of dating.
She’s 51. Damaged goods in many ways, but the packaging isn’t altogether unpleasant. She comes with baggage, but it’s colorful and fairly easily carried.
A neon sign reading ‘available’ floats over her head. It’s invisible to most women but bright as the sun to testosterone-fueled men who don’t immediately notice the creases, nicks, and scrapes she’s accumulated over the years. Her eyes are bright and her smile is engaging.
She loves their attention and reflects it back, making her more attractive. They try to buy her with drinks and compliments, but her price might be higher than they are prepared to pay.
The twenty-somethings think she might be fun for a while but she knows they’d be unsatisfying and would use her and toss her carelessly away like so many of their toys.
The thirty-somethings are more engaging. They ply her with their burgeoning intellects, thinking she can’t see through them, but they’re wrong. Her vision is quite clear.
The forty-somethings are more appealing. She finds them attractive - the graying hair, the tiny lines worn into their faces from years of smiling...
But the fifty-somethings… they know her favorite songs. They know her taste in wine. Their cleverly crafted words make her laugh. One of them might have what it takes. Time will tell.
She won’t be gotten easily. Not this time.
But oh, how she loves the bidding.
Going once. Going twice.
She’s still going.
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