Jeff Petersen
Jeff Petersen
Your balance sucks. You can’t remember why you went to the refrigerator. You’re getting shorter. You grunt rising from a chair. Your ears are hairy. Your knees snap, crackle and pop. Your toenails look like eagle claws.
Gas is over $5 a gallon. Rental prices are through the roof, making moving around the state or country a dicey proposition. You have a modest savings that couldn’t survive three years in a nursing home. You fear living under a bridge high on gas-reduction pills.
Age 69 may not be the perfect time to start dating.
But being a curious sort, you go online and look anyway. Not at younger women but people your age. Women who understand the aging process. Women who watched the 1969 moon landing on black and white TV. Women who appreciate audiocassette tapes and automatic can openers.
I live a modest life. Many women seeking friendship on dating sites do not. Sally wants to travel the world. Tamara loves to go to $500 concerts. Uma adores cruises and dining out at high-end restaurants. Veronica has a passion for attending Seahawks games and flying to posh resorts. All of them live 300 miles away.
Since I lost first wife Tina in September 2007 to diabetes and inner ear disease, the world has changed dramatically. Back then, the iPhone was still in diapers. The final book in the Harry Potter series was hot off the press. Facebook was just 3 years old and transforming from a college networking site to a global sensation.
Since I lost second wife Wonder in January 2026 to cancer, the world has again changed dramatically. A suspected arsonist burned down part of Spokane. President Donald Trump decided to break his no-new-wars promise. Former Senate speaker Mitch McConnell disappeared on health leave for months and then reappeared on death’s doorstep. Country singer and philanthropist Dolly Parton died, setting back U.S. literacy decades.
These are turbulent times.
Grief still trips me at times, but being a techno-scaredy cat, I thought I should dabble in online dating, to see if I could get started. I figured it might take me at least six months to get up to speed. I described who I was and what will work for me. I put up a few pictures, some of which look like Old Testament prophet Moses bringing back the Ten Commandments. Why not? Most women have 13 commandments.
It turns out online dating in 2026 is like going into a book superstore and being overwhelmed by choices, most of which are obviously too expensive.
I am a balsa airplane guy in an age of supersonic jets. I am a Burma Shave sign guy in an age where most people seem to prefer the flashing lights and noise of New York City’s Times Square. I am a cap gun guy in the age of drones and nuclear weapons.
Facing mortality, though, I carry on. A cousin reminded me that both my grandparents on my dad’s side lived to age 99, and even if I have a few bad habits — who doesn’t? — I might live even longer.
I’m not a salesman. If I was, my dating sales pitch might be when you’re my age — our age — a life sentence isn’t that long.
I’m not looking for a nurse with a purse. I just need to find someone who knows about dodgeball and drinking out of a hose and won’t get freaked out about toenails. I need someone familiar with fallout shelters and Flower Power who won’t be totally lost when I refer to “Gilligan’s Island” and “Hee Haw.”
I no longer “Dream of Jeannie.” I no longer fantasize about the Lennon Sisters, Bobby and Sissy.
I just want to find someone with the conversational skills of Mr. Ed, or hopefully way better, someone who understands fun with frugality, to ride out these turbulent times together. Is that too much to ask?
Reach Jeff Petersen at jeffp557@gmail.com.
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