About two weeks ago friends of mine invited me to their home to meet a local political candidate running for office. It was a low key, event, with two dozen or so people of all ages. Before the candidate was to talk, our friend asked each of us present to introduce ourselves and tell a little about what we do. Well, you can imagine when it got to me, the list was pretty long concerning all the jobs I do for a living. Just as I was wrapping it up, a woman a bit older than me interjected that she loved my last Kvetch column. “Oh,” I said, “the one about senior sex.” Everyone laughed. People tend to do that when you throw the word sex out at an unsuspecting moment, laughing from either nervousness or just the randomness of it. And let’s face it those two words together, senior sex, well, that’s always quite an image.

 

First, let me just say, this was not a Jewish community party, so the fact that someone outside the community is reading the Jewish paper and following my column in itself was quite a little surprise at that moment.

 

What followed was actually pretty funny, because after I finished up, every person following me, young or old, made some kind of comment referring to senior sex. It’s quite the hot topic apparently and I suggest to any reader out there, at your next party, just randomly throw those two words out there and see what ensues. I guarantee based on my experience, it’s an ice-breaker and good for a laugh if nothing else.

 

Which somehow brings me to my love of words and my quest for love. Words in and of themselves are fascinating to me. Especially the words within words.

 

From the conception of this column and for the length of all mankind it seems, I told myself, and believed, I wanted a boyfriend. I do realize the title “boyfriend” sounds quite juvenile considering my age. However, what I realized I want, “What I really, really want,” to quote the Spice Girls, is a husband. Because, let’s face it, as far as words go, at least the word husband contains the word “us” pretty much smack in the middle of the word itself. And husband also contains and ends with the word “band”. And who doesn’t want to be in a band?! Husband is just a great relationship word!

 

The word partner works okay too, though for something not fully committed since it starts with the word “part”, but it also contains the word “art” in it and that lends itself to a more creative union, at least in my mind.

 

The word boyfriend is by far the worst of the three. Just take off the b and look at it. An OY-friend. Any sentence or word that starts with Oy is going to cancel out anything positive proceeding it. In this case…”friend.”

 

Having a supposed boyfriend, at this age at least, is truly like having an Oy-friend. Oy, his back hurts. Oy, he doesn’t want to talk about “it”. Oy, he’s tired. Oy, he hates to travel. Oy, this. Oy, that. What’s a woman to do?

 

I say, let’s take labels off relationships altogether, or go completely in the opposite direction as the younger generation has gone and create new words and or new pronouns to describe older single people dating and trying to define the relationship…for instance, He’s my “I-can’t-understand-why-his-adult-kids-won’t-talk-to-me-but-we-like-to-go-out-to-dinner-once-a-week-person” or he’s my “this-can-never-go-anywhere-but-we-like-to-walk-around-the-mall-together-person.” And if you really want to throw a firecracker into the conversation next time you are asked to define your over sixty relationship just casually say “He’s my senior sex person”. I dare you.