By JULIA HUBBEL
It was bound to happen. After all that silly swooning over THAT GREAT GUY, someone was bound to spill the beans that his whitewashed, tear-worthy past wasn’t so tear-worthy. Is it surprising that The Golden Bachelor whom all those late-in-life lovelies were so eager to have, hold, and glom onto for their own wasn’t so golden?
Apparently, he could be quite the heel, if the article in The Hollywood Reporter is to be believed. They seem to have been able to identify a few women who have a different tale to tell about our tall, handsome man, and it ain’t pretty.
But then, do we truly honestly expect such perfection at 70-plus?
Is there any one of us who has made it to 50, 60, 70, or more without leaving a trail of tears, damage, misdeeds, and cringe-worthy behaviors in our past, no matter how distant? My hand is way up here. Of course, I did.
So first, shame on any of us for believing that a person gets to this age without their own personal sewage. While it’s fair to say some have more than others, nobody ages without showing up less-than-perfect.
Second, shame on any of us for wanting to believe it, for that sets us up for terrible disappointment as well as terribly unfair expectations of others.
You and I are way too old to want someone who hasn’t made a slew of mistakes … as long as they’ve chosen to learn from them.
Back to Mr. Golden Bachelor.
I’m not feeling gleeful that some reporter found dirty laundry. What is so disappointing is that we can’t embrace the inevitable yin/yang—the shadow side that leads to personal growth. This of course implies that we can’t accept it in ourselves. Or worse, we want said perfect person to come save us.
Online dating scams continue to be exceedingly successful because some part of us wants to believe that Mr. or Ms. Perfect exists. Loneliness is a huge motivator. So is wanting so badly to believe, as we certainly should, that great sex and deep intimacy don’t wither and die at 50.
I was a client as well as a student of online dating for the better part of 20 years. The single most common online scam aimed at me was a contrived profile from a “friend of a handsome lonely man who just lost his wife to colon cancer and was looking over my shoulder and fell in love with your photo and asked me to contact you for him.” That reeks of fake, but it worked.
The gorgeous, handsome, lonely widower. Mr. Golden is precisely that. While some of it is true, it so closely parallels the scams that it just didn’t sit well with me.
There’s another story about how The Golden Bachelor season ended—with the hurt feelings and losses experienced by the other gorgeous older women who had the hots for our Golden Boy.
Any of us who has dated after 50—and I dated well into my 60s until I just bloody well gave up the online dating ghost—can attest to the idiotic expectations that so many of us have. Most of which have no basis in reality.
Who we become as a result of our mistakes, wounds, scars, losses, and human idiocy is precisely what makes us good company. Again, if we are committed to growing from all those experiences.
Being dishonest about who we are sets everything up to fail.
Integrity seems to be in very low supply lately. Mr. Golden Bachelor, and all the folks who did the vetting and editing of his background to make him look perfect, are also out of integrity. I’m sure all the women were subjected to the same careful editing.
Put it this way: If we are going to believe that late-in-life love is available, and it most certainly is, then making a fake fairytale out of a guy who most definitely isn’t Mr. Perfect (nobody is, please) sets us all up for inevitable failure.
Part of what troubled me about the program was the expectation that the women all had to look like a well-aged Linda Evans, ever in a glittery gown, soft-focused, perfectly proportioned, beautiful, and svelte beyond reason even around 70.
This underscores a lot of messaging about what women must do to get the prize, rather than be the prize.
You could say precisely the same thing about the men. Gary the Golden Guy was handsome, slim, pretty much in shape and in all ways—what most guys his age probably are not.
For a great many of us of all shapes, sizes, gender preferences, and the like, I’ll bet we’d trade an uber-handsome, well-off cad for a slightly pudgier version of someone we could trust. Someone who was fearless about a mastectomy scar or had no qualms about a muffin top or any of the other inevitabilities of a long life and well-used body.
I’ll bet we would also trade off several otherwise perfect features for trust, authenticity, and the grace of someone who has also seen the worst of life. Someone who has the heart, kindness, and innate wisdom to appreciate character, humor, resilience, and the kind of warmth and wisdom that comes from loss, failure, and life’s flops.
Maturity allows us the courage to disclose what needs saying. If the potential partner can’t handle it, they aren’t the right partner.
For what it’s worth, part of the great grace of getting older is getting wiser. Age conveys age, wisdom is earned. I didn’t get the impression that the program The Golden Bachelor was particularly wise.
Instead, the program preyed on too many hopes and dreams which, for those of the rest of us who have learned a thing or two, are best viewed through slightly more thoughtful, and often thicker, lenses.
There’s always a chance for late-in-life love. I no longer believe in online dating, but I most definitely believe that I might discover terrific company while hiking, biking, walking, riding, and all the things I love to do.
Let’s stop swiping left while looking for what doesn’t exist: Mr. or Ms. Perfect. Doing so swipes our chance to meet someone who is great company at a time when we really do need it.
Here’s to the casual meet-cute (maybe) or meet-clumsy (me, probably) that leads to a more realistic and lasting connection devoid of patently unfair and disastrous expectations.
In other words, Mr. or Ms. Perfect for us, right now, as we really and truly are.
Julia Hubbel is a prizewinning journalist and author of two books. An adventure traveler, she thrives on exploring the boundaries of the heart, soul, spirit, and humor. Horizons beckon for Julia, who launched her passion to take on challenging sports in the world’s greatest places in earnest at age 60.
Read More about Love in Late Life: