Desperate for a Dose of Your Sweet Lovin'

(NOW: You can read Dategirl every day on the Daily Weekly!)   Dear Dategirl, I've been a single parent since 1996, after my wife developed bipolar schizophrenia and started abusing our three (now grown-up) children. Her illness and abuse messed my kids up and screwed up my life too. I spent so much time working to pay the bills, cleaning the house, cooking, and taking care of everyone. Now I'm finally ready to date, but who wants a nearly 60-year-old guy? I'm fit, decent-looking, don't act my age, I love music, fun . . . where are all the nice ladies my age hiding? I don't go to bars, and my niece tried eHarmony, but they fixed her up with a weirdo, so I don't think I'm going to try that. My daughters can't figure out why I never remarried. I know they're worried about me, and I'm worried about me too. Will I really have to go it alone for the rest of my life? I have a lot to offer the right lady—I'm a great chef and I love almost everything except for ballet and opera, which make me want to puke. Any advice? I can take constructive criticism—I've read enough to trust your good judgment. —Old but Not Dead Being a single parent—especially when your co-parent is mentally ill—must be one of the toughest things on the planet, so high-five to you for handling it so gracefully. Now that you're ready, I have no doubt you'll find a nice woman to cook for and avoid opera with. You might think that being nearly 60 is a point against you, but in fact it gives you an amazing advantage, because men tend to croak long before women. So between death and divorce, there are scads of horny older broads running around—all desperate for a dose of your sweet lovin'. When my dad was your age, he started a widow-and-widowers group at his church. This might sound depressing, but the group was made up of him and about 15 widows. So not only did he get to feel like a hot-shit stud-monkey for a few months, he met the woman he eventually married there. Since your ex isn't dead, you can't go his route. But you get the idea: They're out there, and they're probably not sitting at your corner bar. First order of business: Spruce yourself up. Get a haircut. Then ask your daughters to be honest about your wardrobe—I'm betting there's room for improvement there. Regardless of their critique, buy yourself at least a week's worth of new underpants. This is non-negotiable, because you guys never know when that shit should be retired. Check yourself for stray ear cabbage, and make sure the nose hairs are in check. Go to the dentist and doctor for cleanings and checkups, scrub your house down, buy new bedding, and tell everyone you know that you're open to fix-ups. Then have one of your friends take some photos of you because you're going to give online dating a try. EHarmony is a joke. I know it works for some people, but unless you're religious and don't mind the fugs, I'd give it a pass. Plus, they were sued for discriminating against gays, so fuck 'em. They don't deserve your dough. Instead, look to one of the myriad other online dating sites. You can go the niche route (there's a site for just about any proclivity, interest, or religion you might be interested in), or go broad with someplace like OK Cupid or Match.com. Hell, I have a friend who has even had good experiences with Craigslist dudes, and I thought for sure that'd be date-rape central. Certainly, there are weirdoes out there. So what? Besides, I imagine your freak-o-meter is a finely tuned machine at this point, so weeding them out should be a breeze. Now get out there. dategirl@seattleweekly.com

 
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