Someone That You Used to Know

I signed up for a dating website.

I might have been a little high when I did it, and it went about as well as to be expected. I wrote a really funny (in my opinion) bio that made it pretty clear what kind of person I am, that I'm really into original, funny, creative, cynical types -- especially kinda Gothy ones -- and got a slew of identical "I really like your profile. Let's chat!" messages that were clearly generated by clicking the "suggested responses" when you like someone's bio.

Basically, not a creative, original, or funny response in the bunch.

It's weird being in your 50s and single. Especially with a dead partner. It's a whole different kind of baggage that you bring to a relationship. It didn't end because the love went away. I think that's the problem. It's been years and I still love them. It's hard to find someone new when I still want the person I had; I'm not looking for a different type.

And because I want the same type, no one will ever measure up. They will constantly be compared to the lost one.

So I'm only in my 50s. I look younger. Not like 20 years younger, but definitely not 50+. People occasionally ask me if I'm ever going to date again, or assume when I refer to something the partner and I did years ago that I still have a partner and the look I get when I tell them I've been widowed for 4 years is ... different. It's a mix of confusion, sorrow, and fear.

There's things that I wanted to do when I was younger that I won't now. Things that I used to do that I won't now. There are things that are still possible when you get older, but probably shouldn't be done alone. I think it would be a really bad idea to go wander off into the woods of a state park by myself. Or go camping by myself. Or travel by myself.

I'm diabetic and don't recognize the symptoms of very low glucose. I have a sensor that alerts me when I hit 50. I have no executive function and I get lost very easily. Not someone who should be alone in the world. Someone has to hold my leash and keep an eye on me.

And I've got at least another 30 years to go.

All there is to do is put on the VR glasses and hope for an early death.