Thursday, December 16, 2010

A profile: 62, single, and in search of the 'right' woman

Jerry Joe Miller (not his real name) only occasionally guided paying fishing customers these days. He was too busy laying tile in older apartment complexes and romancing women to make time for a charter boat business that catered to over-weight, under-employed wealthy clients.
Besides, the fishing on Florida's upper west coast was no longer the run-and-gun catch-em in three second fun it had been 20 years ago before weather changes, over-fishing and warmer water-temperatures had messed things up. Miller was practical. Life was a continuing series of events that he mostly couldn't control...fishing, women...in that order. His survival strategy was to move on.
His rental apartment income and his tile business was keeping the bills paid, but at 62, he admitted, that he would really be interested in meeting a woman who he could "partner-up with," but who had her own financial resources. Not a wife, but a woman companion, he said, who would make him feel young and pay her own way.
Miller, who kept in shape with his work, had looked up and down the spectrum over the past five years. He'd tried out a lot of models, but at his age, it was beginning to dawn on him that going younger meant taking Cialis every night (just in case), but going older meant control issues around money, kids (his and hers) and who made the morning coffee. Miller liked his coffee black, no sugar.
On some days, he was doubtful that he could successfully live long-term with any woman.
His dog, "Sweetie," made up for a lot with her happy grin, wagging tail and compliant personality. Somebody... one of his woman friends... complained recently that his beach-front house smelled like "dog." Initially he was bothered by that but now that he'd thought about it, maybe he didn't care.
Lately, Miller had been making trips west to visit his sister, who lived with her boyfriend in Oregon. The trips were a good way to "get out of Dodge," as Miller liked to put it, see some new country and maybe meet that female companion who knew how to fish, fuck, and actually talk with him, not at him.
Like a lot of guys in the charter boat business, Miller was a talker. He'd talked about people he'd chartered for, trips he'd been on and about the women who had come and gone from his life....he talked about life before he found himself, 62, single...and in a weird sort of Florida way, lonely.