Today’s blog is from fellow writer, Lynn Goodwin. We met in an online class and have developed an easy-going exchange of words and ideas. She is someone who continues to find purpose and meaning in what she does and touches many with her words and ever-open heart. You will find more information about Lynn at the end of the blog.
When the classy white-haired woman in the TV ad says, “I know people meet online, but where would I even begin?” I want to tell her my story. I never expected to get married, for the first time no less, at age 62. I met the man who would become my husband on Craigslist. Ten years ago, he posted an ad that read:
- 1944 classic roadster with many miles left!
- Motor hums, transmission smooth and all the gears work!
- Only two previous owners, very great women.
- Two-tone, white with a gray top.
- Seeking a new woman owner who knows how to drive a classic!
- PS: This car is at church every Sunday so if that is a problem with you this car is not for you.
The Early Days
For the first 61 years of my life I did not have good luck with relationships. Instead of a marriage I had a career in education, followed by a stint of “Mom Care.” I let others convince me that if I wanted to date I needed to diet first, and since I couldn’t get my weight low enough, I considered myself unworthy of male attention. What was really wrong with me?
After reading this man’s unique ad, I clicked on “Reply” and said:
- Love your ad.
- I suppose I’d be a 1949 classic roadster.
- Motor hums unless it hesitates. Transmission and gears probably need a road test.
- Original owner.
- Two-tone, white with a reddish brown top.
- This classic roadster could be parked next to yours on Sunday.
- Our roads aren’t perfectly parallel. Might make life interesting. If anything piques your interest, feel free to write back.
He did. He was flattering and attentive. Years earlier I’d taught an acting class with the slogan, “Take a risk: Meet the characters inside yourself.” Was there a wife inside of me, waiting to be recognized?
The First Date
At the end of our first date, he left abruptly, without kissing me, and I turned to my Shih-Tzu and asked, “What did I do wrong?” Then I remembered my steak was in the back of his Mazda, and even though I figured he was gone, I went out to try to claim it. He was sitting in his convertible, and was about to light a cigarette, but he held off while we chatted. That Saturday, we drove up the coast and kissed by an iron fence above the crashing waves. I trusted my instincts and sustained the relationship. Apparently, it’s never too late. In less than eight months we were married.
One of the biggest reactions I’ve gotten to my memoir, Never Too Late: From Wannabe to Wife at 62, is disbelief. “Why would you wait until you’re 62 and then get married?” strangers at readings and book fairs would ask.
I’d been busy.
I’d been disinterested.
I’d never met the right man before.
I wanted to find out what I’d been missing, and when the future Mr. Husby lavished attention on me, I wondered if he was offering me one last chance to learn about married life.
The Rest of My Life
He was more open and understanding than any man I’d ever met and told me, “I refuse to grow up, get old, or retire.” Ten years later, he has the same philosophy. We’re aging, admittedly, but as much as we can we’re doing it on our own terms and pursuing our vocations and avocations one day at a time. I made the right choice and my life wouldn’t be the same without him.