I read this with some humor. At 66, I’ve got 19 years on you. Put yourself in my place, m’dear. I am finding it fucking impossible, if for no other reason that I prefer very athletic men who have their own money, a sense of humor, like strong women, aren’t intimidated by a badass, and who are sexually attractive to me. Read: I don’t date men who aren’t serious athletes. That just knocked out the vast majority of men who are even within fifteen years of my age.

Part of me wishes I were younger, but I wouldn’t for one minute trade the road rash I’ve gained in those years for company. I wouldn’t trade the wrinkles I’ve earned doing international adventure travel, dodging sharks, surviving busted parachutes, climbing huge mountains, all after 60. Not on your life. Is there love after sixty? Yeah. Perhaps. But it’s not likely to look like love earlier in life.

The biggest love affair you and I have, Jill, is with life itself. After that, anything else is just gravy. As I said in this article https://psiloveyou.xyz/put-on-your-big-girl-panties-and-get-over-it-5b6fd1e09114: If I wholeheartedly choose to believe that I am worthless as a human being unless I am adored by some man, then shit, I might as well pull the plug right now, given my dating history.

Fall in love with life. Get busy doing what gives you joy. That’s the magnet. I seriously, seriously doubt anyone I’m attracted to online is going to give me the time of day simply because of my age. That tells me to spend the time I’d be right-swiping being out doing what I love. Should I stumble on a hunka hunka burnin,’ and it’s happened before, well so be it.

Horizon Huntress, prize-winning author, adventure traveler, boundary-pusher, wilder, veteran, aging vibrantly. I own my sh*t. Let’s play!

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