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I remember pulling the peddles off of roses or daisies when I was a teen, and saying, with each yank, he loves me…he loves me not, and then hoping deeply that the last peddle would be, he loves me! And when it landed on He loves me not, I would grab another flower and start the game over again.

I wanted so badly that the little wish would land on He loves me! I genuinely believed in this game; I believed that it had power, and poured loads of faith into it as if it was some sort of magical practice and it would produce that romance that I was after. How naive we are when young!

It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship, and even longer since I last played that silly game! And lately, I’ve been entertaining thoughts, of dating and getting involved in a relationship. Except that I am also much older now and many things have changed since my younger years. It isn’t only a different world today, in terms of relationships and the weird expectations that society has developed around these unions. But also, that, at age 57, I’m different now too and prefer to reserve those changes, lest I die from mortification.

Gravity has long been doing its work for me, on my jowls, and my boobs and buttocks, and on my arms and thighs too, all of which remind me of dangling earlobes, anymore! Then there’s that whole Sleep Apnea thing going on and that I snore now; it even wakes myself up because the snoring is so gruff!

Not to mention the whole other thing that’s been happening to me, at any given hour, and that it’s loud, smelly, and occurs while I’m walking and least expect it to burst forth and odorize the environment! How embarrassing is that!

No one, in a new relationship, wants to encounter those turn-offs! At least, I’m understanding and forgiving of men’s pop-bellies, burps, farting, and snoring; we’re all human, no? But I don’t easily believe that men would be as accepting of my similarities, when around us are so many younger women with her stuff still intact!

Then there’s also the huge “freedom and independence” factor and that I’ve grown very attached to mine! I no longer wish to play the traditional housewife: cooking, serving, and washing the dirty underpants of a man or entertaining his boredom with life. I don’t want to be a man’s teacher nor cater to his every whim. I am not his mother.

Oh, my, but where would that lead me, since nature takes its course, regardless of our vaingloriousness! And that I really would like a companion, but can’t hide my flaws or have it both ways!

His package, bearing no baggage, has to reflect mine or better. But does such a perfect man even exist? I believe he does!

In my situation, and until then, his name is God, he’s handsome, and he loves me!

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