At 63, I had been divorced 19 years and settled into my independence and single living, and, as a middle school principal in San Francisco, had little time to socialize. Jerry, at 65, was 10 years divorced and looking to marry again. At their age, who was available? Men wanted younger women and that left women their own age left with few choices. I was resigned to single hood. I loved my freedom, independence, and finding my own voice, after a marriage where I had lost myself in another person.
Therefore, I was petrified when a friend approached the subject of meeting Jerry. When she talked to one of us it was like talking to the other. My monkey mind went spinning. What if I don't like him? How would I tell him? Worst yet, what if he didn't like me? Could I handle another rejection? It's easier to be alone. I like myself and living alone but------
I said yes, this chance may never come again. However, there was a stipulation, that Jerry did not come alone. That my friend and he come together. Jerry and I wouldn't have to be alone and, our friend would be a buffer to ensure moments of silence would be interjected with her conversation. They agreed.
My friend and Jerry live in Roseville so they were already at my house when I arrived, sweaty from my yoga class. I wasn't going to change my routine for this dinner. Dinner was at the Beach Chalet, where Jerry and I shared our dinners-I ordering seafood and Jerry steak. Our sharing the food was a sign, according to my friend that we were compatible. Of course, our friend disappeared into the bathroom for an hour, as the two of us talked about family, politics, life, and each other. When my friend came back to the table, she was ignored. We were immersed in each other's words.
However, no words were spoken at the end of the evening about an official date or even, how we felt about each other. I only knew that my heart was pounding and no words could relay my feelings. I hoped the same happened for him but the only words spoken were directions on how to leave the city and good byes.
For a week I debated in my head what to do. Call my friend or let it go, since neither had called me. I kept redoing the connectedness and depth of our conversation. My weekend calendar was filling up with commitments and, if I wanted to see Jerry again, I needed to call now.
Call I did. After 10 minutes of small talk, me waiting for my friend to give me a clue as to how he felt, I asked. "He is interested," she said casually but he was nervous and, like me silent, not knowing how I felt. While waiting all weekend, for him to call, he called Sunday evening and a real "date" was set, walking along Ocean Beach, sitting in front of the windmill garden in Golden Gate Park, and talking, talking, and talking. Each time Jerry left to go home to Roseville, he remarked that he always "left his heart in San Francisco." Many walks and talks later we are still together.
Life can begin again at 65. Two years later, Jerry retired from his job, moved to San Francisco, where we were married on July 11, 2010, after proposing at the same windmill garden where we sealed our love.