Last year, my daughter Elizabeth and I hosted a holiday dinner party. We had an eclectic group of about twenty at the Town & County Club in Hartford. During dinner, my friend Linda handed me an elaborately wrapped rectangular box. Smiling her feline smile, she wished me a Merry Christmas. I didn’t want to open it, but she insisted.  When I did, I was mortified. It was some sort of sex toy. It had a pink, fleshy color to it and it was shaped…well, you know. I slammed the lid shut.

“What is it, Mom?” called Elizabeth from the opposite end of the table.

Linda thought it was all too funny. I couldn’t respond out loud (plus I wasn’t sure what to say) so I passed it down the long banquet table. Everyone took a peek, including the servers at Town & County, who could never look at me straight faced again.

Elizabeth opened the box and everyone around her burst out laughing.

“Mine is purple,” her friend Angie announced.

As soon as I got home, I hid the thing in a drawer.  It would have stayed there forever had it not been for my dog, Cooper. His collar was equipped with a GPS tracker/pedometer. The manufacturer tracked and posted every dog’s daily steps and Cooper was at the bottom. That wouldn’t do. So, I charged up the thing and tied Cooper’s collar onto it. It vibrated all night and Cooper was #1 in no time. However, Elizabeth found out, accused me of cheating and insisted I stop.

What does this have to do with senior dating?  Well, a guy named Tim sent me a smiley face on Sexy Singles. I sent one back. We corresponded for a little while and then decided to meet. Not wanting him to come to my house, I told him to meet me at my office in Bloomfield. Cooper comes to work with me, so I suggested we take him to a nearby park where we could walk, get some exercise and talk.

Tim was very chatty as he, Cooper and I circled the park. He told me about his work, about his divorce, his daughters and grandchildren. It was going well until it all changed.

“I just want you to know I had prostate cancer,” he said. “I like to be upfront.” 

I was not sure why he segued into this subject. This was our first meeting. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

 “I had to have surgery,” he went on, as if I understood why he was telling me this. “But there are many ways to please a woman, and I assure you, I know them all.  Also, I’ve been told I’m a good kisser.”  He was smiling broadly, like he was proud of himself. He seemed very comfortable telling me all this. I was sure he’d had this conversation before.

Cooper had stopped walking in an attempt to eat some random poop. As gross as that was, I was glad I had that distraction.  

Tim continued, “I assume you have a rabbit.” 

“No,” I responded. “I have three cats and my dog, Cooper. Why do you ask?”

Tim’s expression changed. He seemed almost angry.  “Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” I replied, very surprised. “Why would I?”

Tim stopped, stared at me for a moment, then turned to leave. “I can’t believe you’d make a joke about this”

I was dumbfounded.  I didn’t respond because I didn’t know what he was talking about. I picked up Cooper and we left.

That evening, I called Elizabeth to tell her what happened. I couldn’t figure it out. She started laughing.

“Mom,” she said, “the thing that Linda gave you last Christmas—the thing you tied to Cooper’s collar….that’s called a rabbit. Didn’t you ever watch ‘Sex And The City’?”

I’d never watched that show. Apparently, that’s where the rabbit became famous. Suddenly Tim’s reaction made more sense—but not enough to make me interested in seeing him again. 

And that was the end of Date Number 2.

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