Last Valentine’s Day, I read an essay in The Seattle Weekly by Marilyn Meyer, a friend of mine who had raised a family in Seattle the same years I had and who, having survived remarriage and divorce a time more than I, was single again.  Dating was getting harder as she got older, and at some point, although she was a veteran personal ad writer and responder and had used online services and the blind dates friends arranged, she was on the verge of deciding to give up dating in the Seattle area.

When The Seattle Weekly announced it was going to feature a collection of articles on niche dating–computer nerds, Scrabble fanatics, committed bowlers, the over two -hundred pound set and more — in honor of Valentine’s Day, an assistant editor approached Marilyn, who had published with the paper before.  She was dating Marilyn’s son and recalled numerous stories she had heard from him about “my mom’s men.”

Marilyn said, “She emailed asking me if I were interested in writing about my particular niche –Jewish men over fifty. The paucity of eligible Jewish males in the Seattle area had been the perpetual subject of conversation amongst my peers for years.  Typically a search through the online Jewish dating service JDate for Jewish men within 25 miles of my zip code would land 3-5, none of whom were appealing.   Two summers ago a similar search for Jewish men aged 50-55 within 25 miles of my hometown Detroit suburb netted over 100. ”

“I really had fun writing the original piece. It was quite a bit more detailed, 1600 words rather than the 850 words the newspaper ran.  It took more than five revisions to get it down to that number of words. ”

“The writing was cathartic. I had just ended a relationship, and I was seriously considering moving back to Michigan to care for my mother.”

Well, a lot happened after the article went to press, and this Valentine’s Day, Marilyn will celebrate almost a year in a lovely relationship.  Marilyn said what she had to say and among all of those who read and enjoyed the article, one special man was listening.

Here’s the article:

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Dating by the Numbers: Jewish and Over 50 in Seattle
by Marilyn Meyer

Bagels and baba ghanoush may have become ubiquitous in Seattle, but not Jews. Practicing Jews are 2 percent or less of the Seattle area population. We’re a niche within a niche within a niche. If you’re a woman seeking a college- educated Jewish man between 50 and 60, not fat, not stupid, not married, not never married, not gay, not relationship-phobic, who’s reasonably fit, well educated, and funny, there are only 10 left. Three of them are dating friends of mine. Four I have dated previously. The other three are listed with Match.com.

My potential matches don’t have to be practicing Jews; they just have to be comfortable that I am. The codes on Match.com are “Jewish” or “spiritual but not religious.” There’s also Jdate.com. Last summer, while I was visiting Detroit, I took the bait (“all you can read, but not contact”) and found 120 eligible Jewish men within 25 miles. Enthused, I paid my 50 bucks for two months, came home, punched in Seattle, and came up with three (probably the same three).

 When friends and relatives ask, “Where did you two meet?” I wonder why they bother. They know the answer: online. And all the guys I’ve dated have come from outside of my normal stomping grounds: Gig Harbor, not Westlake; Olympia, not Ravenna; Auburn, not Wallingford.

Regardless of how we meet, Jewish or not, I have found three categories of men over 50: (1) not yet ready, (2) never will be ready, and (3) not my type. Included in this first group are the not-quite-divorced, the still-grieving widower, and the still-angry ex-spouse. They make the best potential matches, but connecting with one is like choosing the right string of lottery numbers. Even the nice guys need time to stew in their anger, to grieve their losses (including that four-bedroom house in Laurelhurst), and to learn how to wash their own dishes. Doctors, journalists, businessmen, or lawyers, they may still have their hair and know how to find the right spots in your neck to massage, but they’re just not ready. Yet. Their average window of availability is about 10 days, so you have to be prepared to pounce before someone else does. I’ve had several near misses. These are the heartbreaks.

The second category is self-explanatory. The third category always looks good on paper, but something’s not right. Key questions here are “Would you really enjoy his company for the next 40 years?” and “What would you talk about at the assisted-living facility besides constipation?” They tend to be wealthy and retired; they buy your sons 100-level Sonics tickets and bring good wine to Friday night Shabbat dinners. They also may expect total old-school commitment from a woman: no secrets, no private places within her soul, and no free time away from him on weekends.

All of which is why I wanted to throw popcorn at the screen at the end of Something’s Gotta Give. Diane Keaton’s character gives up a gorgeous doctor 20 years her junior, a man who worships her writing and doesn’t even have a potbelly, for an aging Hugh Hefner type? I would sacrifice my only son to marry Keanu Reeves. What focus group, median age under 30, no doubt thought that Nicholson would really stay with Keaton for the long run? And for how long?

I’ll give you a final number: SIX MONTHS. Maybe that’s why I’ve let my Match.com and Jdate.com accounts expire. I know that good men are out there; they’re just not out here. There’s always my 40th high-school reunion coming up this summer back in Detroit.

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After her essay appeared in print, Marilyn reported that she “received a couple of phone calls from ex-boyfriends and several accolades from women acquaintances.”  She enjoyed the contact.  Then, she got a letter from Tom, “who wrote that he felt he met my criteria”:

Dear Marilyn:

I’m impressed.  You clearly have chutzpah. You wrote a personal ad in the form of an article.  At least that’s how I read it.  And here’s my response.

I’m number 11. I believe I meet all of your criteria and as a bonus I live in your zip code.

I grew up in Seattle but left to attend Williams College.  After the Peace Corps, graduate school in NYC, and other journeys, I moved back here in 1975.  I’ve been divorced for ten years and I’m a fit 59- year-old.  I’ve had a number of relationships since the divorce. The pattern, generally, is that each seems to last longer than the previous one.  The last one lasted 2 years.  I’m headed in the right direction.  I don’t have to cross the street when I see one of them, which I think says something about my character. Two of them are Jewish.

So I’ve had several of those 10-day periods you mentioned.  I’m in one now.

My father was a reform rabbi.  However, the last several times I was in a temple was when my Buddhist meditation group met there.

I’m a planner/developer for the Seattle Housing Authority.  My passion is creating community, something I’m doing on a very large-scale right here in my back yard.  I love my work, most days.

One of my other passions is my sixteen-year-old son.  He’s with me four nights a week, and we’re very close.  He’s a remarkable kid who brings me endless pleasure.  Although, when we’re arguing it’s hard to remember the pleasure.  He’ll make a great lawyer but I’m hoping for something where there are fewer sharks.

Please call.  I’ve included my home number.   The envelope is from my consulting days, which I stopped doing three years ago.  I live a block from Green Lake in a house I’ve remodeled.  Let’s have coffee some time. We could always meet at Whole Foods, one of my indulgences.

I’ve even provided a photo with my son taken a few years ago in his hat days.

“He advised me to respond quickly,” Marilyn recalls. “Twelve months later, the relationship grows closer week by week. I think I’ve definitely found a very special someone I could happily live with for the next thirty years without ever running out subjects to talk about, of books to share, movies to watch together, restaurants to frequent, or funky places to travel to.

“What comes to mind,” she says, “is a pair of elegant wool slacks hanging at a small, fashionable consignment shop.  They’re my size, but definitely not a perfect fit –a little baggy in the rear, tight in the waist, a couple of inches too long.  But I love the cut, the subtle color, and that they have been locally made.  Over the past year, there have been a number of slight alterations, and occasionally I find myself not quite able to button them.  Sometimes I have to hold in my stomach, but fortunately, the fabric gives a little, and they fit again.  I can’t imagine my wardrobe without them.”

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Congratulations Marilyn and Tom, and thank you for sharing the way writing truly does make a difference!

And there’s more:  Marilyn’s essay has led to another writing assignment.  The Seattle Weekly sent her a book to review for this year’s Valentine Day’s issue: Dating After 50: Negotiating the Minefields of Midlife Romance by Sharon Romm.  And, of course, now that she’s dating Tom, she has some insightful things to say. Check it out at The Seattle Weekly.