Truthfully. I gave up. I told myself I was too old. The combination of age, lack of socialization, and let's face it, even friends. I felt more alone than I had ever believed possible. The old guy staring back at me in the mirror didn't help. He had no suggestions to offer, no kind words of encouragement, not even a glimmer of hope. So, I gave up.
You heard all kinds of talk. You know what I meant? The evils of bullying folks that look or sound different. The body shaming debate. Everyone is beautiful! Everyone is unique! Everyone deserves to be loved and appreciated! Well, maybe so.
But when you get old. They don't even see you. That's where I was at.
That is until Becka.
I have retired. Work held no joy for me any longer. The government said I was old enough to receive full benefits. The first few weeks were great. I listened to music, read books, and did the projects I had been putting off for the last forty years. Got up in the morning, made coffee, looked at my list, gathered the necessary tools, and took care of business. When I was tired, I sat down. When I was sleepy, I took a nap. My time was my own.
Then the projects were finished. Winter sets in. There was nowhere to go. There was nothing to do. You should know. I have a significant other. As soon as I was done working, she was magically too sick or unable to work. Her time was now filled with watching rerun cops and lawyer shows, looking up shit on her phone, and asking what I was going to make for dinner.
We didn't used to be this way. But time, working too much and growing apart took a toll. I want you to know, I did try. Made many attempts to rekindle the relationship. Find what we once had. She wasn't interested. All the research in the world and study, led me to the conclusion that she wasn't going to be "in the mood" any longer. Now, I wasn't total shit. I worked taking care of the house, taking care of her. She was grateful, mind you. The physical part of our relationship was dead. It seemed that she didn't even like to be touched. Okay then, if that was what she wanted.
When the weather allowed, I spent a lot of time outside. Stupid stuff, like cleaning off the raised garden beds in January. Straightening and cleaning the shed in February. Then I began to make trips to the various retail outlets. I made grocery lists and went shopping. I went to the hardware store for "needed" items. Anything to get out of the house. She was fine with that. It meant she didn't have to dress, could wear her pajamas all day, and watch tv. She didn't even wear makeup anymore.
You know what I disliked the most? When she would read recipes aloud from her phone. Recipes that she would never make or have any intention of making. Many times, I just got up and left the room. So, I know what you are thinking. I had promised to love through the good and the bad. Yeah, I did that. But I was becoming resentful. I wasn't ready to sit and watch reruns for the next twenty years, or whatever time I had left. I had to find something.
I went to the Senior Citizens place. Hopefully to find some guys that were interested in making some music or something. I had played a lot of music earlier in my life. Career choices kind of took that away for the last decade.
I was greeted as I went through the door by a receptionist. She introduced herself as Becka Christman. I gave her my name and she pointed me towards a few guys that were shooting the breeze at a corner table.
Let me tell you about Becka. She was small. When she stood, she couldn't have been more than five foot tall. Her hair was dyed. She dressed nicely in a dress and heels, not too tall on the heels. Wire rim glasses on her face. Becka was on the thin side. I kind of had the idea she worked out maybe. I thought to myself. A nice lady, attractive.
I went over to introduce myself to the guys. We talked about music for quite a while. They wanted to know my background, what instruments I could play, and what genre of music I liked. We made a tentative date to meet at the center and jam some. Just to see how things worked out.
At first, it was just once a week. Then it became twice a week. Later, three or four times a week. Each time, Becka was there to greet me. She had a great smile, and I liked it when she smiled at me. Although, I knew she didn't have the slightest interest in me. Not the way I would have wanted.
The more often I stopped by the center, the more we visited. Then I would jam with the guys. It was convenient for each of us, and no one seemed to care. This went on for maybe eight months. We had a few gigs at the local nursing homes, the local hospital, and some evenings at the Senior Center. Lots of folks showed up, danced around and had fun. We had a purpose. I had a purpose.
Each visit to the center had me talking to Becka. We talked about our lives and how things were at home. We became comfortable with each other. I should have known better. One day, Becka asked me about my sex life. I thought that was a bit forward. She explained her husband wasn't interested any longer. I confessed to being in a similar situation. There was a long silence. I made an excuse and went home. Becka's conversation stayed with me as I sat at home.
A few days later, I went to the Senior Center. Becka was there, but none of the guys I had been playing with. Becka said they had called in for one reason or the other. Rather than going home, I stayed and spoke with Becka.
I noticed Becka smiled a lot. We sat next to one another in big comfy chairs. About the time she laid a hand on my arm, I knew something was up.
There followed a long silence.
Becka spoke.
"Joseph, I am attracted to you. You know I'm married, and I know you're married. But I wanted to say this to you."
Then she got up and went to her desk. I sat there, not knowing what to think.
After several awkward moments, I got up and went home. This was a new territory for me.
I sat at home that evening, pretending to watch the tv. My mind was on Becka and what she had said. The wife sat there. Glued to whatever gameshow that was on. We had discussions concerning our lack of intimacy. Yes, there were reasons she didn't. Mostly, it caused her great discomfort. I understood.
I couldn't help wondering what Becka expected or desired from her comment. But tomorrow, I will find out.
I got out of bed the next morning. Spent time with my double espressos, listening to the news and then NPR radio. My usual plan. I did a morning workout on the elliptical. Then I showered and dressed for the day. Nothing unusual, except for the thoughts in my mind about Becka. I was intrigued.
About midmorning I headed to the Center. My normal practice these days. The guys were there and waiting. The horns came out and we practiced and jammed in one of the back rooms of the Center. It was a fruitful rehearsal. But then, a few of them had to leave for other places. I sat there for a while in the quiet.
Becka came through the door and into the room. She was dressed today in a very nice-looking sweatsuit and tennis shoes. I guessed she had been walking. One of her modes of exercise.
Becka spoke.
"Where are the other guys?"
I responded.
"They had other appointments this morning. We cut things short."
Becka spoke.
"So why are you still here?"
I gave a bold answer and spoke.
"Becka, I was wondering what you meant by being attracted to me. What do I do with that?"
She stood there a moment before speaking.
"It means I find you physically attractive. As in having thoughts about us in bed."
Then she stood there with the slightest grin on her face.
I got up from my chair, left the room and went to the front door of the Center. There was a sign on the door. I set it to "Be back in an Hour." I returned to the backroom where Becka waited.
Her face was flushed, and she appeared nervous.
She stammered a little as she spoke.
"Joseph, I want you to know that I have never done anything like this before. Never been unfaithful to my husband. Never slept around."
I stood directly in front of her and answered.
"Nor have I. I've thought about it but never acted on it."
An awkward silence. Then I took her by the hand and led her to a chair. I sat and pulled her into my lap. She quivered a little.
I spoke.
"If you don't want this. Say so."
Becka took her glasses off and placed them on a side table. She looked me in the eyes and spoke.
"I want to know."
