Sex and the 60 – The Petite Case of the Munchkin

I had a marriage proposal this week. Yes – 3 dates and 1 proposal. I think that qualifies as a busy week. Actually I think it kicked me back into the swing of things. You know how depressing things have been for the last few weeks….but now, fresh chum for the dating waters. I’m back swimming with purpose.

So, let me tell you about this marriage proposal. You know in the old days you had to get pregnant to get them to marry you. Boy are these the same guys we chased when we were in our 20’s and 30’s? What happened to them? Were they eradiated and lost their “single” gene? Or did we women do such a great job of taking care of them that they are finally admitting that they can’t live without us? It is a little weird. And speaking of little, that is a great segue into this week’s marriage proposal – the Petite Case of the Munchkin.

It started with a simple email telling me that he wanted to make me laugh uncontrollably. Many prospects write about their ability to make me laugh because in my profile I say that there is nothing sexier than a funny man. Hmmm, perhaps it needs a rewrite. I would like to laugh with someone, not at them (Oh, she is so superior!!!). But, I need to be open and willing to review all opportunities – at least that is what the Tarot cards say. So I read his profile and found a bit of humor, some serious background – a retired state government worker, a few marriages and a few kids, nothing unpleasant here. Pictures show an average guy, not scary (and believe me there are many scary pictures out there). And so, having a slow couple of weeks and always looking for blog inspiration I plunged ahead. A voice conversation proved to be a bit boring, but he offered up one of my favorite restaurants for a dinner date – Villa Barone in Robbinsville, NJ http://www.villabaronerestaurant.com/home.html, so what the hey. Only then did I remember to look at his height.

Well, as Roseanne Roseannadanna used to say “it’s always something”. He listed himself at 5’7”. We know what that means – more likely 5’5” and under those circumstances I would wear a pair of 2 ½” heels (making me nearly 5’9”). Let’s see what kind of man he is – can he take it?  As I pulled up to the restaurant I spied the Munchkin - short, fat and balding – think Danny Devito, but without the hilarious personality. Like an Amazon I strode toward him, tempted to kiss him on the head but at the last minute shook his hand instead. Once seated and engaged in dinner I found him to be a nice, mildly amusing guy who knew what he looked like but had the confidence of a man with a full head of hair and a strapping and toned 6’ 2” physique.

It was over coffee that he began his pitch. He started slow. First the compliments – I was beautiful, smart, and funny and probably could get any guy I wanted. (Hear that Chris Noth? John Corbett?). With me softened up he quietly explained that he had three ex-wives all of whom had borne him children - read: age has not decreased my prowess. He spoke of his pension and how none of the wives had yet to win a dime of it. Now that sounded like a challenge to me and I began to take note and quickly asked if he had any food allergies that I should be “concerned” about. Then he came in for the kill --- Health Insurance. He said he had a full portfolio of insurance – health, dental, vision with low deductibles and prescription drug coverage! His voice began to have a magnetic effect…like a Cobra charmer. He lilted on about the lack of a maximum lifetime payout, the low out-of-pocket, the 250 day mental health and substance abuse treatment, and a unique surgical package that might allow for cosmetic surgery. I found myself spellbound, leaning in towards him, staring into his eyes and considering whether to have my eyes done when I had my neck done… and what about perking things up a little – you know what gravity has ravaged….Hey, wait a minute. I snapped out of it. “You know”, I said, “You are a state of New Jersey retiree and my taxes are paying for that insurance for you!” “Yes”, he replied, “but marrying me entitles you to a REBATE.” I shut up. He made a lot of sense.

He settled the tab and self-assuredly stood on his tip toes to help me into my coat. Taking hold of my shoulders he whispered into my ear breathlessly, “Think about it beautiful”. “I can take care of you. Be my number four.”

It took all day to break the spell.

President Obama, get that health care reform done pronto or it will be your fault I rush into a loveless marriage, destined for divorce court and the battle of the ages for that damn pension payout! But wait, I will definitely come out of it looking like a younger Sophia Loren….Hmmmmm – Almond shaped eyes…yes, no, yes, no yes?…