I can say without reservation that one of the most exciting events in any over-55 community occurs when a single man moves in. The men on the block look at this happening as just another guy to borrow a ladder from, but the women view this as a challenge, and a major one at that.
It begins when the moving truck pulls up in front of the recently-sold house. Suddenly we women have gardening to do, windows needing to be washed, or are awaiting some important mail that requires at least several trips to the mailbox in one afternoon.
The types of furniture unloaded and taken into the house is the first and usually major indicator of marital status. Experience has taught us that leather sofas and chairs, especially those in solid black or gray, almost certainly spell single male, commonly referred to as The SM. The lack of candy dishes, flower arrangements, chintz throw pillows, ANY pillows, side tables, boxes labeled “holiday decorations,” or a Kitchen Aide stand mixer, well, we women already know what our mission is going to be.
After a reasonable amount of time has passed and our new neighbor has set up his garage and had the cable guy out, we begin to seriously assess the situation. This particular assessment is done on a scale from 1-5. I’ll explain.
If he scores a 1, he’s definitely a two casserole, rolls, salad, and dessert presented in a lovely, reusable decorative basket kind of guy. And hopefully that lovely basket will have magazines or a potted plant in it the next time we visit. And you can be sure this visit will be sooner rather than later. Oh, this poor man’s house desperately needs a woman’s touch. And we are here to see that he receives it, as we have many single female friends.
If he scores a 2, he’s a casserole and salad candidate. A score of 3 generally means a small soup, homemade or not, in a Lock-and-Lid throwaway plastic container. Any score below a 3, in my experience, maybe a Stouffers frozen entrée and a Fig Newton in a plastic bag.
After the initial pre-screening, we meet for coffee and cake in one of our homes. Each woman brings with her a notepad containing the names and numbers of her single girlfriends and a photo ID (his) if she was fortunate enough to unobtrusively snap a photo of The SM with her cell phone camera. The more experienced women usually tell the gentleman that the photo is for Facebook, which he may or may not be familiar with. It’s so exciting to introduce her new neighbor on her personal page, she tells him. CSI has nothing on us, believe me.
Our first foray into the world of matchmaking occurred when our neighbor “Peter,” who shall remain anonymous for purposes of this article, moved from a city condo to Edgewater. Peter has a larger-than-life personality, and my neighbor Sue and I immediately fell in love with him. Sensing from the get go that he needed our help, we set to work finding him a suitable match. Within a week, we learned of an available lady, and the date was arranged. Much like the parents of a pair of teenagers out on a first date, we positioned ourselves at the front window with the porch lights blazing, awaiting his return and full report.
Unfortunately, Peter had his own set of criteria (imagine that), and it didn’t match ours. He surprised and delighted us all when he met the lovely “Carole,” who shall also remain anonymous, whom he affectionately refers to as “That Blonde.” Sue and I remain convinced that it was our practice run that prepared Peter for an eventual good outcome!
Moving on to phase two requires a keen eye. For the more experienced women, this particular skill soon becomes second nature. Of course, as you might suspect at this juncture, the two most important questions remain to be addressed:
1. Can he still function? (Of course, this means in a romantic way.)
2. Can he drive at night?
These last criteria usually involve the more protracted conversation. Every woman has her take on this matter, and for many women (and men) over a certain age, well, let’s just say “it’s not over ‘til the fat lady sings.” After much conversation, speculation, and debate, the matter is settled. We decide, by vote, to pass his name, along with our findings, to our single women friends. It goes without saying that she must make her own determination as to the suitability of this gentleman. She must decide which of the final two questions are most important to her.
And while I do love to go out for dinner in the evening, as do many of my married and single women friends, “Thank heaven we can drive at night!”
3 Comments
You are very funny, Judi Tepe. I’m glad you are still writing.
Hilarious! USA Today’s Craig Wilson couldn’t have written it any better.
I did not take it as a reflection of how Edgewater women feel….but a work of fiction from a 1950s point of view.