Mayday: Tinder Love in the Golden Years

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Sometimes, all it takes is a hot meal—or a broken heater—to spark a long-lost flame! Marilyn I was looking for a handyman, not a “handsy” man. And don't think I was too old to know the difference. You wouldn't believe the things these eyes had seen. Thought I'd seen it all—until I joined Tinder. I was swiping men away like flies. To the left. To the left. Too grouchy. Too gassy. Not enough hair. Not enough teeth. I was elderly, not dead. The last person I’d expected to see was Clyde Jenkins. Now, here was a man who could handle his tools. Clyde I was looking for a home-cooked meal now and again … and maybe a respectable woman to warm my bed. After spending a little time on this online dating app, I wasn't sure there were many women my age still alive out there. Then, I stumbled across a photo that gave my pacemaker—and other parts—a tickle. Marilyn May … I knew she was a feisty lady and a dang good cook. She’d also happened to be my first sweetheart. So, I did what any self-respecting man in his post-prime would do. I swiped right, trimmed my nose hairs, and pulled out my church shirt. They don't call these the golden years for nothing!