An adult crush is such an elusive creature, like a snow leopard or a rare bird that you know exists but never see. I’m not talking about a celebrity or a musician crush, or in the case of my friend’s 24-year-old daughter, “I get crushes all the time, Shanti, on TikTok.”
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The pickleball floodgates opened fast and they opened wide – I found a community, a sense of purpose and belonging
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Never mind that I need an interpreter to understand 75% of what this communications director has been talking about since we started the interview.
I need an online dating intervention. Or a miracle.
It’s 2am and I’m wide awake – weary, wired and spun out.
I’ve been swiping for seven hours non-stop with nothing to show for it but an empty bottle of Pinot Grigio, a dull headache, massively dehydrated skin and most likely a trigger thumb. Thanks, Bumble.
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Illustration by Lori Lora / For the Times
She lures me to L.A. with the promise of a suitor — not just one but a multitude of hand-picked middle-aged, maybe divorced, probably Jewish and most certainly bitter bachelors. “Santa Monica is teeming with good men your age.” Really? I didn’t get that memo.
Her daily spiel is aggressive, peppered with enticing sound bites meant to convince me that migrating south is the key to finding love. “You’re almost 50. You’ll end up joining an ashram if you stay up there.”
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I was five months into my middle-aged gap year, hot-flashing my way around Europe with my surly sidekick, menopause. At 52, I’m taking the trip I never took in my 20s.
Read MoreIt’s 1986, and I’m a brooding teenager who’s already irritated with the world when she decapitates my plan to deflower my left ankle when I turn 18.
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